The Old Chain of Rocks Bridge
I have never been numb to the loss of human life in murder cases, though my work to end the death penalty has meant that I have spent most of my time trying to prevent the executions of those who are convicted of murder. The story of the 1991 “Chain of Rocks Murder Case,” as it is known in St. Louis, is especially poignant to me not just because I am working to stop the execution of Reggie Clemons—a man convicted as an accomplice to the murders and given the death penalty—but because I also have much in common with the two young women who perished.
I am not a family member of a murder victim, and I have no real connection to Julie and Robin Kerry, the women who died twenty-one years ago. So I am grateful to Jeanine Cummins, one of their cousins, for having written about Julie and Robin Kerry, and the terrible journey their family experienced. Her writing has helped me build a larger picture of the meaning of this case and the people it has impacted.
If Julie Kerry were still alive, she and I would about the same age. Like her, I am a white, middle class kid from a decent family with deep spiritual roots. Their grandfather studied to be a priest at one point; my father is a pastor. Like both of them, I became a supporter of Amnesty International as a teenager and had posters and t-shirts in support of social justice causes. And while I don’t think I am the gifted writer that Julie was, I have, like her, used writing to proclaim my ideals and urge people to work for a better world.
The loss of these two young women goes beyond adjectives like “tragic” or “terrible.” It is my hope that in society’s quest for justice in murder cases that we will not compound the tragedy of the victim’s death by putting other families through the excruciating experience of having their loved ones killed. It is also my sincere hope that we in the anti-death penalty movement do not lose sight of or fail to acknowledge the original victims in capital cases: the murder victims.
The death penalty is such a charged issue that it often moves the spotlight from murder victims to those sentenced to death for the crimes. For this reason, family members of some murder victims support the abolition of the death penalty, arguing that a life sentence would actually have given them greater and more rapid closure than the controversy and often lengthy legal processes associated with death penalty cases.
In our campaign to stop Georgia from executing Troy Davis, we used the slogan, I am Troy Davis to emphasize the humanity of a man whom the state had written off as “a monster who deserved to be killed.” We sought a way to express the principle that human rights are inalienable and belong to us all, and that we all must therefore be invested in each other’s dignity and rights.
This is true not just for the innocent but for those cases in which someone has done the unthinkable. It is equally true for murder victims. I could say “I am Reggie Clemons” to make the same point. And really, I could say, “I am Julie and Robin Kerry,” too, because all three were born with the right to life.
On this day, the 21st anniversary of the deaths of Julie and Robin Kerry, I would like to offer my deepest sympathy to their loved ones on behalf of an organization that was founded to decrease suffering and injustice. And I continue to pray for a world where the human right to life is upheld by individuals and governments alike.
Laura, if you have compassion for the Kerry family then why do you insist on rewriting the facts? Reggie Clemons wasn't convicted of being an accomplice to murder, he was convicted of murder. He was convicted of personally pushing the girls off the bridge. Way to slap the Kerry family in the face once again!
Thank you for this reflection, Laura. I am a relative of the Kerry sisters. I don't know all of the facts aside from what was written in "Rip in Heaven" since I am a distant relative living in Louisiana. My dad told me about Julie and Robin's family – about the anger, pain and death wishes that come from great pain and our own fear of death and the unknown. It took me months before I could read the book. Then I shared it with so many others because it was not about seeking the death penalty for the perpetrators – It was about evil and the way we can't determine or grasp the horror and lack of control we have over something that makes no sense. We watch it on television, as Augustine says in his Confessions, because we seek justice and try to figure out our own propensity to sin. Sin is fear of the other, said Pope Benedict XVI. In this case Julie and Robin knew that. They were martyrs for those against the death penalty because they stood against it and suffered it themselves – unjustly, unfairly and without a trial. They were innocent of crime and undeserving to suffer. Thank goodness for groups like Amnesty, for those advocating non-violence, for those martyred (witnesses) who stand against the darkness so that it encroaches no further.
Very touching article! Being able to relate to a problem makes a big difference in your work. You are leading a tough struggle, but I'm sure you will reach your goal.
I am an aunt of Julie and Robin, and am opposed to the death penalty, as they were. Their seth have not changed my opinion on the death penalty. In fact, prior to the trials, I spoke with the prosecutor about their anti-death penalty stances. It didn't matter to them.
I fully believe that the four men charged with the rapes and murders of my nieces are, in fact, guilty. I do not, however, believe that killing them makes any sense – whether as punishment, deterrent, or retribution. I will never understand how killing a person can be sanctioned as punishment for the crime of killing someone else.
This is the 24th anniversary of Julie and Robin's deaths. I miss knowing who they might have been. I mourn that my children, their cousins, will never think first of their joy for life, but of the horror of their deaths. I grieve for their mother and father, their sisters, who have all struggled to pick up the pieces and make a life around a gaping void.
I miss Julie and Robin. They truly were intelligent, warm, funny, concerned girls with a lot of concern for others and our world. They are gone. Killing the perpetrators will not change that fact.
Unbelievable.