Guest Columnist Jamala Rogers
He was boastful and proud. Some would say that he showed no remorse for the way that he had killed people. The killings crossed several state lines. I’m talking about Dr. Alan Doerhoff, who confidently projects himself as the “world’s authority on lethal injection.”
Doerhoff, who has been hit with 20 malpractice suits in his medical career, estimates he has participated in over 50 executions. Doerhoff was banned from Missouri’s execution process when it was exposed by a St. Louis Post-Dispatch investigative report that he suffered from dyslexia and transposes numbers while mixing the lethal drug cocktail for executions. The discovery resulted in a court-imposed moratorium in Missouri – until the recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling upholding lethal injections. Doerhoff is currently at the center of a lawsuit regarding Arizona’s lethal injection procedure.
Doerhoff is just one of many blatant flaws in the death penalty process. From forced confessions by the alleged perpetrators or witnesses to prosecutorial trickery, the evidence in Missouri’s tainted capital punishment system is clear. The compelling factors of race and class only add to the already deadly mix.
One of those flaws surrounds the impending execution of Dennis Skillicorn. Skillicorn is scheduled for an August 27 execution in the 1994 murder of Richard Drummond. That night, Skillicorn, Allen Nicklasson and Tim DeGraffenreid started off with a burglary. Drummond stopped to give the three assistance with their broke down car and was allegedly taken into a wooded area, with idea of turning him loose. While the other two waited in the car, Nicklasson allegedly carried the victim into woods but decided to kill him instead.
Nicklasson has always admitted he was the shooter and that the other two had nothing to do with the murder. Yet, he was not allowed to testify to such at Skillicorn’s trial or in his appeals case. The prosecution simply was not interested in the truth.
In the individual trials, DeGraffrenreid got life without parole, while Nicklasson and Skillicorn each received a death sentence. So the question arises, should someone get the death penalty when they were not the shooter and were not a part of any plans to kill a person? I think most justice-seeking people would say no.
The state doesn’t seem to be interested in the positive activities of Skillicorn since his imprisonment. He has a respected reputation both inside and outside the prison walls. Skillicorn is the editor of Compassion, a magazine by inmates that focuses on restorative justice. He has helped to raise scholarship monies for murder victims’ family members. Dennis works with the prison hospice program as well as reaches out to troubled youth with a message to avoid crime. The list goes on.
Dennis Skillicorn has never denied his part in the crime that ended in the death of an innocent victim. But he shouldn’t have to take the weight of someone else’s crime. The fact that he was a quarter of a mile away from the murder scene and that he has positively changed his life and the lives of others while incarcerated are facts that deserve to be lifted up and given serious consideration.
Supporters of Dennis are asking that his sentence be commuted to life without parole. An online petition is available for your signature at www.thepetitionsite.com/1/help-dennis-skillicorn. If our efforts fail to get a reprieve from Governor Matt Blunt and the execution moves forward, there will be a vigil on Tuesday, August 26 at 8:15 p.m. at The College Church, Lindell Blvd. and Grand Ave.