Despair

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 175 of 267 · 20 per page

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Additional priests, deputed to preach, and to act as confessors, are likewise called for, on account of the great multitude of souls often committed to the care of one pastor. For, were some parish priests to devote their whole lives to the task, they would scarcely be able to hear the confessions of all their flock. It happens likewise that some of the faithful, having no opportunity of confessing to any save to their parish priest, will abstain altogether from confession. For they are ashamed to acknowledge their sins to those whom they see every day. Sometimes, again, they fancy that the priest is unfriendly to them, and the like. Hence bishops act very judiciously in providing them with other confessors, and thus preserving them from despair, 5. The foregoing reflections naturally lead us to consider the expediency of a religious order being instituted for the express purpose of assisting parish priests in preaching and hearing confessions. Episcopal permission would, of course, be needed to authorise the brethren of such an order to undertake their duties. Every religious order is based on the model of the Apostolic life. We are told that the Apostles practised community of life: “all things were common to them “ (Acts iv). The Gloss says that “the word ‘common’ is, in Greek, rendered by caena, or common meal, whence come the words cenobites, i.e. dwellers in common, and cenobia, i.e. common dwelling places.” The Apostles practised this mode of life, in order that leaving all things, they might be at liberty to preach the Gospel throughout the world. For the same reason, they prescribed this common life to their successors. Hence a religious order is peculiarly well adapted to the office of preaching. St. James says, “Religion pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the orphan and the widow in their tribulation.” The most necessary form of visiting those in affliction, is that which is practised by such as labour for the salvation of souls. A religious order may then with great advantage, be instituted with this object in view that its members may seek out such as are in trouble, and encourage them to have patience, and to hope in, the promises of Scripture. In the interlinear commentary we find, on the words, “It is not fit that we should leave the word of God and serve tables (Acts vi. 2), the following observation: “Food for the soul is better than banquets for the body.” Now certain orders have already been instituted for the purpose of assisting men in their corporeal needs; it is still more fitting that another order should be established, to minister to their spiritual wants.” St, Augustine says: “It is better to nourish the soul that will live for ever with the Lord, than the body which must decay in death. The health of the body depends upon the condition of the soul; but the soul’s health does not depend upon bodily constitution.”

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  PUNISHMENT OF THE DAMNED PRIOR TO THE RESURRECTIONThis discussion makes it clear that both happiness and wretchedness are experienced chiefly in the soul. They affect the body secondarily and by a certain derivation. Hence the happiness or misery of the soul will not depend on the well-being or suffering of the body; rather, the reverse is true. Souls remain in existence after death and prior to the resumption of the body, some adorned with the merit of beatitude, others disfigured by deserved wretchedness. Therefore we can see that even before the resurrection the souls of some men enjoy the happiness of heaven, as the Apostle indicates in 2 Corinthians 5:1: “For we know, if our earthly house of this habitation is dissolved, that we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in heaven.” A little below, in verse 8, he adds: “But we are confident and have a good will to be absent rather from the body and to be present with the Lord.” But the souls of some will live in torment, as is intimated in Luke 16:22: “The rich man also died, and he was buried in hell.” CHAPTER 179 SPIRITUAL AND CORPORAL PUNISHMENT OF THE DAMNEDWe should realize that the happiness enjoyed by the souls of the saints will consist exclusively in spiritual goods. On the other hand, the punishment inflicted on the souls of the damned, even before the resurrection, will not consist solely in spiritual evils, as some have thought; lost souls will also undergo corporal punishment. The reason for this difference is as follows. When the souls of the saints were united to their bodies here in this world, they observed right order, not subjecting themselves to material things but serving God alone. And so their whole happiness consists in the enjoyment of Him, not in any material goods. But the souls of the wicked, in violation of the order of nature, set their affections on material things, scorning divine and spiritual goods. In consequence, they are punished not only by being deprived of spiritual goods, but by being subjected to the tyranny of material things. Accordingly, if Sacred Scripture is found to promise a reward of material goods to the souls of the saints, such passages are to be interpreted in a mystical sense; for spiritual things are often described in Scripture in terms of their likeness to material things. But texts that portend the corporal punishments of the souls of the damned, specifying that they will be tormented by the fires of hell, are to be understood literally. CHAPTER 180

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  " Since heaven and earth are against us," said he to Pauline when they met, " and we are not only forbid- den to marry, but even to see each other, the marquis and marchioness, our master and mistress, who exact such a cruel kind of obedience of us, may boast of hav- ing with one word smitten two hearts, whose bodies can henceforth only languish to death. By so unfeeling a mandate they plainly show that they have never known love or pity. I know well that their purpose is to see us both prosperously established in wealthy marriages ; but they know not that people are truly rich only when they are content. However, they have so wronged and in- censed me that it is impossible I should remain in their service. I have no doubt that if I had never talked of marrying you, they would not have carried their scruples so far as to forbid our speaking to each other ; but as for me, I can assure you that, having long loved you so hon- estly and truly, I shall continue to love you all my life. And forasmuch as seeing you I could not endure the monstrous hardship of not being allowed to speak to you, and not seeing you, my heart, which could not remain void, would be filled with a despair which might end fatally for me, I have for a long time resolved to retreat into the cloister. Not but that I well know one may Secofid ifay.] QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 1 79 work out his salvation in any condition of life ; but [ believe that in these retreats one has more leisure to meditate on the greatness of the Divine goodness, which will have pity, I trust, on the faults of my youth, and dis- pose my heart to love the things of heaven as much as I have loved those of earth. If God gives me the grace to be able to obtain his, my continual occupation will be to pray for you. I entreat you, by the faithful and constant love we have borne to one another, to remember me in your prayers, and to beseech the Lord to give me as much constancy, when I cease to see you, as He gave me gladness in beholding you. As I have hoped all my life to have from you through marriage what honour and conscience allow, and have contented myself with that hope, now that I lose it, and can never be treated by you as a husband, I entreat that, in bidding me farewell, you will treat me as a brother, and let me kiss you."

