January 12, 2003

BY ABDON M. PALLASCH, ANNIE SWEENEY AND CARLOS SADOVI STAFF REPORTERS

Gov. Ryan ignited national and even international debate Saturday by taking all 167 prisoners off Illinois' Death Row, blowing away the modern record of eight commutations set by former Ohio Gov. Richard Celeste.

Ryan gave 160 men and four women life sentences without the possibility of parole. Three men received reduced sentences that could allow them to be released shortly.

A day earlier, Ryan gave outright pardons to four other men on Death Row, bringing to 171 the total spared potential lethal injections.

In Ryan's words ''The legislature couldn't reform it. Lawmakers won't repeal it. But I will not stand for it.'' ''As I prepare to leave office, I had to ask myself whether I could really live with the prospect of knowing that I had the opportunity to act, but that I had failed to do so because I might be criticized.'' ''Because our three-year study has found only more questions about the fairness of the sentencing; because of the spectacular failure to reform the system; because we have seen justice delayed for countless Death Row inmates with potentially meritorious claims; because the Illinois death penalty system is arbitrary and capricious--and therefore immoral--I no longer shall tinker with the machinery of death.'' ''This is a blanket commutation. I realize it will draw ridicule, scorn and anger from many who oppose this decision.'' ''There have been many nights where my staff and I have been deprived of sleep in order to conduct our exhaustive review of the system. But I can tell you this: I will sleep well knowing I made the right decision.'' ''Seventeen exonerated Death Row inmates is nothing short of catastrophic failure.'' ''I have had to consider not only the horrible nature of the crimes that put men on Death Row in the first place, the terrible suffering of the surviving family members of the victims, the despair of the family members of the inmates, but I have also had to watch in frustration as members of the Illinois General Assembly failed to pass even one substantive death penalty reform. Not one. They couldn't even agree on one.'' "Some inmates on Death Row don't want a sentence of life without parole. ... It is a stark and dreary existence. They can think about their crimes. Life without parole has even, at times, been described by prosecutors as a fate worse than death." "President Lincoln often talked of binding up wounds as he sought to preserve the Union. 'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.'" ''Our own study showed that juries were more likely to sentence to death if the victim were white than if the victim were black--3-1/2 times more likely, to be exact.'' ''I started with this issue concerned about innocence. But once I studied, once I pondered what has become of our justice system, I came to care above all about fairness.'' ''I never intended to be an activist on this issue.'' "The Most Reverend Desmond Tutu wrote to me this week stating that 'to take a life when a life has been lost is revenge, it is not justice.' He says justice allows for mercy, clemency and compassion. These virtues are not weakness." '''In fact the most glaring weakness is that no matter how efficient and fair the death penalty may seem in theory, in actual practice it is primarily inflicted upon the weak, the poor, the ignorant and against racial minorities.' That was a quote from former California Governor Pat Brown. He wrote that in his book--Public Justice, Private Mercy. He wrote that nearly 50 years ago--nothing has changed in nearly 50 years." "Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart has said that the imposition of the death penalty on defendants in this country is as freakish and arbitrary as who gets hit by a bolt of lightning."

"What happened today is absolutely monumental," said Nancy Bothne, Midwest regional director for Amnesty International. "It is significant for every political leader in every one of those 38 states that still has the death penalty. This will be a defining moment in the abolition of the death penalty in the United States."

Ryan, a Republican, supported the death penalty until the number of innocent men freed from Death Row convinced him the system was broken. Because state legislators refused to pass even one reform to the system, he had no choice but the radical surgery he performed Saturday, he said.

"Like it or not, the decision I make about our criminal justice system is felt not only here, but the world over," Ryan told 500 cheering law students, anti-death penalty activists and men freed from Death Row at Northwestern University's Law School.

Ryan leaves office Monday.

"I thought, I could not leave without getting something done," he said.

Ryan said his decision would outrage many people, including his wife, because one of the men whose sentence he commuted killed a neighbor of the Ryans.

"My wife is even angry and disappointed with me, just like many of the victims will be," Ryan said. "They have a right, I would guess, to feel betrayed."

That's because Ryan told them he would not grant a "blanket commutation," then changed his mind.

"My obligations are far broader than their desires or their wishes," Ryan said.

Ryan's successor, Gov.-elect Rod Blagojevich, did not like the going-away present.

"A blanket clemency in my view is a big mistake," Blagojevich said. "There is no one-size-fits-all approach to those cases. We're talking about murderers on Death Row, and I just think this decision to do blanket clemency is wrong."

Ryan posed for pictures Saturday with former "MASH" television show actor Mike Farrell--just one of many celebrities around the world who have lobbied Ryan to commute the death sentences. Calls and letters have come in from South African leaders Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu; from the Vatican, the European Union and the governments of Poland and Mexico.

"For a guy like me to get a call from Nelson Mandela, that's pretty impressive," Ryan said.

Famed DNA lawyer Barry Scheck, who defended O.J. Simpson, was on hand at Northwestern on Saturday, also predicting national repercussions.

Ryan said he looked at every case and tried to separate the guilty from the innocent; the cases in which the system worked properly from those in which the system did not.

He couldn't do it.

"Hell, I know some of those people are guilty," Ryan said. "But you can't pick and choose. That's what drove us to mass commutations. How many more cases of wrongful convictions have to occur before we can all agree that this system in Illinois is broken?"

Prosecutors around the state slammed Ryan on Saturday, saying he should let the courts handle the cases. Some Ryan critics say the federal probe of corruption in Ryan's offices motivated him to stage this weekend's attention-grabbing events.

"That had nothing to do with this at all," said Ryan, who has not been charged with any crimes.

