Stolen Innocence : Death penalty foes are easily gulled by vicious murderers

"This man might be innocent; this man is due to die," blared the May 18, 1992, cover of Time magazine. "Roger Keith Coleman was convicted of killing his sister-in-law in 1982. The courts have refused to hear the evidence that could save him." Accompanying the text was a full-cover photo of a shackled Coleman, looking morose in prison garb.

Before Coleman was sent to the electric chair two days later for the rape, stabbing and near-beheading of 19-year-old Wanda McCoy, his protestations of innocence had put an anti-death-penalty PR machine firmly in his corner. This man with a previous history of attempted rape became a cause célèbre telling his woeful tale of justice gone awry. "An innocent man is going to be murdered tonight," he declared before his electrocution.

A dramatic sound bite that proved hollow last week, when new DNA testing ordered by Virginia's Gov. Mark Warner proved Coleman's guilt. James McCloskey of Centurion Ministries, who had spent nearly two decades trying to prove Coleman's innocence, was befuddled, asking the Washington Post: "How can somebody, with such equanimity, such dignity, such quiet confidence, make those his final words even though he is guilty?"

It happens all the time. Killers rally sympathetic activists behind them by using the manipulative skills that are integral to their criminal careers.

Kevin Cooper is an inmate on California's death row who escaped execution on Feb. 9, 2004, when the Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals granted a last-minute stay to retest evidence. This evidence withstood that retesting, and other defense arguments have been since shot down in federal district court. The appeals process on those findings is now working its way through the courts, and the earliest he may face execution again--if appeals go in favor of the state--may be late this year.

His case has slipped into the background lately as death-penalty foes stole the airways in hopes of clemency for Stanley "Tookie" Williams. Yet the two murderers share many of the same supporters. As the "Save Tookie" campaign gathered thousands of signatures petitioning for the quadruple killer's clemency, the "Save Kevin Cooper" Web site has been championing his cause and featuring his writings.

Cooper's case is one in which it's hard to imagine anyone jumping on his bandwagon. He was an inmate at the California Institution for Men in Chino, serving time for burglary, when he escaped on June 2, 1983. Two days later he broke into the Chino Hills home of the Ryen family as they were sleeping and killed the parents, Douglas and Peggy, along with 10-year-old Jessica Ryen and 11-year-old Christopher Hughes, a friend of Joshua Ryen, who was the only family member to survive. "The first time I met Kevin Cooper I was 8 years old and he slit my throat," Joshua Ryen testified at an April 22 hearing in U.S. District Court in San Diego. "He hit me with a hatchet and put a hole in my skull. . . . I laid there 11 hours looking at my mother who was right beside me."

But Cooper does not lack supporters: the likes of Jesse Jackson, Mike Farrell, Richard Dreyfuss, Sean Penn and Denzel Washington have come to his defense. One would think that appropriate monikers for Cooper would have career-sensitive celebrities running for the hills: Ax murderer. Child killer. Mass murderer.

It's apparently lost on them that the people they're dealing with are master manipulators. Ted Bundy gave a videotaped interview to James Dobson hours before his 1989 execution in which he blamed his crimes on violent pornography. On the tape, Bundy is in the midst of an emotional monologue when a phone rings in the distance. For the slightest second, Bundy breaks from character and his eyes dart in the direction of the phone, perhaps hoping a stay was waiting on the other end of the line. And just like that, he's back into his emotional testimony on the evils of violent porn. This video was shown in one of my college criminology classes as an example of the offender as a manipulator.

"Offenders who have become adept at manipulating can exert complete control over others, especially children," writes renowned criminal psychologist Eric Hickey in "Serial Murderers and Their Victims." Society still has an image, though, of the dangerous offender carrying on in a continuously depraved manner and incapable of rational discourse or "good deeds." Remember "Coed Killer" Ed Kemper's genius IQ, and his ability to convince a court psychiatrist of his excellent progress, even as a victim's head was in the trunk of his car outside; or serial killer John Wayne Gacy's charitable work with the Jaycees and dressing up as a clown at children's parties.

An anti-death-penalty group's Voices From Inside project lets killers such as Richard Allen Davis--whose murder of little Polly Klaas sparked California's "Three Strikes" law--seek pen pals, inviting God knows who into their manipulative world. "Greetings with a smile," reads Davis's introduction. "Could there be anyone who could take the time to see for themselves, just who I really am."

We shudder at the thought of "Night Stalker" Richard Ramirez or Yosemite killer Cary Stayner luring admirers through their court exposure, but how different is that from the flocks who are drawn to the sides of the likes of Williams, Coleman or Cooper to parrot their protestations of innocence despite overwhelming evidence?

And why wouldn't Williams have been a master manipulator? He was a gang leader, which requires a certain arm-twisting ability not only to keep operations running, but to recruit and build ranks. "Save Tookie" coordinator Barbara Becnel became convinced that the convicted murderer was a man on a mission. But was this a mission to save the 'hood or save his hide? Williams refused to cooperate in helping authorities clean up the Crips network. Regardless, like other killers before him, he won over scores who believed in his reformation through his "anti-gang efforts" and prose. "A close look at Williams' post-arrest and post-conviction conduct tells a story that is different from redemption," stated Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger's clemency denial. And though not a children's book author, Cooper has been writing from behind bars for several years, essays posted on his Web site with sympathetic titles such as "Suffering in Silence" and "Good vs. Evil."

Death-penalty foes could simply cite their general opposition to capital punishment as sufficient reason why they want the likes of Cooper spared, or why they believed executing Williams and Coleman was wrong. But perpetuating conspiracy-laden arguments of framing and innocence cooked up by the offenders shows that their advocates are just caught up in the manipulation, championing unrepentant killers at the expense of their victims. These murderers know exactly what they're doing in chalking up the sympathy to corral their stable of supporters.

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