• From Simply Jesus (2011)

  But Simon did none of these things. Instead, as the Romans destroyed the Temple and defeat became inevitable, he surrendered in spectacular fashion. He dressed himself in white, with a purple cloak on top, and emerged from hiding all of a sudden on the Temple Mount. Whether he was hoping to frighten people and make his escape or whether he was just putting on a final show of bravado, we cannot tell. He was taken in chains to Titus, the victorious general, and then shipped off to Rome along with thousands of other captives and boatloads of booty, which you can still see in carved pictures on the Arch of Titus, at the top of the Forum in Rome. According to the Roman custom, Titus was given a “triumph,” a spectacular procession through the streets of Rome, demonstrating to the citizens (in the days before television and photography could prove it by other methods) how great a victory he had won. The prisoners were led behind him, a bedraggled and sorry crew; and last of all came Simon. He was whipped as he walked along, until he arrived at the prison where the death sentence was carried out. Once again, the gale overcame the high-pressure system. Titus, and all Rome with him, celebrated this victory over the “king of the Jews.” Once again, the Jewish people, crushed and dismayed, wondered what had happened to the divine hurricane that was supposed to come to their aid. It takes little imagination to see that Jesus of Nazareth, nailed to a Roman cross with the words “king of the Jews” over his head, must have been seen by many in exactly the same way as Simon bar-Giora. Here is a would-be rebel king, and this is what the Romans always do to such people. Subsequent Jewish tradition came to regard Jesus too as a liar who had deceived God’s people, leading them astray with false hopes. Between Two Moments This detour into the history of would-be royal movements in the centuries on either side of Jesus is designed to make two points that will, I hope, clarify various things about his public career. First, there was a well-recognized set of expectations for a “king of the Jews,” with roots extending all the way back to the Exodus. The recitation of expectations has become almost monotonous with repetition; victory over the pagans and cleansing or rebuilding the Temple were high on the list. Second, it was to be expected that any such campaign would have (at least) two key “moments”: first, the time when the flag was raised, the initial proclamation was made, and the movement was launched, and then the moment when the final battle was won and the Temple rebuilt. Such movements would expect to live between these two moments, between an initial announcement and a final victory.

