Gordon Grilz explores the complexities of being a murderer , including crimes of passion, the morality of the sixth commandment, and the gray areas of American justice.
When I first came to prison in 1981, I had the opportunity to hear a prison administrator give a talk to some prisoners. I never forgot what he said.
He told us that his two small children would be safer if he dropped them off in the yard of a maximum-security facility than if he dropped them off in the parking lot of a large shopping center. He explained that in the prison yard, as soon as some prisoners saw the children, they would go to them and protect them from other prisoners like pedophiles or psychotic/sociopathic individuals who might want to harm them. In the parking lot scenario, it would be easier for someone with bad intentions to kidnap them, as most people are too naïve to understand the inherent danger or too busy with their own lives to get involved.
The first group of prisoners who would protect the children would be murderers with life sentences —“lifers,” as they are known in prison. Now, all murderers are not the same. Some serial killers and psychopaths or sociopaths lack a moral conscience. But many others are normal people who got caught up in bad circumstances. In the 43 years I have been in prison, for example, I have known men who are in prison for what was essentially self-defense. They were attacked by someone with a weapon and managed to kill the aggressor first.
In some jurisdictions, the deceased becomes the victim, and the survivor is prosecuted and sent to prison. You might be wondering why prosecutors do this. The answer is that it gives them credit for solving a crime and punishing the offender, creating the appearance of justice, expanding the prison population, and reinforcing the need for stricter laws, more police, and bigger prison systems, thereby guaranteeing job security for everyone in the criminal justice system. Then there are crimes of passion, where, for example, someone kills their spouse and their lover. There are also auto accidents where a drunk driver kills other drivers or pedestrians.
There are different classifications and degrees of punishment for the crime of murder. In Arizona, first-degree or so-called premeditated murder is punishable by 25 years to life, natural life (life without parole), or the death penalty (capital punishment). Arizona law says that premeditation can occur as quickly as successive thoughts of the mind. Try putting a stopwatch on that. Then, there is second-degree murder, such as a killing committed in the heat of the moment or a fight. Manslaughter can be voluntary or involuntary. Penalties for murder range from a few years in prison to execution.
There is a profound question when it comes to the death penalty. The Sixth Commandment states, “Thou shalt not kill,” in Exodus 20:13 (KJV). This is straight from the Old Testament in the Holy Bible. American morals and laws are strongly based upon our Judeo-Christian heritage. But times are changing. Adultery and sodomy, for example, are now legal in Arizona and many other states.
Some people say that the real meaning of the Sixth Commandment is “Thou shalt not murder.” Then, they carve out so many exceptions that the commandment is left with little meaning. Modern exceptions include war, killing by police, capital punishment, abortion, and euthanasia. Things that used to be black or white in our society now have so many shades of grey that it’s hard to follow. So, according to some people, it’s not the act itself that’s forbidden, but rather doing it for the wrong reasons.
Consider all the mass shootings in schools, churches, concerts, stores, etc. Some religious leaders have said that America has become a “culture of death.” With all the exceptions to the Biblical prohibition, should we be surprised to see the proliferation of people deciding for themselves what is allowed and what isn’t?
When I first came to prison, the word “convict” had a positive connotation, at least to us. In those days, a convict was a stand-up prisoner who wasn’t a punk, snitch, thief, or liar. These were men who would stand up for what they believed was right and help others if they could. They would school new prisoners called “fish” and show them the ropes, like don’t get into debt and stay away from drugs, gambling, and homosexuality. One major back in the day said he had three rules in his yard: “No heroin, no homebrew, and no homosexuality.” These caused some of the biggest problems in prison.
Early in my sentence, while in the maximum-security Central Unit in Florence, Arizona, “the walls,” I was returning to my cell block from the chow hall one day. I spotted an old lifer hunkered down against the wall, enjoying the sun and watching people pass by. I crouched down beside him and didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at me or say anything. Then, after a few minutes, without looking at me, he said, “You know, if you keep your eyes open long enough and keep your mouth shut, you just might learn something.”
In prison jargon, someone who is a murderer is said to have “bodies” on them. So because I am a double murderer, I have two bodies on me. This may go back to the Romans when some murderers allegedly had their victims’ bodies strapped to their backs and had to carry them around until they rotted away. In that process, the decay often contaminated the murderer, causing their death as well.
To many people, all murderers are the same. But the truth is that they are as varied as their reasons for taking the life of another. There is a continuum. Some good people who have made terrible mistakes are on one end of that continuum. My best friends in prison have been murderers. Many of us live by a code, like soldiers or biker gang members.
I, for one, am grateful that murder is not an unforgivable sin against God. I have come to the realization that my offense was not just against my victims but against the God who created them (and all of us) in His image. Since God is the only giver of life, perhaps He alone is the only one who should take it.
One Comment
Thank you for your story.