Responding to Cook County State's Attorney Dick Devine's blasting of Ryan's actions as "outrageous and unconscionable," Ryan said, "If you really want to know what's outrageous and unconscionable . . . it's 17 exonerated Death Row inmates. It is nothing short of catastrophic failure."

Lawyers for the prisoners poured out of the rally at Northwestern, lighting up their cell phones to tell their clients the news. While all but three will get life in prison, Ryan noted some think that is "a fate worse than death."

Three of the four men Ryan pardoned Friday got a hero's welcome Saturday.

"I think he saved a whole lot of people today," said Madison Hobley, pardoned of setting a fire that killed seven people. Hobley was one of those who said former Chicago police Lt. Jon Burge tortured him to extract a false confession. "I just really saw justice yesterday after 16 years on the system."

Also there Saturday was Gary Gauger, whose conviction for killing his parents was overturned and whom Ryan pardoned earlier.

"This is not a time for celebration," Gauger said. "This is a time for people to start looking at all the other cases in prison. Ten years ago, Jon Burge was fired for torture. But they haven't done anything yet. The courts are not handling it."

Ryan agreed. The death penalty as administered in Illinois is uneven, with the same crimes getting years in prison in one county and the death penalty in another. African Americans are sentenced to death more often, Ryan said.

Plenty of retired politicians attended Ryan's event, but no current officeholders other than Ryan.

"It is easier and more comfortable for politicians to be tough on crime and support the death penalty," Ryan said. "It wins votes. But when it comes to admitting we have a problem, most run for cover. Prosecutors across the state continue to deny that our death penalty system is broken. . . . Will we actually have to execute an innocent person before the tragedy that is our capitol punishment system in Illinois is really understood?"

Contributing: Becky Beaupre, Scott Fornek

Notorious killers get huge break

When Gov. Ryan issued a blanket commutation to every man and woman on Death Row in Illinois, he knowingly spared the lives of some of the most vicious killers in the state's 185-year history.

The governor acknowledged as much Saturday but said that fundamental flaws in the system necessitated his actions.

Here are some of the most infamous killers saved by Ryan:

Danny Edwards

To make the point that he has been personally touched by the horror of murder, Ryan on Saturday described the murder of an old family friend, Kankakee businessman Stephen B. Small, in 1987, in a kidnapping plot.

Danny Edwards, who at the time was a small-time drug dealer and electrician in Kankakee, was found guilty of burying Small alive in a wooden box.

Edwards made an air hole in the box and apparently thought Small could survive for some time while he--Edwards--attempted to extort a $1 million ransom from Small's wealthy family. But Small died within four hours of being buried.

While conceding that the evidence against his client was "overwhelming"--Edwards was seen building the box, and his fingerprints were found inside--defense attorney Thomas Allen expressed surprise at the quick guilty verdict, calling the jury "the coldest I've ever seen."

Henry Brisbon

Brisbon and three other men decided to rob somebody. When they couldn't find the right pedestrian to rob in Kankakee, they drove toward Chicago on Interstate 57. While riding along, they came up with the idea of robbing motorists by staging phony accidents.

One of the killers tricked motorists out of their cars by asking them to inspect minor collision damage, then led them to Brisbon, who brandished the shotgun and robbed and shot them.

Betty Lou Harmon, 29, of suburban Darien, was forced to undress at gunpoint. She ran away, but was caught by Sanders, who led her to Brisbon, who fatally shot her in a field.

An engaged North Side couple, Dorothy Cerny and James Schmidt, both 25, who were returning from a family gathering in Matteson, also were shot to death by Brisbon after being stripped of their valuables.

Brisbon told the couple to "kiss your last kiss" before firing shotgun blasts into their backs as they lay on the side of the highway.

But Brisbon was not on Death Row for the I-57 murders. He was put there because he used a sharpened spoon to kill another inmate while in prison.

Fedell Caffey & Jacqueline Williams

Caffey and Williams decided they wanted a baby. So they stabbed to death a pregnant woman, Debra Evans, in her Addison apartment and cut her nearly full-term fetus from her body, according to prosecutors.

To eliminate witnesses, they also murdered Evans' 10-year-old daughter, Samantha, and 8-year-old son, Joshua.

Another child, Jordan, was spared in the 1995 murder--children under the age of 2 aren't likely to be good witnesses. And the newborn boy also survived.

Fortunately, Jordan's grandfather, Sam Evans, says Jordan has no recollection today of the horrors he witnessed.

Gabriel Solache

In an eerily similar case, little 2-month-old Guadalupe Soto and her toddler brother Santiago had both parents ripped away by vicious killers who wanted to steal a baby in 1998.

One of them was Solache, who agreed to help kill Jacinta and Mariano Soto and snatch the baby so Adriana Mejia could pretend it was hers. Mejia targeted the Bucktown family after seeing Jacinta with the children at a local health clinic. She followed them home on a bus to see where they lived.

Early the next morning, Solache, Mejia and Arturo DeLeon-Reyes surprised the family, stabbing the parents more than 60 times as the sleepy toddler looked on. Mejia and DeLeon-Reyes got life in prison.

Luther Casteel

At JB's Pub in Elgin in 2001, Casteel was booted out for harassing female customers and employees. Roaring drunk and enraged, he shot straight home, shaved his hair into a mohawk and changed into military fatigues, armed himself with several guns and returned to the bar.

Screaming, "I am a natural born killer," he shot bartender Jeffrey Weides and customer Richard Bartlett to death and wounded 16 others before being wrestled to the ground by bar patrons and employees.

At his trial, Casteel almost dared a Kane County jury to impose the death penalty.

"I'm not someone who asks for mercy or pity for my actions," he said during a stunning half hour of testimony. "I have absolutely no fear of anything anyone can put upon me."