• From Another Country (1962)

  And it was. On me.” She rose, and poured herself a fresh drink. “Then he took me to that place he has, way over on the East River. I kept wondering what I was going to do. I didn’t know what to do. I watched his face in the taxicab. He put his hand on my leg. And he tried to take my hand. But I couldn’t move. I kept thinking of what that black man had said to me, and his face when he said it, and I kept thinking of Rufus, and I kept thinking of you. It was like a merry-go- round, all these faces just kept going around in my mind. And a song kept going around in my head, Oh, Lord, is it I? And there he sat, next to me, puffing on his cigar. The funny thing was that I knew if I really started crying or pleading, he’d take me home. He can’t stand scenes. But I couldn’t even do that. And God knows I wanted to get home, I hoped you wouldn’t be here, so I could just crawl under the sheets and die. And, that way, when you came home, I could tell you everything before you came to bed, and—maybe—but, no, we were going to his place and I felt that I deserved it. I felt that I couldn’t fall much lower, I might as well go all the way and get it over with. And then we’d see, if there was anything left of me after that, we’d see.” She threw down about two fingers of whiskey and immediately poured herself another drink. “There’s always further to fall, always, always.” She moved from the table, holding her glass, and leaned against the icebox door. “And I did everything he wanted, I let him have his way. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.” She gestured aimlessly with her glass, tried to drink from it, dropped it, and suddenly fell on her knees beside the table, her hands against her belly, weeping. Stupidly, he picked up the glass, afraid that she would cut herself. She was kneeling in the spilt whiskey, which had stained the edges of her skirt. He dropped the broken glass in the brown paper bag they used for garbage.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Objection 2: Further, a greater evil is opposed to a greater good, as the Philosopher states (Ethic. viii, 10). But charity is greater than hope, according to 1 Cor. 13:13. Therefore hatred of God is a greater sin than despair. Objection 3: Further, in the sin of despair there is nothing but inordinate aversion from God: whereas in other sins there is not only inordinate aversion from God, but also an inordinate conversion. Therefore the sin of despair is not more but less grave than other sins. On the contrary, An incurable sin seems to be most grievous, according to Jer. 30:12: “Thy bruise is incurable, thy wound is very grievous.” Now the sin of despair is incurable, according to Jer. 15:18: “My wound is desperate so as to refuse to be healed.” [*Vulg.: ‘Why is my wound,’ etc.] Therefore despair is a most grievous sin. I answer that, Those sins which are contrary to the theological virtues are in themselves more grievous than others: because, since the theological virtues have God for their object, the sins which are opposed to them imply aversion from God directly and principally. Now every mortal sin takes its principal malice and gravity from the fact of its turning away from God, for if it were possible to turn to a mutable good, even inordinately, without turning away from God, it would not be a mortal sin. Consequently a sin which, first and of its very nature, includes aversion from God, is most grievous among mortal sins. Now unbelief, despair and hatred of God are opposed to the theological virtues: and among them, if we compare hatred of God and unbelief to despair, we shall find that, in themselves, that is, in respect of their proper species, they are more grievous. For unbelief is due to a man not believing God’s own truth; while the hatred of God arises from man’s will being opposed to God’s goodness itself; whereas despair consists in a man ceasing to hope for a share of God’s goodness. Hence it is clear that unbelief and hatred of God are against God as He is in Himself, while despair is against Him, according as His good is partaken of by us. Wherefore strictly speaking it is more grievous sin to disbelieve God’s truth, or to hate God, than not to hope to receive glory from Him.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that, As stated above ([2417]AA[1],3), detestation of the Divine goodness is a necessary condition of blasphemy. Now those who are in hell retain their wicked will which is turned away from God’s justice, since they love the things for which they are punished, would wish to use them if they could, and hate the punishments inflicted on them for those same sins. They regret indeed the sins which they have committed, not because they hate them, but because they are punished for them. Accordingly this detestation of the Divine justice is, in them, the interior blasphemy of the heart: and it is credible that after the resurrection they will blaspheme God with the tongue, even as the saints will praise Him with their voices. Reply to Objection 1: In the present life men are deterred from blasphemy through fear of punishment which they think they can escape: whereas, in hell, the damned have no hope of escape, so that, in despair, they are borne towards whatever their wicked will suggests to them. Reply to Objection 2: Merit and demerit belong to the state of a wayfarer, wherefore good is meritorious in them, while evil is demeritorious. In the blessed, on the other hand, good is not meritorious, but is part of their blissful reward, and, in like manner, in the damned, evil is not demeritorious, but is part of the punishment of damnation. Reply to Objection 3: Whoever dies in mortal sin, bears with him a will that detests the Divine justice with regard to a certain thing, and in this respect there can be blasphemy in him. OF BLASPHEMY AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST (FOUR ARTICLES)We must now consider in particular blasphemy against the Holy Ghost: under which head there are four points of inquiry: (1) Whether blasphemy or the sin against the Holy Ghost is the same as the sin committed through certain malice? (2) Of the species of this sin; (3) Whether it can be forgiven? (4) Whether it is possible to begin by sinning against the Holy Ghost before committing other sins? Whether the sin against the Holy Ghost is the same as the sin committed through certain malice?Objection 1: It would seem that the sin against the Holy Ghost is not the same as the sin committed through certain malice. Because the sin against the Holy Ghost is the sin of blasphemy, according to Mat. 12:32. But not every sin committed through certain malice is a sin of blasphemy: since many other kinds of sin may be committed through certain malice. Therefore the sin against the Holy Ghost is not the same as the sin committed through certain malice.