During 1988’s second Presidential Debate, CNN’s Bernard Shaw served up the most memorable moment of the campaign by getting up close and personal.  He asked Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis, a death penalty opponent, “If Kitty Dukakis [the candidate’s wife] were raped and murdered, would you favor an irrevocable death penalty for the killer?"

Several commentators at the time thought Bernard Shaw’s question was unfair, because it injected an irrelevant emotional element into the discussion of a policy issue.

Even though Dukakis’ has always displayed a reserved demeanor, many observers assailed the candidate because his answer lacked the emotion one might expect of a person asked about a loved one's violent death.

In the intervening years, Dukakis has been asked about his response to the question.   Although he criticized Shaw for asking him such a question, Dukakis has since acknowledged the emotionally tepid nature of his response. 

The death penalty became an issue during the campaign because of William “Willie” Horton, a convicted murderer who was released through a controversial Massachusetts weekend furlough program while Dukakis was governor. (In fact, the furlough program was signed into law by Republican Governor Francis Sargent in 1972.  And prison furlough programs had been long established in California during the governorship of Ronald Reagan.  But unlike the Massachusetts program, California never allowed furlough for convicted murderers sentenced to life in prison.)

Horton never came back. Instead, he went to Maryland, and ultimately committed assault, armed robbery and rape.

A political ad supporting George H.W. Bush evoked the Horton case because of Dukakis’ support of the program. Beginning on September 21, 1988, Americans for Bush, part of the rightwing National Security Political Action Committee (NSPAC), began running a campaign ad entitled "Weekend Passes," using the Horton case to attack Dukakis.

Republicans picked up the Horton issue after Dukakis clinched the nomination. In June 1988, George H.W. Bush seized on the Horton case, often evoking it in campaign speeches. Bush's campaign manager, Lee Atwater, accurately predicted that "by the time this election is over, Willie Horton will be a household name." One media consultant enthusiastic about using Horton in ads noted "the only question is whether we depict Willie Horton with a knife in his hand or without it."  (That spin doctor was Roger Ayles, currently Spinmeister-In-Chief of Fox News.)

If Shaw’s question to Dukakis was fair and reasonable, one might wonder how a candidate who opposes the death penalty should respond to such a question.

Today, he or she would evoke the execution of Troy Davis, the new windstorm fanning the flames of outrage against capital punishment.

Davis became an international cause célèbre because of numerous substantive questions about physical evidence and changes from a majority of the prosecution’s witnesses.

Evoking Davis in this context is easy to do. After all, noting the strong possibility that our justice system executed an innocent man can certainly pack a punch.

Using Davis’ execution as a tool in the fight against the death penalty itself also seems to be the right thing to do.

But is it? Evoking such a questionable and lawfully perverted capital case may not be the proper way to oppose the death penalty itself.

If the death penalty is unconditionally wrong, then - like it or not - it must be wrong for the most depraved, irredeemable and rightfully convicted murderer anyone can imagine.

Such a homicidal criminal emerged this summer in Cleveland.  Anthony Sowell was convicted on multiple counts of rape, torture and murder.

The prosecution had numerous credible witnesses. The physical evidence was substantive, abundant and unimpeachable. Sowell has been sentenced to death.

In this case, the judge had the option of reducing the sentence to life in prison without chance of parole. Instead, he accepted the jury’s recommendation that  Sowell be sentenced to death.

As if to vacuum up any speck of moral ambiguity, Judge Dick Ambrose imposed 11 death sentences.

The courtroom erupted in applause when it was announced that the Anthony Sowell jury had unanimously recommended the death penalty, and again when the judge announced the sentence.

In Cleveland, Ambrose is actually better known as a former standout linebacker for the Cleveland Browns.  His nickname during his football career was “Bam Bam.”

Many family members of Sowell's victims said they forgive him, even though they still pressed for the death penalty. One ended her testimony by joyously proclaiming “Dead man walking!” as if it was Sunday morning at church and she was shouting "Hallelujah!"

After the sentencing, prosecutor Bill Mason acknowledged that an appeal would be automatic, and that the entire process, from sentencing to injection, might take more than ten years.

Sowell’s is an ideal case to consider in the context of the death penalty because of the numerous victims, the savagery of his crimes, and the absence of even a hint of doubt that he committed the crimes.

When Bernard Shaw asked Dukakis that famous question, the candidate had to fight both sides in a wrestling match whose opponents were his moral opposition to the death penalty and the greatest possible challenge to that moral position… what one would likely feel towards someone who raped and murdered a loved one.

Dukakis had to answer Shaw’s question on the spot, and before the eyes of the world. Perhaps if he had a moment to ponder such an insane question, he might have explained that one of a justice system’s purposes is to replace the emotion that might have driven him to commit an act of revenge on his own.

The challenge is to create a system that dispenses justice, while simultaneously preventing injustice.  It sounds simple, until a society has to define what is and is not just in every specific circumstance. That challenge can only be met after a society’s lawmakers understand what is just.

In this regard, killing another person seems pretty clear-cut. It’s just wrong.

Always. 

It’s so unquestionably wrong that our legal system ranks the severity of just about every imaginable way to kill someone, from involuntary manslaughter to aggravated murder

Therefore, any moral and ethical arguments for granting the justice system a special dispensation - a license to kill - had better be as unimpeachable as the pure evil of executing a man for a crime he did not commit.