It was a terrifying delusion -- one that could only seem real to someone plagued by paranoid schizophrenia: Russell Weston was the illegitimate son of John F. Kennedy, a recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, and the "commander of all the armies in the world." While working for NASA during the early 1980s, he developed the "Ruby Satellite System," a time machine that allowed users to "push time in reverse."
The time machine was controlled by cannibals who had overused the system. The most innocuous consequences had been "computers not working right, bones being irregularly shaped, telephone poles and electric poles being uneven, buildings leaning, [and] rock structures distorting and swelling." But the cannibals' excesses also spawned "Black Heva," a plague-like disease that "result[s] from human corpses rotting, turning black, and spreading the most deadliest disease known to mankind."
Weston was also a former confidant of Bill Clinton. But the 42nd U.S. President was out to get him before he spilled the real truth about Kennedy's assassination: Clinton orchestrated the hit because JFK had stolen Clinton's girlfriend, Marilyn Monroe. This man who knew too much was being stalked by the CIA and FBI, his every move watched by electronic appliances. His yard was sown with land mines and his water poisoned with a special gas, while a military sniper laid low in an adjacent cornfield. President Clinton, in turn, planned to drop an atomic bomb on his cabin.
The irony of Weston's delusions is that today, government officials do, in fact, want to kill him. Federal prosecutors have accused Weston of the 1998 murder of two Capitol Hill police officers and are asking the courts' permission to force Weston to take antipsychotic medication that might render him competent to stand trial. If convicted, he could face the death penalty.
Before the killings, the unemployed 43-year-old had lived with his elderly parents; for most of his life, he split time between his family's home in Illinois and its small shack in Montana. Weston's mental illness was well known to his neighbors, although most considered him a harmless eccentric. And yet the warning signs were painfully obvious, particularly in his contact with government and health officials.
In the summer of 1996, Weston drove to CIA headquarters in Washington, D.C. and attempted to meet with the Agency's director. He offered the details of the Ruby Satellite System, the Kennedy-Clinton connection, and other delusions during a brief interview with a CIA agent, but he wasn't detained or otherwise tracked because he had not threatened the president. Three months later, Weston was involuntarily committed to a Montana psychiatric institute after menacing an emergency room worker. He had a number of violent episodes in the facility and refused antipsychotic medicine; when the drugs were administered by force, however, his condition seemed to improve. After seven weeks, Weston was released with a month's supply of medication.
But Weston soon went off his meds and skipped follow-up treatment, allowing his mental illness to spiral out of control. Convinced that "time was running out," Weston took it upon himself to save the world. On July 23, 1998, he drove 750 miles to the U.S. Capitol -- which, Weston believed, contained one of three consoles for the Ruby Satellite System, capable of overriding the time machine and thereby stemming the deadly epidemic of Black Heva. The next day, Weston walked through the metal detectors in the Capitol building and fired a .38 revolver point-blank at Officer Jacob Chestnut, killing him instantly. He then ran down a hallway and exchanged shots with Officer John Gibson, fatally injuring the Capitol policeman and taking three bullets himself.
To describe these incidents as tragic is a gross understatement: Two loved and respected officers, family men both, are dead at the hands of a madman. What's worse, all of this might have been prevented if Weston had been properly diagnosed earlier in his life, if he had been provided medical care, if government agents had taken his deranged rants more seriously, or if he had been involuntarily committed to a mental health facility for more than just a few weeks. It's too late, of course, to undo the damage; Weston slipped through the cracks and, as a result, the officers paid the ultimate price. Admittedly, the causal link between the events is far from linear, with numerous individuals and institutions missing or even ignoring the cues of Weston's illness over the course of many years. But failure to intervene allowed Weston's delusions to snowball, virtually guaranteeing an eventual catastrophe.
And yet, the American criminal justice system's appointed actors are prepared to compound the tragedy by sacrificing another life. In a six-count indictment, Russell Weston has been charged with the premeditated murders of two federal officers engaged in their official duties, crimes that carry the possibility of capital punishment. It appears, in fact, that federal prosecutors would like nothing better than to try, convict, and execute Weston -- the sooner, the better. After all, law enforcement agents lost their lives, many people were caught in the crossfire -- and all of this happened in our great citadel of democracy, the U.S. Capitol. "There are 700,000 police officers in this country, and almost all of them support the death penalty when their fellow officers are killed," a spokesman for the National Association of Police Chiefs said in an interview with The Washington Post. "And believe me, those officers and their families are going to make their feelings known to the politicians."