Latasha Pulliam

In 1991, 6-year-old Shenosha Richard was playing in her South Side Chicago neighborhood when she was approached by Pulliam and Pulliam's boyfriend, Dwight Jordan. She went with them after they purchased her a bag of chips and promised to take her to a movie.

At Pulliam's apartment, over several hours, Pulliam and Jordan sexually assaulted the girl with a shoe polish applicator and a hammer, and then used the hammer to pulverize her skull, according to prosecutors. Pulliam also beat and strangled the girl.

Attorneys for Pulliam said she was drug-crazed at the time, but a court psychologist described her as "a female John Gacy" who got sexual satisfaction from hurting someone weaker than she.

Sentences of 3 cut to 40 years

BY ANNIE SWEENEY STAFF REPORTER

Eighteen years ago, Ana Flores got a terrible shock during her brother's murder trial.

Told the case easily would be won by the defense, the family agreed to an expedited trial for Mario Flores, then 19.

"To our surprise, someone who was going to come home got a death sentence,'' Ana Flores said.

The Flores family got another jolt Saturday when Gov. Ryan announced that Mario Flores' sentence to die had been commuted to 40 years.

"I'm numb,'' Ana Flores, 32, said after Ryan's announcement.

Mario Flores, convicted in 1985 of killing a gang member in Chicago, was among three Illinois prisoners whose sentences were changed from death to 40 years. The same happened to Montell Johnson and William Franklin.

Johnson, who turned 37 Saturday, was convicted of murder and has been on Death Row two years. Franklin, 67, was convicted of murder and burglary and has been on Death Row 15 years.

These men were singled out because in each case there was a co-defendant who was not sentenced to die, but rather was given a lighter sentence. Ryan said he wanted to bring their sentences into line with those of their co-defendants.

In announcing the three commutations, Ryan quoted Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, who said the imposition of the death penalty is "as freakish and arbitrary as who gets hit by a bolt of lightning.''

After Ryan's announcement Saturday, Ana Flores and her family consulted with attorneys and investigators who had good news--her brother might be home as early as next year because of time he already has served. He has spent 16 years on Death Row.

Still, Ana Flores was cautious.

"It's really good news,'' she said. "I just hope they don't take it away.''

For victims' families, more grief

BY CARLOS SADOVI STAFF REPORTER

When Thomas Ramos Jr. received the special-delivery letter at his home Saturday morning, he felt the same anger and disbelief as other families who opened similar red-white-and-blue envelopes.

By the time those letters arrived, relatives had read newspapers and heard television and radio reports all morning. They knew that Gov. Ryan was sparing the lives of 167 condemned murderers, letting all but three serve life in prison.

Ramos had braced for the worst, but hoped Ryan wouldn't commute the death sentence of Death Row inmate Ronald Kitchen, who killed two women, including Ramos' sister, Deborah Sepulveda, 26, and her two young children in 1988.

"When that letter comes, it hits you in the spine," said Ramos, who fought back tears in front of a picture of his sister and her children and the three candles he lights in their memory. "This was one of those where you don't want to open it, but you have to. This man [Ryan] is stepping on the graves of my sister and her children.''

Even before Ryan's speech Saturday afternoon at Northwestern University School of Law, where he announced he would eliminate the death sentences, Lorraine Pedro had experienced one of the worst days of her life.

On Friday, Ryan pardoned Death Row inmate Leroy Orange, who along with his half-brother Leonard Kidd was convicted of killing Pedro's son Riccardo, 24, and three others 19 years ago today. Even though Orange walked out of jail Friday and Kidd's sentence was commuted to life in prison on Saturday, she was never notified by Ryan.

"I think he made jackasses out of us,'' said Pedro, who along with other victims pleaded with Ryan at clemency hearings in October and at a private meeting with the governor not to give a blanket clemency. "What kind of message is he sending. ... I'm thinking that the thugs running around now feel that they can go out and do anything.''

In a two-page letter to most of the victim's families, Ryan said he had grappled with whether to issue a blanket commutation and admitted that he was contradicting himself when he previously had said that he had ruled it out.

"I had to reflect on the number of times our system has failed to convict the right person,'' Ryan wrote. "While many of you will not be pleased with the decision that I have made, I have come to peace within myself that I have made the right decision.''

But Crystal Fitch, whose sister Felicia Lewis, 21, and her boyfriend, Reginald Wilson, 23, were killed in 1994 by Anthony Brown, said there was no doubt that Brown was her sister's killer. DNA evidence came back last year that linked blood found on Brown's underwear to Lewis.

She said she believes that Ryan never intended to keep any of the men on Death Row and must now try to explain it to Lewis' son Brandon, who was born two months before his mother was killed.

"[Brandon's] questioning what's going on, 'Is he going to get out?' '' Fitch said. "Ryan lied, he's a liar and a coward. Now Anthony Brown is going to live off of my tax money.''

Many others felt resigned to the fact that they could do nothing about Ryan's decision.

Ruben Lopez, who at age 6 saw John Childress stab to death his mother, Sara Cardona, in their North Side home in 1989, said what Ryan had done was wrong, but he felt powerless. Childress also had been convicted of killing another man in 1977.

"I don't think it's right, but I can't do anything about it,'' Lopez said Saturday morning. "He doesn't care what I think. I can't win.''

'This man [Ryan] is stepping on the graves of my sister and her children.' --Thomas Ramos Jr.

For inmates, a second chance

BY ANNIE SWEENEY STAFF REPORTER

Gricelda Ceja and her family have every intention of proving that her 25-year-old son did not commit the double murder he was charged with nearly five years ago.

On Saturday, Gov. Ryan gave them all the time in the world to do that.

Raul Ceja's sentence to die for the gang-related murders of two men in DuPage County in 1998 was commuted to life on Saturday--along with more than 160 other inmates on Death Row--after Gov. Ryan said he could not morally support a system that he found to be unfair, racially biased and arbitrary.

