Thursday, September 03, 2009

Dear Ms. Adkins:

Please try and understand. We simply must deny your request for compassionate release, although we realize you are suffering from a terminal illness.

You held Sharon Tate and her unborn child down and stabbed them both to death. You effectively made Sharon Tate terminally wounded. And you laughed about it. When you make someone else terminal, with no end-of-life care, other than stab wound after stab wound, when you stab her stomach where her unborn child is dying, when you drink her blood and wipe it on your face, as if you're a bullfighter whose made her first kill, then you must face the end of your life in an institution of our choosing. We are society, and we must protect ourselves, not only from you, but from anyone who watches you and thinks that their life mirrors yours. It was a long time ago, we realize. But Sharon Tate and her son remain dead today. Soon, you will know what that feels like, although I dare say, we will do everything in our power to make your death more peaceful and less painful.

We will see to it that you have round-the-clock medical care, hospice services, comfort care, including any pain medication you might need to see you through. Your care will be paid for by us, we will minister to your needs, tend to your requirements. We will see to it that no one stabs you, or drinks your blood. We will make sure that, if you plead for mercy, to be spared the agony of your wretched circumstance, that every consideration for your comfort and peaceful end will be met to the best of our abilities. When we, the People of the State of California, incarcerated you, that was our part of the deal.

But you may not leave. You may live until you are no longer living. But you simply may not leave. It is the one thing we cannot permit. Permanent, unrelenting, unabated imprisonment. This was your part of the deal, when you accepted the commutation of your sentence from death to life in prison. And you simply must fulfill it. The "life" part, I mean. Given the viciousness of the crimes you committed in your youth, "life" must mean "life," in your case and in the cases of your co-defendants.

I would hope that, all these years later, you would know why this is the case. But if you do not, I feel deeply sorry for you.

May your passing be as painless and peaceful as humanly possible, and that the end of this life be the passage to a better, more abundant and fruitful one to come. And may you learn between now and the time of your passing all of the lessons this life has left to teach you, so you do not have to continue them into the next. A fresh start. A new, enlightened beginning. This intention is the most precious gift I have to offer you.

Peace, Ms. Adkins.


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