An obstacle stands between Weston and the gallows, however: the U.S. Constitution. The Supreme Court has consistently recognized that "the criminal trial of an incompetent defendant violates due process." Specifically, a defendant is incompetent to stand trial unless he "has sufficient present ability to consult with his lawyer with a reasonable degree of rational understanding," and "a rational as well as factual understanding of the proceedings against him." In other words, the accused must realize that he is on trial and is charged with particular crimes, must be able to recall relevant facts and events, must be capable of assisting legal counsel in presenting a defense, and so on. Rooted in the common law, this limitation is the bedrock of Anglo-American jurisprudence, ensuring the fundamental rights of a criminal defendant. After all, how could the accused assist in his defense and invoke or waive his myriad constitutional rights if he has no clue as to who he is, where he is, or why he's there? In this sense, the prosecution of an incompetent individual is no different from a trial in absentia; the defendant may be physically present in the courtroom, but for all intents and purposes, his mind is somewhere else.
As interpreted by the Supreme Court, the Constitution also prohibits the execution of the presently insane. This restriction is grounded in the Eighth Amendment's ban on "cruel and unusual punishment" and the theoretical limits it places on criminal sanction. The Court has repeatedly acknowledged that "death is different" in kind from all other types of state punishment, thereby requiring a super-process to narrow the pool of death-eligible offenders and a snug fit between the goals of punishment and those condemned to die. To jurists and scholars, executing the "insane" (or "incompetent," as the terms are often used interchangeably) creates a number of pragmatic, philosophical, and even spiritual dilemmas.
As a practical matter, the insane individual can provide little assistance to his legal counsel during a capital trial or, assuming a sentence of death, the various post-conviction appeals and requests for stays of execution, commutation, or clemency. In terms of religious tenets, the condemned madman cannot mentally and spiritually prepare for death, making the necessary peace with his creator. Most importantly, executing the insane advances none of the accepted justifications for capital punishment. Almost by definition, insane killers-to-be will not be deterred by executing the incompetent; their antisocial actions, like those that put the insane man on death row, are irrational and therefore beyond the influence of cost-benefit analysis. Finally, retributive theory demands that individuals be punished in proportion to their moral blameworthiness, as measured by volitional acts and a conscious choice to do evil. The psychotic killer lacks the necessary control over his mind and body, making him categorically different, for example, from a mafia hit man. The intentional, premeditated killing (i.e., execution) of an insane person is therefore out of proportion to his irrational acts and unbalanced mental state.
As might be expected, the trial judge for Weston's case deemed him incompetent to stand trial after a number of psychiatric evaluations and committed him to a federal institution until his mental faculties were restored. This should have been the end of the story, with an incredibly sick man likely ensconced in a secure medical facility for the balance of his life. (In the unlikely case that Weston becomes competent at some later point, he would not be released into society as a free man, but instead would stand trial for his alleged crimes.) Yet the Bureau of Corrections and federal prosecutors had other ideas -- namely, to medicate Weston with antipsychotics. The ostensible goals were to relieve the pains of his insanity and protect Weston and others from schizophrenia-related violence. To everyone but the court, these rationales were blatantly transparent: If prosecutors were so worried about his personal well being, why didn't they begin civil commitment proceedings? And why were these "humanitarians" unwilling to take the death penalty off the table? Moreover, Weston had shown no suicidal tendencies or evidence of self-abuse and remained in solitary confinement, where he posed little danger to his professional caretakers.
Prosecutors offered another justification for involuntary medical treatment: Rendering Weston competent to stand trial for capital murder. Clearly, the federal government has a substantial interest in bringing a competent defendant to trial to answer for his alleged crimes. But the next step -- that officials can forcibly medicate an incompetent defendant so that they can seek his conviction and possible execution -- is highly debatable and morally treacherous.
A decade ago, the Supreme Court danced around this issue without directly answering it. In 1990, the justices ruled that a convicted inmate could be involuntarily administered antipsychotic drugs to further "legitimate penological interests," such as the safety of the convict or those around him. Conversely, the Court held two years later that forcibly medicating a detainee (i.e., someone who has yet to be convicted) without analysis of medical necessity or reasonable alternatives infringed on the detainee's liberty interest in being free from mind altering drugs, as well as his full array of trial-related rights. But the Court made clear the limits of its decision: "The question, whether a competent criminal defendant may refuse antipsychotic medication if cessation of medication would render him incompetent at trial, is not before us." (Emphasis added.)
Understandably, Weston's defense counsel fought tooth and nail against medicating their client unless the government dropped its plans to pursue the death penalty. To them, the forced administration of antipsychotic drugs presented the first link in an unbroken chain toward Weston's execution -- which, of course, is antithetical to their client's legal interests. Nonetheless, the defense attorneys were vilified by some; one op-ed in The Washington Post castigated Weston's lawyers for "nothing short of guerrilla tactics" by "hold[ing] their client 'hostage' to madness." Their concerns "put the cart before the horse," the writer argued, given that "[t]he death penalty is irrelevant until there is a trial, during which Mr. Weston would have a constitutional right to try to vindicate his name." Not surprisingly, the federal trial court offered a similar argument, dripping with formalism, to justify medicating Weston for the express goal of making him competent to stand trial. Given the speculative nature of any trial prejudice from the effects of antipsychotic drugs and the contingency of capital punishment in this case, the judge reasoned that it wasn't "essential . . . to resolve all of these uncertainties at this stage of the proceedings."