"It's hard enough to work against the system, but when you feel like time could run out,'' Gricelda Ceja said, her voice trailing off after Ryan's announcement at Northwestern University's law school.

"We don't have that death sentence hanging over our heads. You're working against a ticking clock,'' she said.

The reaction from Ceja and other families of Death Row inmates during and after Ryan's speech ranged from applause to tears of joy.

They heralded Ryan as hero with courage unlike most.

"Very few men would have done that,'' Ceja said.

Ryan commuted 167 sentences on Saturday. Of that, three sentences were commuted to 40 years; the rest were commuted to life in prison.

Ana Flores, 32, whose brother, Mario Flores, has been imprisoned for 18 years and had his sentence commuted to 40 years, doesn't think pursuing justice through the court system would have worked.

"Oh no, no way,'' she said. "No way whatsoever. This comes from a greater power. Today, [Ryan] showed the human side of him and the Christian side.''

Over the past two days, during which Ryan gave two speeches regarding the death penalty, the highlight has been his pardoning of four men--Madison Hobley, Aaron Patterson, Stanley Howard and Leroy Orange.

Even more dramatic was the immediate release of Hobley, Patterson and Orange after Ryan's announcement Friday.

The three attended Saturday's speech, where they were warmly welcomed with hugs, standing ovations and whoops.

Still, for some family members of those whose remain in prison, the weekend brought mixed emotions.

"I'm sad and I'm happy,'' said Kinda Jackson, whose cousin Derrick King was on Death Row for 25 years. "I had hopes of him getting out and being free.''

King is among a group of inmates known as the "Death Row 10'' who have all recanted their confessions, claiming they were tortured by former Chicago police Lt. Jon Burge.

Mobley, Patterson, Howard and Orange also are among the ten.

Still, Jackson and others said Ryan's actions meant a lot to her and all the families.

"Today, it brought a lot of hope,'' Jackson said. "Hope that he'll be free.''

At least one of the pardoned inmates said he would work on behalf of those he left behind, including King.

"There's still a few more death row inmates that are innocent,'' said Patterson, who promised those who remain in prison that he would lobby public officials on their behalf.

"Whatever you want me to do, I'm going to do it. I'm going to make a beeline to that governor," Patterson said. "I don't care who's in the way.''

'Today, [Ryan] showed the human side of him and the Christian side.' --Ana Flores

Ryan draws applause, jeers

BY CATHLEEN FALSANI RELIGION REPORTER

While listening to Gov. Ryan's announcement Saturday that he had commuted the sentences of almost all Illinois Death Row prisoners to life without parole, the Rev. Demetri Kantzavelos, chancellor of the Greek Orthodox Diocese of Chicago, turned to his Bible.

The Book of Isaiah. Chapter 61.

"He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, to release the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

"With this step we are now on a threshold of a new moral awakening in this state, and I am interested to see where it goes," said Kantzavelos, an outspoken opponent of the death penalty who spiritually counseled Andrew Kokoraleis, the last man executed in Illinois. He was put to death on March 17,1999.

"It's bittersweet," Kantzavelos said. "I wish that announcement came 3-1/2 years ago."

Other religious leaders gave Ryan's move mixed reviews.

Paul Rutgers, a Presbyterian minister who serves as the executive director of the Council of Religious Leaders of Metropolitan Chicago, called the commutations "a reasonable and just step."

The Council is made up of bishops and other heads of most large religious groups in the Chicago area, including Roman Catholic Cardinal Francis George.

"Without attempting to take sides as far as the governor himself is concerned, I believe that the religious leadership around the council table has been consistently in support of the suspension of the death penalty and, under those circumstances, of commutations," Rutgers said. "The near unanimous feeling is that . . . the reinstitution of the death penalty is intolerable."

The Catholic Conference of Illinois issued a statement saying, "The granting of clemency by Gov. Ryan is consistent with Catholic principles in opposition to the death penalty.

"The death of the murderer cannot bring back the one who has been killed, nor does revenge help to heal the hole in the heart of the grieving loved one.

"We pray that Gov. Ryan's granting of clemency will lead to healing."

George Brooks, a Roman Catholic deacon and member of the Illinois Coalition Against the Death Penalty, said the clemencies were a good step.

"I'm glad people on Death Row are not going to be executed, but . . . as the governor pointed out, there are still innocent people in jail," Brooks said.

"The Catholic Church has been pushing for reform of the justice system. Without these reforms being passed, we still are going to be convicting innocent people and sentencing them to incredible terms.

"This is not one where one celebrates a victory or a win."

Kareem Irfan, chairman of the Council of Islamic Organizations of Greater Chicago, the largest Muslim organization in the area, said Muslims would likely have theological problems with the blanket commutations.

"Islam places a high emphasis on true justice, and also on the sanctity of life, as well as the rights of the victims and their families," Irfan explained.

"In the case of murder, the Quran prescribes a punishment of death. But at the same time, it gives the ultimate right to the victims' families to decide.

"In view of that, my concern is with a blanket clemency. . . . It definitely would have been best to review each case individually," Irfan said. But, he added, "I definitely applaud the sentiment behind the governor's decision, that is, to correct the injustice that may have been done."

Rabbi Ira Youdovin, executive director of the Chicago Board of Rabbis, said he had "grave doubts whether a governor should have done this in his next to last day in office, especially when the governor-elect has declared his intention to continue a moratorium.

"On the other hand--as it appears that the flaws in the criminal justice system when it comes to capital punishment aren't going to be corrected any time soon--it could mean that an innocent human being could be spared."

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Ryan's views shift: from 'the system worked' to 'manifest wrongs'

BY DAVE MCKINNEY SUN-TIMES SPRINGFIELD BUREAU

SPRINGFIELD--When George Ryan ran for governor, he made his support of the death penalty known, but it almost was an asterisk in his campaign. He didn't imagine in his administration's earliest days the issue would frame his governorship.