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Reply to Objection 3: The damned are outside the pale of hope on account of the impossibility of returning to happiness: hence it is not imputed to them that they hope not, but it is a part of their damnation. Even so, it would be no sin for a wayfarer to despair of obtaining that which he had no natural capacity for obtaining, or which was not due to be obtained by him; for instance, if a physician were to despair of healing some sick man, or if anyone were to despair of ever becoming rich. Whether there can be despair without unbelief?Objection 1: It would seem that there can be no despair without unbelief. For the certainty of hope is derived from faith; and so long as the cause remains the effect is not done away. Therefore a man cannot lose the certainty of hope, by despairing, unless his faith be removed. Objection 2: Further, to prefer one’s own guilt to God’s mercy and goodness, is to deny the infinity of God’s goodness and mercy, and so savors of unbelief. But whoever despairs, prefers his own guilt to the Divine mercy and goodness, according to Gn. 4:13: “My iniquity is greater than that I may deserve pardon.” Therefore whoever despairs, is an unbeliever. Objection 3: Further, whoever falls into a condemned heresy, is an unbeliever. But he that despairs seems to fall into a condemned heresy, viz. that of the Novatians, who say that there is no pardon for sins after Baptism. Therefore it seems that whoever despairs, is an unbeliever. On the contrary, If we remove that which follows, that which precedes remains. But hope follows faith, as stated above ([2485]Q[17], A[7]). Therefore when hope is removed, faith can remain; so that, not everyone who despairs, is an unbeliever.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Habits are more permanent, and so men persevere more obstinately in seeking goods to which habit impels them. Yet, so long as habit is capable of change, man’s desire and his judgment as to what constitutes the last end are subject to change. This possibility is open to men only during the present life, in which their state is changeable. After this life the soul is not subject to alteration. No change can affect it except indirectly, in consequence of some change undergone by the body. However, when the body is resumed, the soul will not be governed by changes occurring in the body.”“ Rather, the contrary will take place. During our present life the soul is infused into a body that has been generated of seed, and therefore, as we should expect, is affected by changes experienced in the body. But in the next world the body will be united to a pre-existing soul, and so will be completely governed by the latter’s conditions. Accordingly the soul will remain perpetually in whatever last end it is found to have set for itself at the time of death, desiring that state as the most suitable, whether it is good or evil. This is the meaning of Ecclesiastes 11:3: “If the tree fall to the south or to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be.” After this life, therefore, those who are found good at the instant of death will have their wills forever fixed in good. But those who are found evil at that moment will be forever obstinate in evil. CHAPTER 175 FORGIVENESS OF SIN IN THE NEXT WORLDThis enables us to perceive that mortal sins are not forgiven in the next world. But venial sins are forgiven. Mortal sins are committed by turning away from our last end, in which man is irrevocably settled after death, as we have just said. Venial sins, however, do not regard our last end, but rather the road leading to that end. If the will of evil men is obstinately fettered to evil after death, they forever continue to desire what they previously desired, in the conviction that this is the best. Therefore they are not sorry they have sinned; for no one is sorry he has achieved what he judges to be the best.

• From Four Days to Glory: Wrestling with the Soul of the American Heartland (2005)

  The final score is a serviceable but unimpressive 8–2, and coming in the second round it does nothing to suggest that Jay is ready to dominate his way through the rest of the week. The stuff inside Jay’s chest is glowing all sorts of colors as it leaves his body. All in all, it could be the worst time ever to be answering questions about reaching for wrestling immortality, which Jay nevertheless is asked to do as he meets with a pack of reporters after defeating Kramer. “You suck, Borschel, you fag!” one of the Prairie students shouts from the thick of a crowd, behind the retaining ropes. Jay doesn’t even have the energy to look back. “I need to go sit down,” he says, and his eyes glance out across the arena and up into the stands, where his family is seated. It feels a long way off. What Jay would like to do is crawl up someplace and pass out for a week. Says Jim, a few moments later, “It’ll have to wait.” The Friday of State is moving day—moving up, or moving out. For the North-Linn kids, it is a day in which everything feels tantalizingly close and the emotion runs near the surface: Win both matches today and a wrestler suddenly has reached the finals, the biggest stage of the year. Lose either one, though, and it is a long, slow journey to the consolation bracket, from which the highest possible finish is third place. And early in the day, Ryan Mulnix begins that journey, dropping a tough 7–5 quarterfinal decision to a boy from Ogden who manages to hold Ryan scoreless for the entire third period. Ryan wrestles well; he’s just slightly overmatched. This isn’t the conference tournament anymore. Still, there are greatly encouraging signs. Ben Fisher trails 4–3 in the third period, but he manages an escape and then gets a takedown for the lead, and holds on for the 6–4 victory that gets him through the morning. Rather incredibly, considering what has happened the last few weekends, that’s Ben in the state semifinals. And Dan will be there, of course, and his brother, too. Dan wrestles a senior from Don Bosco, perhaps the most revered program currently in the state. Dan is ready for him. He scores his first takedown 18 seconds into the match and keeps attacking for three periods. He is relentless and looks fresh, and the Don Bosco wrestler, who had only returned from injury fairly recently, just can’t hang. It’s a 14–3 major decision for Dan, to go along with the 8–0 shutout that Nick posts right after that at 145 pounds. So Dan and Nick are there in the semis, and Ben; and in the loser’s bracket, Tyler Burkle already is beginning his comeback with a solid victory. For the most part, it’s setting up pretty nicely. Of course, it’s early.