But here are just a few reasons why neither the trial judge nor defense critics can smugly guarantee that Weston will not be unjustly tried, convicted and executed: For starters, the general public has long had a fearful aversion to the mentally ill, preferring that they be weeded from society in whatever manner it takes. There is also an abiding conviction among unaffected citizens that those who raise insanity claims are malingering -- "faking it" to avoid well-deserved punishment. This sentiment is only compounded by the myth of killers getting away with murder en masse, claiming insanity and then walking out of the courtroom free as birds. The reality, however, is that only one quarter of 1 percent of all felony prosecutions result in a verdict of "not guilty by reason of insanity" (NGI) and that those who do successfully raise insanity defenses are not released on the streets but are instead institutionalized in mental facilities.
Ironically, Weston's slim chances at an NGI verdict will be significantly diminished by the very drugs intended to make him sane enough to stand trial in the first place. Among the many side effects of antipsychotic medicine is parkinsonism, resulting in a "masklike" face, rigid movements, and rhythmic muscle tremors. "Will a jury that sees and hears a different Weston, one who is medicated and non-delusional, be as likely to believe that he truly thought there was a Ruby Satellite System?" asked one federal circuit court judge on an earlier appeal in Weston's case. "I think the answer is obvious," the judge concluded. "A jury listening to a non-delusional Weston explain, perhaps quite passively, that at the time of the crime he believed he had to save the world from the Ruby Satellite System will be considerably more skeptical than a jury that sees and hears the person [medical experts] saw and heard." What's more, studies have found that jurors often view mental illness as an aggravating factor that precipitates guilty verdicts ("I don't want this guy out on the streets"), and justifies death sentences ("This guy will be an ongoing threat to innocent people unless he's executed").
Legal formalists would like to believe that any errors in the trial process will be corrected on appeal, but the reality is much less sanguine: Reviewing courts presume, as a matter of law and judicial practice, that a convicted criminal found competent to stand trial -- whose rights were formally addressed by the trial judge, whose insanity claim was rejected by the jury, and who is sentenced to death despite claims of mental illness -- is, in fact, guilty and sufficiently competent to meet his maker. Pro forma analysis by higher courts is often exacerbated by the break-neck speed in which the appeals and petitions are reviewed. Take the case of Leslie Lowenfield, who was convicted of killing his former girlfriend and four of her relatives. Although there was substantial reason to doubt Lowenfield's sanity and his ability to comprehend his impending death, a final appeal scudded through the state courts in 24 hours, and the U.S. Supreme Court took all of 15 minutes to read and analyze the lower court cases and vote to deny his stay of execution. Lowenfield was executed and pronounced dead only 20 minutes later.
Should all else fail, however, apologists point to clemency as a final barrier against executing the mentally ill or feeble-minded. And, in truth, at least one example exists of gubernatorial mercy preventing a wrongful execution: In 1993, Bobby Shaw, a 41-year-old brain damaged schizophrenic, was on the verge of death; despite border-line retardation, command hallucinations, and a failure to understand his impending execution, all of his legal appeals had been exhausted. But with only a few days remaining, the late Missouri Governor Mel Carnahan bravely commuted Shaw's sentence because "death may be fundamentally unfair." In this case, at least, the final safety valve worked.
Yet I would like to suggest a more appropriate case, that of Larry Robison. Convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to death, Robison was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic early in his life; and like Russell Weston, he believed that the CIA and military forces were out to get him. But also like Weston, Robison slipped through the cracks of the mental health and criminal justice systems. He killed with an irresistible impulse "to find God" and looked forward to his execution like "waiting for Santa Claus to come." However, Robison also believed that "this is really just a movie," and that the state was powerless to kill him, particularly since he had already been dead a number of times. Despite his obvious mental illness and pleas for mercy by, among others, Pope John Paul II, Robison's petition for clemency was denied and he was executed on January 21, 2000.
Which state executive passed on Robison's last chance at life? It was George W. Bush -- then Texas Governor -- the very man who will hold Russell Weston's fate in his hands if all death penalty appeals are exhausted, and nothing stands between death and the man who believed he was JFK's son, the former friend of Bill Clinton, and the commander of all the world's armies.
Today, the Circuit Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia will hear Weston's challenge to the forcible administration of antipsychotic drugs to restore his competence to stand trial. Let's hope the insanity stops there.
