A Fate Worse Than Death

Years ago, I was a staunch proponent of the death penalty. I believed in swift and final justice, believing it was the most appropriate way to render a debt to society that could never be paid back. However, as life often does, through a combination of experience, observation, and knowledge, my perspective began to shift.

That shift came about in an unexpected way—through my own struggle with pain chronic. I remember my first appointment with my current pain management doctor. She asked me to rate my pain level. (Anyone who suffers from chronic pain knows that our scale is not like everyone else’s.) I shrugged and said, “It’s probably about a seven today—pretty normal.” She paused, put down her pen, and looked at me. “Pain isn’t normal,” she said.

That moment stayed with me. It struck me again when Prince, an iconic musical savant, died of a drug overdose. Of course, it was tragic, but his story didn’t truly resonate with me until I read about his chronic pain and the hip replacement he never got. What stood out most was the closing line of the article: “Prince didn’t die of an overdose. He died of chronic pain.”

This realization deepened when a friend described her 94-year-old mother’s slow, agonizing death. Her mother welcomed death—begged for it—as a release from unbearable suffering. And yet, death made her wait, lingering for over a week before finally granting relief.

These moments led me to a hard truth: The death penalty was never really about punishing the criminal. It was about giving society a sense of vindication. As a philosophical retributivist, I have always been a proponent of a punishment that harbors the most uncomfortable reality possible. I used to believe that was death.  I presumed inmates would fear death, find ways to avert their fate, but the opposite is true.  Many welcome the carrying out of their sentence because it ends their suffering. If you believe there is no fate worse than death, you have likely lived a comfortable life. The reality is that suffering is an inescapable part of existence. And death? Death can be merciful—a welcomed moment of finality when pain ends.

I don’t want that mercy granted prematurely for violent, psychopathic criminals. I want them to live long, miserable lives. I want their suffering to stretch endlessly, just as their victims’ families must endure a lifetime of grief, trauma, and loss.  Those survivors don’t get a reprieve. The victims of violent criminals awaken each day with the lingering effects of the victimhood. They inhale a sentence they never deserved and exhale a hope for justice they will never fully receive.

I no longer support the death penalty for America’s worst offenders. Death is the easy way out. The harshest punishment is making them live, the days ticking by one by one as they become not only prisoners of steel bars, but captives of their own minds—trapped in their own suffering, waiting for death that refuses to come.

-Ann Tepoorten