There is only one true justice for cold-blooded killers: death

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

They come and they go - the murdered and the murderers. They fill the front page for a day or two. They lead the nightly news. And then they disappear.

The next day brings different faces, but the same story, the same tragedies.

You think, at the time, I will remember this one. I will remember Kimberly Ray Harbor and Charles Serjeant and Melissa Benoit and Robyn Dabrowski for the rest of my life.

And you do remember, for a while. But then one day you think: What was the name of the young woman found dead at the Hadley Mall a few Christmases ago? And how about that family, the pregnant mother and her two children, found murdered maybe five years ago in their western Massachusetts home? What were their names?

You think you won't forget, but you do, because the killings continue, like some macabre slide show, one after the other. And the mind can't hold it all - or refuses.

Everyone, right now, knows who Tommy Rose is, but in a few years even he will be forgotten. He will be, "You know, that cop who got shot. What was his name?"

Remember Thomas Waugh? I didn't. He was the 27-year-old electrical engineer who was visiting Boston last March when he was shot and killed at the Government Center T station while waiting for a train.

An innocent bystander killed less than a year ago, but I didn't remember his name.

This says something horrifying about the life we live, about the life we have chosen to accept. It says that murder is commonplace and that the murdered are quickly forgotten.

How did we get to this point of insensibility? Why are we so complacent? Is it lack of empathy or our perceived lack of power that keeps us from demanding justice and an end to violent crime?

The Boston Police deserve credit for the fact that Terrell Muhammad is still alive. He could have been shot while attempting an escape. He tried once, why not again?

That the police, who are constantly accused of excessive brutality, honored this killer's rights, seems to me amazing. Here he is, in jail, a man who has already served time for one killing, and he guns down a police officer in front of other police.

And he remains untouched and unharmed, protected by laws that we have made.

In Florida last month, a Weymouth man, Michael Edge, was so angry with the law that he actually attacked his sister's murderer in a courtroom. Arthur Boyne, 52, a former Weymouth and Hull resident, had pleaded guilty to stabbing Edge's sister, Regina Burns, six times in the chest in her Daytona Beach apartment in front of her 13-year-old son. For this, he was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole for 25 years.

But . . .

Because he helped convict some other inmates, Boyne got some special treatment. He has been given a new identity and will serve his time outside Florida.

"That crumb is given a new name," the victim's father said. "He should've gotten the chair. I don't have my Gina, and he gets a lousy 25 years and we, the taxpayers, have to pay for it."

Maybe you have to have a daughter killed or a son, or husband or sister or a fellow police officer before you rage and scream for justice. Maybe you have to go to a morgue first and identify the body of someone you love.

Or maybe it doesn't take a physical death, just a death of the spirit. Consider the case of Edwin Katte, 50, of Quincy. He baby-sat for two brothers from the time they were 5 and 6 years old until they were 10 and 11. In 1988, he was accused of raping the boys repeatedly over these years. He pleaded guilty and was sentenced to two 25-year prison terms.

But 18 months ago, Katte was released on parole. If you knew the boys, if you loved them, if you saw what they went through and how they suffered; or if you were raped, too, by someone like Katte, you might be a little upset by this.

You might think justice is a joke. You might even follow Katte in your truck and run him down as he crossed a street, and shout as he hit the ground, "I finally got you, sucker."

That's what someone did. "I'm scared," Katte said from his hospital room.

No doubt the boys were scared, too, every time Katte came to watch them.

When the law no longer protects people, people begin to protect themselves. That's what's happening. The bad guys are free and the good guys are living behind bars. And some are getting tired of it.

Some want justice, not just in word, but in deed. Even in court 25 years should mean 25 years. Life behind bars should mean life behind bars.

And for those who kill in cold blood, the only true justice is death.