Friend of the family hits the big time

Before Momma Pug met the Aggie, he worked for The Huntsville Item in Huntsville, TX. He covered the death penalty--including the executions themselves (by his own count, he's seen 37 of them). While there, he became very good friends with the District Attorney, David Weeks. In the years since, The Aggie's friend has become the family's friend.

On Saturday, the Dallas Morning News did a profile on him--or, more precisely, his support of the death penalty. Several of the cases mentioned in the story were covered by The Aggie and were as heinous as David makes them out to be.

(In case you're curious, The Aggie supports the death penalty too.)

We think David should run for Texas Attorney General. He refuses. Read the story and see if you'd support him.


HUNTSVILLE – David Weeks has sent eight men to death row.

His office sits a few blocks from the state's death chamber; his phone rings nonstop on execution days. Hordes of journalists descend periodically on the "death penalty capital."

Walker County DA David Weeks opposed the death penalty into college. When an inmate showed no remorse after stomping two people to death, his mind changed.
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"It's here in our back yard," says Mr. Weeks.

He says he's comfortable being part of the state's "death machine" because "it's the right thing to do."

Mr. Weeks, 57, has been Walker County district attorney for 17 years. He's also been an assistant DA in other counties and was a prosecutor in the prison system.

He thinks the death penalty is a deterrent and, "The ultimate punishment has to be there to make the rest of the system work. There are certain people that because [of] their crimes and who they are, can never be trusted."

He points to the recent capital murder indictment of two inmates accused of killing a guard while trying to escape. No one can argue, "Let's put 'em in prison, where they can't hurt anybody," Mr. Weeks says.

Pacifist upbringing

Mr. Weeks was raised in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where his family attended the Church of the Brethren, which has a strong pacifist tradition. "My ancestors that lived on that land refused to serve in the Civil War," he says.

Mr. Weeks wrestled with questions about the taking of life while attending the University of Virginia. He opposed the Vietnam War, and with his family's history of pacifism and his perfect church attendance, he could easily have sought conscientious objector status. But he didn't because he says, "I felt there were times that you had to fight."

After he wasn't drafted, Mr. Weeks continued to oppose the death penalty in occasional intellectual discussions with fellow philosophy majors.

Mr. Weeks – who attended the University of Houston law school – envisioned himself as a defense attorney. He liked the way television's Perry Mason would "get out there and fight for people."

But in 1981, while working as an intern, an inmate who helped "beat and stomp" two people to death for a few dollars and a pair of boots changed his mind.

"Man, I don't need to spend the rest of my life in here," the inmate kept repeating.

"He had no remorse," Mr. Weeks marvels. "No remorse. It was all about 'me.'

"It made me sick."

He became a prosecutor.

By 1986, he was employed by the state's special prison prosecution unit and facing his first capital case.

Ramon Mata, already serving time for murder, confessed to stabbing a guard. Blood evidence tied him to the victim. "This was just clear cut," Mr. Weeks says. "You know, what am I gonna do – send him back to prison for more?"

A clear choice

Mr. Weeks says the choice has to be clear. He estimates that he opts for the death penalty in 10 percent of eligible cases.

But he disagrees with the Supreme Court decision that juveniles shouldn't be executed.

The court ruled that they are not fully culpable and standards of decency "that mark the progress of a maturing society" have changed.

In 1997, he prosecuted Raymond Levi Cobb, who was 17 when he robbed and killed a young mother and buried her 16-month-old child alive. "That crime was about as ugly a thing as I'd ever seen a human being do," Mr. Weeks says.

"My jury knew Cobb was 17 when he committed the crime," he says. "They knew what they were dealing with."

He was equally disappointed by the court's blanket ban on execution of the mentally retarded.

He prefers a case-by-case determination.

"There are many mentally retarded people that live good and productive lives and don't go out and kill and maim and hurt anybody. ... It's offensive to them to lump 'em in with these criminals."

He assisted in one of the trials of John Penry, one of Texas' most high-profile retardation homicide cases.

Mr. Penry was convicted of rape and murder in Livingston in 1979, while on parole for another rape. A few years later, the Supreme Court ruled that the jury had not been able to properly consider Mr. Penry's mental capacity. The case was tried three times. Each time, the lower court's death sentence was reversed.

In February, both sides agreed to commute the death sentence to three life sentences. As part of the agreement, Mr. Penry stipulated that he was not, in fact, mentally retarded. "Johnny Paul Penry deserved to die, should be dead. He's a dangerous man, and he has played the system."

One execution

Only one inmate Mr. Weeks prosecuted has been executed. Mr. Mata – who used to send Mr. Weeks Christmas cards – died in prison. The other cases also were reversed and retried, resulting in life sentences.

But when Billy George Hughes was executed, Mr. Weeks was there. "I felt that if I'm going to ask people to put someone to death that I should be willing to go there," he says.

Mr. Hughes was condemned for shooting a state trooper in 1976. Another officer witnessed the slaying.

Before the deadly chemicals were injected eight years ago, "Mr. Hughes was kind enough to make me feel very good about the decision I made," Mr. Weeks says.

"He started talking about ...'I didn't do anything. You're executing an innocent man.'... He never apologized for killing [the victim], he never showed any remorse, and he never took any responsibility.... I was furious this man is going to meet his maker with a lie on his lips."

Even the possibility that an innocent person may be executed doesn't shake him. "That's always a risk in the system," he says. "It's a human system, it's going to be fallible.

"Mistakes happen," he says. "People die by friendly fire... we have to work to make sure that the system works perfectly.'

He also is not swayed by seemingly sympathetic inmates such as Karla Faye Tucker, the soft-spoken, photogenic pickax murderess who seemed to have found religion and changed her life before being put to death in 1998.

"As a Christian, I'm happy for her," Mr. Weeks says. "But sometimes you have to pay for your deeds."

Mr. Weeks, now a Methodist, can quote the Bible with ease. He's familiar with the commandment not to kill and with Jesus' demand to turn the other cheek.

But, he says, "Jesus said, 'render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's.' And he forgave the thief on the cross – but he didn't remove him from the cross.'"

He believes in forgiveness, and redemption. He quietly helps some inmates, including murderers, upon release.

But his bottom line is this: "There are some crimes that are so far beyond the pale of human understanding that the death penalty is the only appropriate punishment.

"I never lose sight of their humanity," he adds, but "I never forget what they did."