But it has. And as Ryan's term ends, what is unclear is whether he will be most remembered for the corruption scandal that ruined his political fortunes and crippled the Republican Party or for his 180-degree shift on the death penalty.

Ryan was a member of the Illinois House when he cast his vote in the late 1970s to reimpose the death penalty. Through much of his first year in office, with nine Death Row inmates already freed by the state's courts, he seemed to hold firm to that ideal.

He resisted calls to impose a moratorium on executions. When former Death Row inmate Anthony Porter was exonerated in early 1999, ex-Ryan spokesman Dave Urbanek said Porter's freedom was proof "the system worked."

Recalling those early days of his administration, Ryan said Friday, "The death penalty was nowhere on the radar screen. I had no intention of grappling with such a difficult topic.''

The first public sign of Ryan's second thoughts on the death penalty came in March 1999 when he struggled to authorize serial killer Andrew Kokoraleis' date with the executioner. He agonized over the subject, first thinking about staying the execution briefly, then settling on a laboriously worded explanation permitting the death sentence to be carried out.

"I must admit that it is very difficult to hold in your hands the life of any person, even a person who, in the eyes of the many, has acted so horrendously as to have forfeited all right to any consideration of mercy," Ryan said at the time.

Critics saw Ryan's evolving position on the death penalty as a ready-made diversion from his deepening legal and political problems.

"The governor campaigned in favor of the death penalty. He was the last governor to execute a person in Illinois. Apparently, he didn't have any philosophical or religious problems with that, and he did that a week or so after Anthony Porter was let free," said John Gorman, a spokesman for Cook County State's Attorney Dick Devine, who has opposed a blanket commutation. "One questions whence came this great metamorphosis."

The skepticism mounted in late January 2000, when Ryan decided to impose a moratorium on executions. His announcement came on the heels of the federal indictment of Dean Bauer, his former inspector general in the secretary of state's office, for covering up politically embarrassing investigations.

"I don't think anything else influenced this, other than his own understanding of what was at stake," said Jane Bohman, executive director of the Illinois Coalition Against the Death Penalty. "Picking the death penalty as a diversionary tactic isn't like giving out candy on street corner to make yourself popular. I really think that he just was confronted by the fact he's the last person to sign off.''

In March of 2000, Ryan appointed a blue-ribbon panel to study how Illinois' death penalty system could be improved. The group recommended reforms, but the General Assembly failed to adopt the plan.

The first signal that Ryan might act independently of the Legislature and undo the death sentences of everyone on Death Row came last March during an appearance before a death penalty conference in Oregon. In the fall, he suggested an all-or-nothing approach on commutation, then backed away from a blanket order. Now, he has granted commutations to all prisoners on Illinois' Death Row--the last curve on his long drive to correct the "manifest wrongs'' he believes exist in the state's capital punishment system.

"Four years ago,'' Ryan said Friday at DePaul, "I never would have guessed the road would lead me here.''

Pardons 'unconscionable'

BY FRANK MAIN CRIME REPORTER

Former prosecutor Jeff Warnick could not believe it when Gov. Ryan told the world Friday that Madison Hobley helped catch a neighbor's baby and save its life after he escaped from a burning apartment building in 1987.

Hobley--one of the four Death Row inmates the governor pardoned--was convicted of setting the fire, killing his wife, son and five others at 1121-23 E. 82nd St.

Warnick said he is still convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hobley was guilty, based on the physical evidence from the fire.

"You want to commute his sentence, governor? Fine. But don't say he was innocent," said Warnick, an arson expert who investigated the blaze while he was in the Cook County state's attorney's office.

Cook County State's Attorney Dick Devine and three prosecutors who worked on the four cases appeared disgusted with Ryan's decision Friday night, saying he usurped the judicial process and was simply wrong on the issues of the cases.

"Our outgoing governor took an outrageous and unconscionable step in pardoning four convicted murderers,'' Devine said. "The system is broken, and the governor started to break it today. Every expectation we have is he will continue that process tomorrow. This is something he can walk away from, but the rest of us will be left behind to try and put it back together."

Hobley claims that police tortured a confession from him. Defense attorneys have pointed to a gas can they contend was planted to link him to the crime.

But Warnick called the gas can a red herring. He said investigators determined the fire was ignited with gasoline in a stairwell leading up to Hobley's third-floor apartment door. A pool of gasoline was discovered at the threshold of his apartment door that would have required Hobley to walk through the fire. But he was unscathed. "I know fires, and there is no physical way for him to escape that apartment with fire outside the door," he said.

Weeks before the fatal blaze, Warnick said, Hobley's wife was staying with a friend because Hobley was abusive to her. The roommate called police to report Hobley was making threats. An officer listened on the phone as Hobley spoke to the roommate.

"He threatened to burn out the roommate unless he could speak to Anita," Warnick said.

Peter Troy, a prosecutor in the Cook County state's attorney's office, is equally upset that Ryan let Aaron Patterson go free. Patterson was convicted in the April 1986 murders of Vincent and Rafaela Sanchez. He used a paper clip to etch his innocence into a metal bench in an interrogation room, defense attorneys said. The etching said he signed a false statement. But Troy said Patterson never signed his confession, throwing the allegations of torture into doubt. Troy said he interviewed Patterson and saw no signs of physical abuse. He allowed Patterson to call his grandmother and a lawyer--and Patterson never complained he was tortured, Troy said.

"To this day, I believe he murdered the Sanchezes," Troy said

Devine, who expects Ryan to offer blanket commutations Saturday, said he thought Ryan acted without care for families of the victims, and he said the governor's clemency powers and his actions will be reviewed.