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  The lady, to whom honour had always been most precious, was so horror-stricken, that, forgetting all hu- manity and the natural gentleness of her sex, she en treated her husband on her knees to revenge her for such a cruel outrage ; whereupon he mounted his horse, and rode off in pursuit of the Cordelier. The wife, left alone in her bed, without anyone to counsel her, and without any consolation except her new-born babe, pon- dered over the hideous adventure which had befallen her, and making no account of her ignorance, regarded her- self as guilty, and as the most miserable woman in the world. And then, having never learned anything from the Cordelier but confidence in good works, satisfaction for sins by austerity of life, fasting, and discipline, and being wholly ignorant of the grace given by our good God through the merits of his Son, the remission of sins through his blood, the reconciliation of the Father with us through his death, and the life given to sinners by his sole goodness and mercy, she was so bewildered between her horror at the enormity of the deed and her love for her husband and the honour of her line, that she thought death far happier than such a life as hers. Thus, ren- dered desperate by her grief, she lost not only the hope which every Christian ought to have in God, but com- mon sense too, and the recollection of her own nature. 234 ^-^^ HEPTAMERON OF THE {Nmel 23. Not knowing, then, either God or herself, but, on the contrary, full of rage and madness, she undid one of the cords of her bed, and strangled herself with her own hands. In the agony of that painful death, amidst the last violent efforts of nature, the unfortunate woman pressed her foot upon her infant's face, and its innocence could not secure it from a death as piteous as its mother's.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that, According to the Philosopher (Ethic. vi, 2) affirmation and negation in the intellect correspond to search and avoidance in the appetite; while truth and falsehood in the intellect correspond to good and evil in the appetite. Consequently every appetitive movement which is conformed to a true intellect, is good in itself, while every appetitive movement which is conformed to a false intellect is evil in itself and sinful. Now the true opinion of the intellect about God is that from Him comes salvation to mankind, and pardon to sinners, according to Ezech. 18:23, “I desire not the death of the sinner, but that he should be converted, and live” [*Vulg.: ‘Is it My will that a sinner should die . . . and not that he should be converted and live?’ Cf. Ezech. 33:11]: while it is a false opinion that He refuses pardon to the repentant sinner, or that He does not turn sinners to Himself by sanctifying grace. Therefore, just as the movement of hope, which is in conformity with the true opinion, is praiseworthy and virtuous, so the contrary movement of despair, which is in conformity with the false opinion about God, is vicious and sinful. Reply to Objection 1: In every mortal sin there is, in some way, aversion from the immutable good, and conversion to a mutable good, but not always in the same way. Because, since the theological virtues have God for their object, the sins which are contrary to them, such as hatred of God, despair and unbelief, consist principally in aversion from the immutable good; but, consequently, they imply conversion to a mutable good, in so far as the soul that is a deserter from God, must necessarily turn to other things. Other sins, however, consist principally in conversion to a mutable good, and, consequently, in aversion from the immutable good: because the fornicator intends, not to depart from God, but to enjoy carnal pleasure, the result of which is that he departs from God. Reply to Objection 2: A thing may grow from a virtuous root in two ways: first, directly and on the part of the virtue itself; even as an act proceeds from a habit: and in this way no sin can grow from a virtuous root, for in this sense Augustine declared (De Lib. Arb. ii, 18,19) that “no man makes evil use of virtue.” Secondly, a thing proceeds from a virtue indirectly, or is occasioned by a virtue, and in this way nothing hinders a sin proceeding from a virtue: thus sometimes men pride themselves of their virtues, according to Augustine (Ep. ccxi): “Pride lies in wait for good works that they may die.” In this way fear of God or horror of one’s own sins may lead to despair, in so far as man makes evil use of those good things, by allowing them to be an occasion of despair.