Opinions

The Case For Compassion on Death Row

Extending compassion to death row inmates proves that humanity extends through the bars.

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In the silence of a six-by-nine-foot cell—where days blur into years and the clock ticks toward an impending end—a simple envelope can mean everything. Extending compassion to someone on death row can seem daunting—what do you say to someone our justice system has condemned to death? However, in this momentary connection lies an opportunity for both parties to rediscover their shared humanity. 


This topic is extremely controversial for a multitude of reasons. Some are fearful of exchanging letters with someone who could be dangerous. Many question why we should extend compassion towards criminals. Why does a rapist or a murderer deserve outreach? Why invest emotional energy in someone our justice system has deemed unfit for society? 


Nevertheless, I refuse to look away from the brutal truth: our system warehouses human beings in concrete boxes and leaves them to rot.  Prisoners spend as much as 23 hours daily in cells the size of bathrooms. They eat there, sleep there, and defecate there. The UN deems this confinement torture, but we call it justice. This practice serves neither meaningful rehabilitation nor proportionate punishment; it often fails to provide the public safety or justice promised.


However, the reality death row inmates face extends beyond the physical confines of their cells. The “death row phenomenon” is the psychological impact on prisoners who spend long periods under harsh conditions with the ever-present shadow of execution hanging over them. Isolation and uncertainty lead to a severe deterioration in mental and physical health and often make inmates suicidal.

I believe we should extend compassion to death row inmates precisely because of their extreme circumstances. Regardless of their crimes, these individuals remain human beings capable of suffering, reflection, and connection. Compassion isn’t about excusing one’s harmful actions but rather recognizing their inherent dignity as humans. When we dehumanize even those who have committed terrible acts, we diminish something essential within ourselves.

Despite the moral question surrounding the death penalty, this article is not a call to abolish it. Rather, it is to illustrate the simplicity of being compassionate to prisoners on death row. Compassion for inmates can be expressed via correspondence, whether through physical letters or emails. Unlike many people’s worst assumptions, letters exchanged between death row inmates and their pen pals aren’t filled with manipulations or twisted confessions. They’re mundane, filled with talk of weather, books, and childhood memories. When you’re facing execution, sometimes the greatest gift is someone who’ll discuss a baseball game with you. 


One letter can change an inmate’s final years. Consider the case of Ray Jasper, who was executed in Texas in 2014. During his time on death row, he corresponded with numerous people outside of prison. Through these exchanges, Jasper was able to share his thoughts on justice, race, and the prison system. These letters were later published and served as Jasper’s final message to the world. Yes, Jasper was a criminal who killed a recording-studio owner in cold blood, but his crime does not devalue the importance of his message, which he wouldn’t have been able to share without this correspondence.


Additionally, there aren’t just benefits for those receiving compassion—evidence shows that expressing compassion can reap just as many rewards, especially in the case of writing to death row inmates. This is true in the case of Sister María Espinoza, a member of the Franciscan Missionaries of Our Lady of Peace. Sister Espinoza described receiving her first reply from a death row inmate as “a joy” because “that meant that he wanted to continue with the correspondence.” Acts of compassion are processed within parts of the brain associated with reward, love, and social affiliation. Compassion forms the basis of morality as well as the foundation of successful human relationships because it helps us understand different perspectives. 


In a time when the judicial system constantly works to suppress the natural compassion we feel for those on death row, it is essential to fight the prejudice that makes us reject those inmates in need. The little things you do without thinking—offering a hand to a child who tripped and fell, helping your neighbor carry groceries up the stairs, wedging your foot between the subway doors so another passenger can slip through—should be extended into greater acts of compassion even for those in the most extreme circumstances of incarceration. 


In your daily life, consider making the decision to extend kindness towards a death row inmate. Organizations like Human Writes and the Death Row Support Project connect volunteers with death row inmates for correspondence that can make a true difference in their lives. Aside from letter writing, take advantage of opportunities to volunteer with organizations such as the American Bar Association, who work to provide counsel for death row prisoners with the support of interns and private attorneys. Consider donating to a mental health program for death row prisoners, such as the one at San Quentin Prison, where death row prisoners regularly attend both group and one-on-one therapy. 


Our humanity shouldn’t end where someone else’s conviction begins. If you’re blessed enough to experience life’s fullness—to feel the sun on your face whenever you want; to hug your loved ones; to choose what or when you eat—then you owe some of that privilege to those who have nothing. This isn’t because they deserve it, but because it is your duty. Extending compassion in impossible circumstances is what makes us human


I’m not asking you to excuse heinous crimes. I’m asking you to recognize that mercy and kindness define our character more than judgment. Our system works overtime to erase the humanity of the condemned. Your compassion can be the one thing that says: I see you. Not your crime, not your sentence. You.