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Reversible Errors
by Scott Turow
Reviewed by Betsy Ross
What happens when a confessed killer turns out to be innocent? Though I have just given
away the ending, the title itself probably already did that anyway. And in any event, the outcome of Reversible Errors is less important than the process, replete with philosophical discussions of the differing points of view involved in death penalty cases. His newest book is the platform for Scott Turow to discuss his views on capital punishment. I thought it timely to look at this issue again given recent events questioning application of the death penalty to minors and the mentally incapacitated, not to mention the persistent drumbeat of victims' rights.
Rommy Gandolph is on death row, having confessed to a triple murder. Arthur, a partner in a prominent law firm is assigned to represent him to ensure that "after ten years of
litigation, no sound arguments remained" to save him. Thus begins the trek into capital punishment country, complete with all the usual suspects: the self-interested prosecutor,
running for political office; the angry, vindictive son of one of the victims (I'm not sure if in victims' rights parlance he is also called a "victim"); the
"black-and-white" cop who happens also to be in love with the prosecutor (no conflict of interest here-but wait, there's an even better one); and the aforementioned Arthur, the
honest, if naive defense attorney (by inclination if not by actual trade), who himself falls in love with the judge who originally tried Rommy (without a jury).
Though this sounds
like a set-up for superficiality, Turow achieves a well-rounded discourse, presenting the differing points of view of each of these character-types within the framework of an entertaining
story. The greatest revelation is not whether Rommy is actually innocent or not, but the acknowledgment that truth can only be discovered by answering the question, "whose
truth?"
The truth for the victim's son is that his father is dead, and he wants an object for his vengeance. He "assumed that when the right person died, the one who
deserved to be removed from the planet, when that occurred, [his] lost loved one would come back to life. That was the pathetic logic of revenge, learned in the playpen, and of the
sacrificial altar, where we attempted to trade life for life."
The truth for the cop is that he got a confession from the murderer and indeed is unable to see that he coerced
that confession from him. When the prosecutor suggests that "even our best work and best judgment isn't always perfect. . . . I mean, it's possible [that we're wrong]," the cop
can only respond "It's not possible."
The truth for the prosecutor is that she has a public to appease, and a professional goal of her own. And ultimately, the truth for
Rommy is that the system failed him. He spent 10 years in jail, on death row, for a crime we come to be convinced, he did not commit.
The law does not always reveal truth, in part,
because of the subjective nature of truth, a point Turow makes well with his characters. And a point entirely at odds with the death penalty. Thus, Turow's chance to speak out. And he
does in this story, presenting a tale in which the flaws in the system are exposed. It is a tale Turow learned from life. Turow spent the past ten years doing death penalty litigation on
a pro bono basis, and also spent two years as a member of a 14-person Illinois commission exploring the death penalty. The result of his time on that commission is his opposition to
capital punishment. That opposition is based on what he claims is the faulty logic of the penalty: it is not, from his experience and the commission's 2-year study, the deterrent it is
intended and believed to be. And furthermore, because it is not applied evenhandedly, it is at once illogical and discriminatory. So what does the death penalty provide? The finality and retribution desired by some - though not all. Turow has his prosecutor speak to this important issue:
"She'd seen three executions now, as a supervisor. At the first, the father of the victim, a mother of two who'd been shot down at a Stop-N-Go gas mart, came away embittered,
angry that what had been held out as a balm had only made him feel worse. But the two later families claimed that they'd gotten something from it - an end point, a sense of an awful
equilibrium being restored to the world, the peace of mind that at least no one else would suffer again from this dead bastard as they had. But hurting as she did at the moment, she could
not really remember why inflicting more harm would make life on earth better for anyone."
Amen.
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