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  I saw him becoming more and more my slave and my toy, in a barely conscious abasement which excited me even as it pulled me down. The Corry featured in these days as a lucid interlude—with an institutional structure that time in the flat entirely lacked. I tended to stay late or go to a bar afterwards, not for sex, but for the company of strangers and for talk about sport or music. Walking back up the drive and feeling for my keys I even felt reluctance to plunge back into my private life, its unsterilised warmth in which sensation seemed both heightened and degraded. Yet going to the bathroom to hang up my wet towel and swimming trunks, I could be touched unexpectedly by the sight of Arthur’s few possessions, and his muddied cords, stiff where they had dried, tangled up with my silk shirt on the airing-cupboard floor, had me sighing and wincing at their pathos—even if, the next morning, I wished I had never seen them and that I had myself to myself. Perhaps we should have burnt them: the empty, crumpled tubes of his trousers, the blood-stained pink of the shirt, were evidence of a kind. We were such inexpert criminals. At the Corry, too, I could more easily examine the question, which we barely asked each other, and certainly never answered, of what we were going to do. The present impasse was unbearable, its resolution unimaginable. I insisted on Arthur telling me what had happened and why, but though we went through it several times a strange opacity came over him, the facts seemed not to tie up. I determined that his brother, like Arthur, had no work, and had got his girlfriend pregnant, that their father found out Arthur was gay, that there had been fights, that the brother, Harold, had a friend who was a drug-dealer, who had been inside more than once, and who had got Harold involved in the business, that the friend had stolen money Arthur was saving in his mattress in the room the brothers still had to share, that he had denied it, that there had been a fight, and that it had gone desperately wrong, that Harold, uncertain who to side with, had drawn a knife, Arthur had been wounded but had grabbed the weapon and, in one sudden, unintended, irrevocable moment, had slashed the friend’s throat—all this on a late rainy afternoon in a ruinous house in the East End, bombed out in the Blitz and still standing. This last detail, as if to give verisimilitude to an otherwise incoherent narrative, had been something he had learned at school.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  Joe’s record of mostly misdemeanor-level juvenile incidents—nearly all of which were nonviolent and which did not merit more than a single court adjudication in a two-year period—was viewed differently by the sentencing judge, who concluded that “the juvenile system has been utterly incapable of doing anything with Mr. Sullivan.” The court concluded that Joe had been “given opportunity after opportunity to upright himself and take advantage of the second and third chances he’s been given.” In truth, Joe was never given a second, much less a third, chance to “upright himself,” but he was nonetheless characterized at age thirteen as a “serial” or “violent recidivist” by prosecutors. The judge sentenced him to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. — Despite numerous potentially meritorious grounds for appeal, Joe’s appointed appellate counsel filed an Anders brief—indicating his belief that there were no legitimate grounds for appeal and no credible basis to complain about the conviction or sentence—and was permitted to withdraw from representing Joe. Joe, just one year into his own adolescence, was sent to adult prison, where an eighteen-year nightmare began. In prison, he was repeatedly raped and sexually assaulted. He attempted suicide on multiple occasions. He developed multiple sclerosis, which eventually forced him into a wheelchair. Doctors later concluded that his neurological disorder might have been triggered by trauma in prison. — Another inmate housed with Joe wrote to us and described him as disabled, horribly mistreated, and wrongfully condemned to die in prison for a non-homicide crime at thirteen. In 2007, we wrote to Joe and discovered that he had no legal assistance and had spent the previous eighteen years in prison with no one to help him challenge his conviction or sentence. When I received Joe’s response to my letter, a scribbled note in the handwriting of a child, he could still only read at a third-grade level, despite the fact that he was thirty-one. He told me in his letter that he was “okay.” Then he wrote, “If I didn’t do anything, shouldn’t I be able to go home now? Mr. Bryan, if this is true, can you please write me back and come get me?” I wrote to Joe that we would look deeper into his case and that we were convinced that he had a credible claim of innocence. We attempted to prove his innocence through a motion for DNA testing, but because the state had destroyed the relevant biological evidence, the motion was denied. Disheartened, we decided to challenge Joe’s death-in-prison sentence as unconstitutionally cruel and unusual punishment.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  I was in my late twenties and about to start my fourth year at the SPDC when I met Walter McMillian. His case was one of the flood of cases I’d found myself frantically working on after learning of a growing crisis in Alabama. The state had nearly a hundred people on death row as well as the fastest-growing condemned population in the country, but it also had no public defender system, which meant that large numbers of death row prisoners had no legal representation of any kind. My friend Eva Ansley ran an Alabama prison project, which tracked cases and matched lawyers with the condemned men. In 1988, we discovered an opportunity to get federal funding to create a legal center that could represent people on death row. The plan was to use that funding to start a new nonprofit. We hoped to open it in Tuscaloosa and begin working on cases in the next year. I’d already worked on lots of death penalty cases in several Southern states, sometimes winning a stay of execution just minutes before an electrocution was scheduled. But I didn’t think I was ready to take on the responsibilities of running a nonprofit law office. I planned to help get the organization off the ground, find a director, and then return to Atlanta. When I’d visited death row a few weeks before that call from Robert E. Lee Key, I met with five desperate condemned men: Willie Tabb, Vernon Madison, Jesse Morrison, Harry Nicks, and Walter McMillian. It was an exhausting, emotionally taxing day, and the cases and clients had merged together in my mind on the long drive back to Atlanta. But I remembered Walter. He was at least fifteen years older than me, not particularly well educated, and he hailed from a small rural community. The memorable thing about him was how insistent he was that he’d been wrongly convicted. “Mr. Bryan, I know it may not matter to you, but it’s important to me that you know that I’m innocent and didn’t do what they said I did, not no kinda way,” he told me in the meeting room. His voice was level but laced with emotion. I nodded to him. I had learned to accept what clients tell me until the facts suggest something else. “Sure, of course I understand. When I review the record I’ll have a better sense of what evidence they have, and we can talk about it.” “But…look, I’m sure I’m not the first person on death row to tell you that they’re innocent, but I really need you to believe me. My life has been ruined! This lie they put on me is more than I can bear, and if I don’t get help from someone who believes me—” His lip began to quiver, and he clenched his fists to stop himself from crying. I sat quietly while he forced himself back into composure.