When he was the Cook County state's attorney, Mayor Daley oversaw many of the prosecutions in which prisoners accused police of torturing false confessions out of them. His press office didn't return phone calls Friday.

Contributing: Annie Sweeney and Abdon Pallasch

He's savoring hearty helping of freedom

BY DON BABWIN

DWIGHT, Ill.--Thirty minutes after he walked out of prison and left Illinois' Death Row behind him, Aaron Patterson sat down in a truck stop diner and contemplated his first meal as a free man since 1986.

''I ain't had a steak in 17 years,'' he said Friday night as he looked over the menu at the Harvest Table, adding, ''with some greasy fries.''

Gov. Ryan pardoned Patterson, Madison Hobley, Stanley Howard and Leroy Orange on Friday, saying Chicago police tortured the men into confessing to murders they had not committed. Each of them was on Death Row for at least 12 years.

Hours after they were pardoned, Patterson and Hobley were released from Pontiac Correctional Center, while Orange walked out of Cook County Jail. Howard was convicted of a separate crime and was not released.

The men said they were looking forward to eating home-cooked meals, celebrating birthdays and spending time with their families.

''It's a dream come true, finally. Thank God that this day has finally come,'' Hobley, 42, said as he left prison.

Hobley, who has been in prison for 16 years, said he plans to go back to work and ''frame my first paycheck to show I'm part of society.''

He also said he hoped the officers who tortured him would be investigated and charged.

Patterson got a dose of reality quickly. Before he ate his dinner of steak, onion rings and fries, he marveled at the cell phone he used.

''I'm still getting used to this cell phone. I am tripping,'' he said.

He also enjoyed moving his arms around freely as he ate.

''I'm not in a cell. This is so much room,'' he said, adding that he will appreciate ''the little things'' such as being in a room larger than a bathroom now that he is free.

Patterson said he plans to work on behalf of other prisoners on Death Row. Many of them gave him lists of people to call and things to do to help their cases, he said.

''I think this would be good therapy for me, to be doing something,'' he said.

His lawyer, Flint Taylor, agreed.

''He's coming out with a purpose. He's coming out caring about the men he was in with,'' Taylor said.

Taylor plans to fight a decision to place Patterson on parole for a previous crime, which Patterson said was attempted murder. Taylor said he doubted the governor intended for Patterson to be on probation.

Patterson's mother, Jo Ann, was amazed that anyone could stay in cramped prison cells.

''They took so much away from him. It got to the point they couldn't take anything else away,'' she said.

When Patterson arrived at his home in Chicago, he was pleased to find that his mother had saved all of his high school baseball trophies, which were on display in the family's living room.

She also had kept up the Christmas tree for him.

Patterson said he dealt with missing birthdays, deaths and other life events by ''phasing things out.''

''You don't want to ponder things,'' he said. ''You go away innocent, you wait for two days, a week, a month, and years go by and you get the thought, 'People are trying to kill me.'"

He thanked the governor for pardoning him.

''It took a lot of courage for what he did,'' Patterson said. ''I was hoping for the best, but I wasn't sure if he was going really to have the heart and the guts to make that call.

''It's unbelievable. Miracles do happen.''

AP

Mother watches with tears

BY CARLOS SADOVI STAFF REPORTER

Before Ollie Dodds went to sleep Thursday night, she said a prayer, begging God not to allow Gov. Ryan to pardon Madison Hobley.

Hobley is the man who until Friday was on Death Row for killing her daughter Johnnie Mae and six other people, including his own wife and son, in a fire in 1987.

But as Dodds, 71, sat in her Englewood apartment Friday and watched her television set and heard with her own ears Ryan say he would pardon Hobley, the pencil-thin great-grandmother visibly shook. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I told God to touch Gov. Ryan's heart and let him change his mind about doing what he said he was going to do," Dodds said. "I know God heard me, but Gov. Ryan wanted to do what he did. I know he is wrong. When you know somebody is wrong, you just have to cry. There ain't nothing I can do."

She dabbed her eyes with a crumpled tissue as Ryan portrayed Hobley in almost heroic terms--recounting the fire Jan. 6, 1987, in the 1100 block of East 82nd.

As Ryan's voice rang from the old Zenith set in her cramped living room, Dodds could see photos of her oldest child, who died at age 34 with her boyfriend, Robert Stevens, while the two slept.

When she was killed, Johnnie Mae, an Army nurse for seven years, was working as a nurse downtown at the Veterans Administration hospital and was serving in the U.S. Army Reserve. It was her dream job, Dodds said.

"She was someone who liked to help people all the time," Dodds said. "She would still be a happy person helping people."

Before Ryan's speech, she told about how she last saw her daughter and Stevens the night before the fire started. She broke down in tears as she remembered how another daughter who was accompanied by Stevens' mother relayed the news to her that Johnnie Mae had died.

"It was a shocking thing, I just couldn't believe it," Dodd said. "I never thought that would be the last time I saw her. It's something you never get over with; even when you visit their grave, you take a flower, but the memory is still there."

She said she still misses her daughter's nearly daily visits, when they would talk for hours and eat together.

She chastised Ryan for pardoning Hobley after courts had reviewed his conviction and refused to take him off Death Row.

Even though Ryan pointed to police torture by discredited Chicago police Lt. Jon Burge as a main reason for the pardon, she said she still believes the system worked the way it was supposed to.

Ryan pointed to other suspects in the crime, but Dodds said she believes Hobley is responsible. "I think he's the real killer; he should get the electric chair," Dodds said.

"I just feel bad about it. It's easy for Gov. Ryan to make those decisions. . . . I just wonder if he had lost a daughter if he would do it the same way. He didn't lose anybody in that fire."

