October 10, 2025, is the 23rd World Day Against the Death Penalty.
It is also the date that the State of Indiana intends to execute Roy Lee Ward.
This is why I feel compelled to publicly share why I support life without parole as opposed to the death penalty. There are many convincing arguments against the death penalty that have led to its abolition in 23 states and 143 countries, but I can speak best from my own experience. Perhaps the least obvious reason why the death penalty should be abolished is its prolonged traumatic impact on both the families of the victim and the families of the murderer.
My 26-year-old daughter and her roommate were brutally murdered 21 years ago in the home they shared. The next 11 months were an unspeakable nightmare as the police investigation following false assumptions that my daughter was the murderer’s target failed to find the killer. I fumbled through each day in a brokenhearted daze, confused and unconvinced that anyone would want to hurt Leslie. When the murderer finally turned himself in after a year-long investigation, we were stunned; he had never even met her. I realized that I had been holding my breath and every cell in my body had been bracing for that long-awaited call I received in the middle of the night.
The many months that followed were filled with speculation about whether the prosecution would seek the death penalty. The District Attorney assured us that ultimately it would be his decision, and we were told to be patient, to wait. We obeyed, but we were held in limbo for several more months as our lives became a desperate and painful purgatory. Meanwhile, the media rushed in to exploit and sensationalize our tragedy. After two years, we were completely exhausted. Even my sons, who had wanted the death penalty for their sister’s murderer, were ready for an alternative path; one that would end the cycle of violence that had hijacked our lives and prevented us from tending to our grief. We had been held in trauma space for over two years, and it had become unbearable.
I had sought counsel with anyone who might help me preserve my daughter’s dignity and save us from the further pain and suffering of a lengthy public trial. Sister Helen Prejean generously offered to speak with me, and her words of wisdom gave me a glimmer of hope. Sister Helen told me heart-wrenching stories about the mothers of murderers that opened my mind and my heart to compassion. She pierced the darkness of my pain when she said, “Jesus asks us to stretch, Cathy. There are two arms to the cross; one side is for the victims and their loved ones, and the other side of the cross holds the murderer and his family in that same light of love and mercy.” I knew what I had to do.
Thank goodness, the DA listened to our plea to stop preparing for a trial. He helped us negotiate a plea agreement for a life sentence without parole. I will never forget the relief we felt after that sentencing hearing; we could breathe again. It was over. We were no longer shackled to the murderer and the endless judicial process. We could begin our journey toward healing and honoring Leslie’s legacy. We could finally focus on what really mattered.
After using my voice to protest the death penalty, I decided to go back to school to seek solutions to the epidemic of violence in our country. I became a victim outreach specialist to help families navigate the nightmare of losing a loved one to murder. I studied restorative justice, psychology, mental illness, and social work. I learned about generational trauma and the hidden victims of homicide, the victims on both sides, the victim’s family and the murderer’s family. Instead of giving “closure” to the victim’s family, the death penalty compounds the violence and pain for everyone involved. “Jesus asks us to stretch.”
The wisdom of restorative justice says we cannot make the world safer by choosing revenge; by fighting violence with violence. This simply perpetuates and escalates the cycles of violence. What if we choose a restorative approach, a compassionate response instead of a violent solution?
What if we can make our world safer by ensuring everyone’s basic human needs (including healthcare) are met? A warm and loving home should be a promise for every child, every family. Maybe preventing violence begins with ending injustice and the cruelty of inequality to ensure that every child can grow into a whole and healthy adult. Maybe we can change the world one child at a time, and then we can dare to dream that one day no mother’s child will grow up to be a murderer.
We sing a comforting African American spiritual often these days at our church. It originates from the Gullah tradition of the Georgia sea islands:
There is more love (hope; peace; joy;) somewhere
I’m gonna keep on ‘til I find it.
There is more love somewhere.
May we individually and collectively “keep on ‘til we find it”. May it be so. Amen.
Rev. Cathy Harrington is a parish minister and is currently serving First Unitarian Church of Hobart. Her essay, “A Mother’s Story,” was published in artist Robert Priseman’s 2009 book, “No Human Way to Kill.”