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  Razbiram , I said, and again he snapped back at me Nishto ne razbirash , you don’t understand anything. But then his voice softened, as it had before, I understand you, he said, but you don’t understand me, and he looked at me again with such sadness that I did eat, finally taking the gift he had offered, though I could barely swallow, my gorge rose at the sweetness of it. Good, he said in English, good, and then he set the banana down half-eaten, carefully folding the skin back over the flesh. He picked up the yogurt then, a cheap flavored brand, and after carefully peeling back the aluminum cover halfway (centimeter by centimeter, again as if measuring the force it took) he brought the cup to his lips and took two large mouthfuls, not spooning it out but drinking it. He turned to the milk again, and holding it in one hand and the yogurt in the other, he began to pour the milk into the cup, slowly, as if he were determined to maintain the thinnest possible ribbon of liquid, a process made difficult by the fact that his hands were trembling, both of them, as they always did when he was drunk. Mite , I said, using my own name for him, his nighest name, I thought, or as nigh as I could come, shortened as if for a child, Mite , is there nothing they can do, is there no treatment? Without looking away from his task, as though any break in concentration would disrupt the delicate process, he brought his head up and then down, a decisive gesture, Ne , he said, nishto . I wondered why this was so, whether because of his condition or because of the expense of whatever was needed to treat it, even here where such things are so much cheaper, and I let myself imagine taking it on, the impossible task of saving him, for a single breath I imagined it, and then I let it go. He set down the milk and yogurt, and having peeled the foil top the rest of the way off he began stirring the mixture with a spoon. He was making some variant of airan , I realized, the watered yogurt that everyone loves in Bulgaria. Mite , I said again, I will help you, I will give you money to go back to Varna. Ne iskam pari , he said, I don’t want money, and he took my hand in his again, squeezing it, though not with the same force as before.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  The crime was discovered when Trina became pregnant. As is often the case, the correctional officer was fired but not criminally prosecuted. Trina remained imprisoned and gave birth to a son. Like hundreds of women who give birth while in prison, Trina was completely unprepared for the stress of childbirth. She delivered her baby while handcuffed to a bed. It wasn’t until 2008 that most states abandoned the practice of shackling or handcuffing incarcerated women during delivery. Trina’s baby boy was taken away from her and placed in foster care. After this series of events—the fire, the imprisonment, the rape, the traumatic birth, and then the seizure of her son—Trina’s mental health deteriorated further. Over the years, she became less functional and more mentally disabled. Her body began to spasm and quiver uncontrollably, until she required a cane and then a wheelchair. By the time she had turned thirty, prison doctors diagnosed her with multiple sclerosis, intellectual disability, and mental illness related to trauma. Trina had filed a civil suit against the officer who raped her, and the jury awarded her a judgment of $62,000. The guard appealed, and the Court reversed the verdict because the correctional officer had not been permitted to tell the jury that Trina was in prison for murder. Consequently, Trina never received any financial aid or services from the state to compensate her for being violently raped by one of its “correctional” officers. In 2014, Trina turned fifty-two. She has been in prison for thirty-eight years. She is one of nearly five hundred people in Pennsylvania who have been condemned to mandatory life imprisonment without parole for crimes they were accused of committing when they were between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. It is the largest population of child offenders condemned to die in prison in any single jurisdiction in the world. — In 1990, Ian Manuel and two older boys attempted to rob a couple who were out for dinner in Tampa, Florida. Ian was thirteen years old. When Debbie Baigre resisted, Ian shot her with a handgun given to him by the older boys. The bullet went through Baigre’s cheek, shattering several teeth and severely damaging her jaw. All three boys were arrested and charged with armed robbery and attempted homicide.