Sister's long wait is finally rewarded

BY ANNIE SWEENEY STAFF REPORTER

Robin Hobley moved slowly and cautiously around the equipment of the national media that descended on her Rogers Park apartment Friday morning.

And then she got the phone call.

She knew some kind of announcement was coming. And she'd been invited to DePaul University, where Gov. Ryan was to make public his historic decisions about some prisoners on Death Row.

But by 9:30 a.m., Hobley had yet to read a paper or listen to the news. If she had, she would have known what her friend had called to congratulate her about--her brother, along with three other Death Row inmates, was about to be pardoned by the governor.

Two hours later, as she waited nervously for the governor's speech to begin, Hobley still couldn't believe that her brother, incarcerated 16 years and awaiting death, would be set free immediately.

On her way to DePaul--with media, anti-death penalty advocates and family--Hobley had even stopped to buy both city papers.

But it wasn't enough.

Speculation, she called it. And media speculation just wouldn't do, she said. She wanted to hear from Ryan himself.

After all, her brother--convicted of starting a 1987 fire on the Far South Side that killed seven people, including his wife and infant son--maintains he was tortured and beaten by police during questioning. And all of his appeals through the Illinois justice system failed. Just last July, she stood in a hallway at 26th and California, after Cook County Criminal Court Judge Dennis J. Porter denied Madison Hobley a new trial, and wailed, "They want to kill an innocent man.''

Chicago police have maintained that Madison Hobley confessed to the crime, and prosecutors stand by Porter's two-year review, which determined that witnesses who testified for him perjured themselves.

But his supporters say he was one of the victims of former Chicago police Lt. Jon Burge and detectives who worked under him--whose alleged brutality is being investigated by a special prosecutor.

Hobley's lawyers argued that evidence was withheld from them, including fingerprint evidence, a point disputed by prosecutors.

Defense attorneys also argued that a gasoline can used by another convicted arsonist was planted at the fire, which also is disputed.

Robin Hobley has known all of this a long time. And she has read plenty of court transcripts that turned her stomach.

Friday morning, just minutes before Ryan arrived, someone handed her another transcript.

It was an advance copy of Ryan's speech, and Hobley silently read the words the governor soon would speak to the world about what he believes happened to her brother.

About how a detective tossed his confession into the trash after coffee spilled on it. About how Madison Hobley was "bagged'' with a typewriter cover and beaten. About how the gas can used to convict Hobley was in pristine condition even after a fire and how his defense attorneys never were given the fingerprint reports.

Then she read this part out loud: "Today, I shall be a friend to Madison Hobley.''

And Robin Hobley wailed again.

"He's coming home. Oh my God! Oh my God!''

Ryan hears plea from Nelson Mandela

For years and especially the last few months, Gov. Ryan has received pleas from around the world to commute all death sentences in Illinois.

The most recent one came from South Africa over a corned beef sandwich at Manny's Deli in Chicago.

"Yesterday, I went to Manny's Deli for lunch, and I got a call from none other than Nelson Mandela," Ryan said.

"The report that I got from President Mandela is that America is a beacon of fairness and justice and the death penalty really doesn't pay homage to that kind of an operation," Ryan said.

He has also gotten letters from Desmond Tutu, former head of the Anglican Church in South Africa, and from the Vatican.

"I was in my office this morning when you were sleeping," Ryan said. "I was there until 2:30 this morning" agonizing over the remaining prisoners.

Abdon M. Pallasch

Clemency power in Constitution has ancient origin

Gov. Ryan's power to commute or pardon people on Death Row is rooted not only in the state Constitution but also in thousands of years of history.

Article 5, Section 12 of the Illinois Constitution gives the governor the power to pardon or commute after conviction. A commutation is a reduction in sentence, while a pardon ends someone's sentence and clears his or her name.

The concept of clemency originates from ancient Greece.

Daniel T. Kobil, a law professor at Capital University in Columbus, Ohio, wrote that to be pardoned in ancient Greece, one had to gather 6,000 signatures. "Grants of clemency often hinged on popularity rather than concerns that a just result be reached,'' Kobil said.

The English also adopted the practice. In 1535, under the reign of Henry VIII, Parliament gave the king the sole power of pardons. After a series of royal scandals, Parliament curbed royal pardoning power and in 1721, granted itself the pardon power.

The clemency power in the United States stems from the English system. The U.S. Constitution gives the president clemency power in all federal cases except impeachment.

In the late 1700s, most states rejected centralizing clemency power with governors. Many states had executive and legislative branches sharing the power. But as the states drafted constitutions, the idea that the executive should have the sole power to grant clemency became popular.

Today, more than half of the states, including Illinois, give clemency power to the governor alone. In other states, the governor and a board jointly make decisions, or a board appointed by the governor holds the power.

Sun-Times Springfield Bureau

Gov. George Ryan's speech announcing his commutation of all Illinois death sentences

BY ASSOCIATED PRESS

The text prepared for delivery Saturday by Illinois Gov. George Ryan at Northwestern University's law school:

Four years ago I was sworn in as the 39th governor of Illinois. That was just four short years ago-- that's when I was a firm believer in the American system of justice and the death penalty. I believed that the ultimate penalty for the taking of a life was administrated in a just and fair manner.

Today-- three days before I end my term as governor, I stand before you to explain my frustrations and deep concerns about both the administration and the penalty of death. It is fitting that we are gathered here today at Northwestern University with the students, teachers, lawyers and investigators who first shed light on the sorrowful condition of Illinois' death penalty system. Professors Larry Marshall, Dave Protess and their students along with investigators Paul Ciolino have gone above the call. They freed the falsely accused Ford Heights Four, they saved Anthony Porter's life, they fought for Rolando Cruz and Alex Hernandez. They devoted time and effort on behalf of Aaron Patterson, a young man who lost 15 years of his youth sitting among the condemned, and Leroy Orange, who lost 17 of the best years of his life on death row.

