Capital(istic) Punishment

I cried on the train today. I was on my way to an early yoga class, and finishing up a piece on Todd Willingham, the man who was sentenced to death for killing his three children in a terrible fire. With mounting sadness and frustration, I read the excruciating story that further reinforced my belief that the death penalty is wrong. Towards the end of the horrific tale, tragedy befalls the one person outside of his mother and father who visited and supported him through his period of incarceration. She believed in him, and on the day of his execution, she was in a car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. It was at this moment that on the Q train between Canal Street and Union Square that I cried in public. The stinging burning cry that comes out of nowhere, the kind of silent tears that are borne of anger and sadness. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The deputy fire inspector was wrong, the jury was wrong, Willingham's ex-wife was wrong. All because of ego and the need to have a pat answer.

This is where I don't understand the "superior" minds of the law. How do you make a decision like this, sending a rippled effect into the lives of the community and the world, and live with yourself? Despite study and intellect, how can a person be granted this much power? Is it about money? Is it about power and pride? Or is it just ego? I can't really wrap my head around it. I don't know how people move on after this sort of tragedy in their lives, when all I could do was try not to cry in public.