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  Most incarcerated women—nearly two-thirds—are in prison for nonviolent, low-level drug crimes or property crimes. Drug laws in particular have had a huge impact on the number of women sent to prison. “Three strikes” laws have also played a considerable role. I started challenging conditions of confinement at Tutwiler in the mid-1980s as a young attorney with the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee. At the time, I was shocked to find women in prison for such minor offenses. One of the first incarcerated women I ever met was a young mother who was serving a long prison sentence for writing checks to buy her three young children Christmas gifts without sufficient funds in her account. Like a character in a Victor Hugo novel, she tearfully explained her heartbreaking tale to me. I couldn’t accept the truth of what she was saying until I checked her file and discovered that she had, in fact, been convicted and sentenced to over ten years in prison for writing five checks, including three to Toys“R”Us. None of the checks was for more than $150. She was not unique. Thousands of women have been sentenced to lengthy terms in prison for writing bad checks or for minor property crimes that trigger mandatory minimum sentences. The collateral consequences of incarcerating women are significant. Approximately 75 to 80 percent of incarcerated women are mothers with minor children. Nearly 65 percent had minor children living with them at the time of their arrest—children who have become more vulnerable and at-risk as a result of their mother’s incarceration and will remain so for the rest of their lives, even after their mothers come home. In 1996, Congress passed welfare reform legislation that gratuitously included a provision that authorized states to ban people with drug convictions from public benefits and welfare. The population most affected by this misguided law is formerly incarcerated women with children, most of whom were imprisoned for drug crimes. These women and their children can no longer live in public housing, receive food stamps, or access basic services. In the last twenty years, we’ve created a new class of “untouchables” in American society, made up of our most vulnerable mothers and their children. Marsha wandered through her first days at Tutwiler in a state of disbelief. She met other women like herself who had been imprisoned after having given birth to stillborn babies. Efernia McClendon, a young black teenager from Opelika, Alabama, got pregnant in high school and didn’t tell her parents. She delivered at just over five months and left the stillborn baby’s remains in a drainage ditch. When they were discovered, she was interrogated by police until she acknowledged that she couldn’t be 100 percent sure the infant hadn’t moved before death, even though the premature delivery made viability extremely unlikely. Threatened with the death penalty, she joined a growing community of women imprisoned for having unplanned pregnancies and bad judgment.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  Ian’s appointed lawyer encouraged him to plead guilty, assuring him that he would be sentenced to fifteen years in prison. The lawyer didn’t realize that two of the charges against Ian were punishable with sentences of life imprisonment without parole. The judge accepted Ian’s plea and then sentenced him to life with no parole. Even though he was thirteen, the judge condemned Ian for living in the streets, for not having good parental supervision, and for his multiple prior arrests for shoplifting and minor property crimes. Ian was sent to an adult prison—the Apalachee Correctional Institution, one of the toughest prisons in Florida. The correctional staff at the prison processing center couldn’t find any uniforms that would fit a boy Ian’s size, so they cut six inches from the bottom of their smallest pants. Juveniles housed in adult prisons are five times more likely to be the victims of sexual assault, so the staff at Apalachee put Ian, who was small for his age, in solitary confinement. Solitary confinement at Apalachee means living in a concrete box the size of a walk-in closet. You get your meals through a slot, you do not see other inmates, and you never touch or get near another human being. If you “act out” by saying something insubordinate or refusing to comply with an order given to you by a correctional officer, you are forced to sleep on the concrete floor of your cell without a mattress. If you shout or scream, your time in solitary is extended; if you hurt yourself by refusing to eat or mutilating your body, your time in solitary is extended; if you complain to officers or say anything menacing or inappropriate, your time in solitary is extended. You get three showers a week and are allowed forty-five minutes in a small caged area for exercise a few times a week. Otherwise you are alone, hidden away in your concrete box, week after week, month after month. In solitary, Ian became a self-described “cutter”; he would take anything sharp on his food tray to cut his wrists and arms just to watch himself bleed. His mental health unraveled, and he attempted suicide several times. Each time he hurt himself or acted out, his time in isolation was extended. Ian spent eighteen years in uninterrupted solitary confinement.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  After my call with Herbert, I filed a flurry of stay motions in various courts. I knew the odds were low that we would block the execution. By the late 1980s, the U.S. Supreme Court had grown impatient with challenges to capital punishment. The Court had justified reauthorization of the death penalty in the mid-1970s on the promise that proceedings would be subject to heightened scrutiny and meticulous compliance with the law but then began to retreat from the existing review procedures. The Court’s rulings had become increasingly hostile to death row prisoners and less committed to the notion that “death is different,” requiring more careful review. The Court decided to bar claims from federal habeas corpus review if they weren’t initially presented to state courts. Federal courts were then forbidden to consider new evidence unless it was first presented to state courts. The Court began insisting that federal judges defer more to state court rulings, which tended to be more indulgent of errors and defects in capital proceedings. In the 1980s, the Court rejected a constitutional challenge to imposing the death penalty on juveniles; upheld the death penalty for disabled people suffering from “mental retardation”; and, in a widely condemned opinion, found no constitutional violation in the extreme racial disparities that could be seen throughout most death penalty jurisdictions. By the end of the decade, some justices had become openly critical of the review that death penalty cases received. Chief Justice William Rehnquist urged restrictions on death penalty appeals and the endless efforts of lawyers to stop executions. “Let’s get on with it,” he famously declared at a bar association event in 1988. Finality, not fairness, had become the new priority in death penalty jurisprudence. —