It is also proper that we are together with dedicated people like Andrea Lyon who has labored on the front lines trying capital cases for many years and who is now devoting her passion to creating an innocence center at DePaul University. You saved Madison Hobley's life.

Together they spared the lives and secured the freedom of 17 men-- men who were wrongfully convicted and rotting in the condemned units of our state prisons. What you have achieved is of the highest calling-- thank you!

Yes, it is right that I am here with you, where, in a manner of speaking, my journey from staunch supporter of capital punishment to reformer all began. But I must tell you-- since the beginning of our journey-- my thoughts and feelings about the death penalty have changed many, many times. I realize that over the course of my reviews I had said that I would not do blanket commutation. I have also said it was an option that was there and I would consider all options.

During my time in public office I have always reserved my right to change my mind if I believed it to be in the best public interest, whether it be about taxes, abortions or the death penalty. But I must confess that the debate with myself has been the toughest concerning the death penalty. I suppose the reason the death penalty has been the toughest is because it is so final-- the only public policy that determines who lives and who dies. In addition it is the only issue that attracts most of the legal minds across the country. I have received more advice on this issue than any other policy issue I have dealt with in my 35 years of public service. I have kept an open mind on both sides of the issues of commutation for life or death.

I have read, listened to and discussed the issue with the families of the victims as well as the families of the condemned. I know that any decision I make will not be accepted by one side or the other. I know that my decision will be just that-- my decision-- based on all the facts I could gather over the past three years. I may never be comfortable with my final decision, but I will know in my heart, that I did my very best to do the right thing.

Having said that I want to share a story with you:

I grew up in Kankakee which even today is still a small midwestern town, a place where people tend to know each other. Steve Small was a neighbor. I watched him grow up. He would baby-sit my young children-- which was not for the faint of heart since Lura Lynn and I had six children, five of them under the age of 3. He was a bright young man who helped run the family business. He got married and he and his wife had three children of their own. Lura Lynn was especially close to him and his family. We took comfort in knowing he was there for us and we for him.

One September midnight he received a call at his home. There had been a break-in at the nearby house he was renovating. But as he left his house, he was seized at gunpoint by kidnappers. His captors buried him alive in a shallow hole. He suffocated to death before police could find him.

His killer led investigators to where Steve's body was buried. The killer, Danny Edward, was also from my hometown. He now sits on death row. I also know his family. I share this story with you so that you know I do not come to this as a neophyte without having experienced a small bit of the bitter pill the survivors of murder must swallow.

My responsibilities and obligations are more than my neighbors and my family. I represent all the people of Illinois-- like it or not. The decision I make about our criminal justice system is felt not only here, but the world over.

The other day, I received a call from former South African President Nelson Mandela who reminded me that the United States sets the example for justice and fairness for the rest of the world. Today the United States is not in league with most of our major allies: Europe, Canada, Mexico, most of South and Central America. These countries rejected the death penalty. We are partners in death with several third world countries. Even Russia has called a moratorium.

The death penalty has been abolished in 12 states. In none of these states has the homicide rate increased. In Illinois last year we had about 1,000 murders; only 2 percent of that 1,000 were sentenced to death. Where is the fairness and equality in that? The death penalty in Illinois is not imposed fairly or uniformly because of the absence of standards for the 102 Illinois state's attorneys, who must decide whether to request the death sentence. Should geography be a factor in determining who gets the death sentence? I don't think so but in Illinois it makes a difference. You are five times more likely to get a death sentence for first degree murder in the rural area of Illinois than you are in Cook County. Where is the justice and fairness in that-- where is the proportionality?

The Most Reverend Desmond Tutu wrote to me this week stating that "to take a life when a life has been lost is revenge, it is not justice." He says justice allows for mercy, clemency and compassion. These virtues are not weakness.

"In fact the most glaring weakness is that no matter how efficient and fair the death penalty may seem in theory, in actual practice it is primarily inflicted upon the weak, the poor, the ignorant and against racial minorities." That was a quote from former California Governor Pat Brown. He wrote that in his book-- "Public Justice, Private Mercy." He wrote that nearly 50 years ago-- nothing has changed in nearly 50 years.

I never intended to be an activist on this issue. I watched in surprise as freed death row inmate Anthony Porter was released from jail. A free man, he ran into the arms of Northwestern University Professor Dave Protess, who poured his heart and soul into proving Porter's innocence with his journalism students.

He was 48 hours away from being wheeled into the execution chamber where the state would kill him.

It would all be so antiseptic and most of us would not have even paused, except that Anthony Porter was innocent of the double murder for which he had been condemned to die.

After Mr. Porter's case there was the report by Chicago Tribune reporters Steve Mills and Ken Armstrong documenting the systemic failures of our capital punishment system. Half of the nearly 300 capital cases in Illinois had been reversed for a new trial or resentencing.

Nearly Half!

Thirty-three of the death row inmates were represented at trial by an attorney who had later been disbarred or at some point suspended from practicing law.

Of the more than 160 death row inmates, 35 were African American defendants who had been convicted or condemned to die by all-white juries.

More than two-thirds of the inmates on death row were African American.

Forty-six inmates were convicted on the basis of testimony from jailhouse informants.

I can recall looking at these cases and the information from the Mills/Armstrong series and asking my staff: How does that happen? How in God's name does that happen? I'm not a lawyer, so somebody explain it to me.

But no one could. Not to this day.

Then over the next few months, there were three more exonerated men, freed because their sentence hinged on a jailhouse informant or new DNA technology proved beyond a shadow of doubt their innocence.

We then had the dubious distinction of exonerating more men than we had executed. Thirteen men found innocent, 12 executed.

Copyright 2003 Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.