THE MANY SHADES OF CONSCIENCE
In this final blog about why I wanted A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE to be published, I will share the fourth reason I was willing to reopen the darkest days of my husband’s life to the public eye.
Conscience is defined as “the sense of what is right and wrong that governs a person’s thoughts and actions, urging him or her to do right rather than wrong.” As I sat through Bobby’s trial, I was stunned more than once by the twists and turns conscience took on the witness stand. And so, in Bobby’s book, the theme of conscience is played out through the central characters in disparate ways—sometimes as pure as a new snowfall and at other times stained by personal motives.
Although Bobby had killed in self-defense, his conscience tortured him because he had taken the life of another human being. For 31 years, his conscience was as black as a starless night. As revealed in the book, after the trial Bobby began to see the grayness of his actions, perhaps because, as he testified about what happened in the wee hours of July 21, 1957, he at last internalized that if he hadn’t killed, he would have been killed. With that realization, he was finally able to forgive himself. Even so, he never saw his conscience as white and pure. He knew he was a sinner saved by grace.
The preacher/psychologist who betrayed Bobby’s sacred confidence had a skewed sense of conscience. Saying he had never betrayed a confidence previously, he felt justified in breaking his word to Bobby because he feared he himself would undergo personality disintegration if he did not tell the police what he knew. In his mind, he would become some type of accomplice by keeping silent. And his conscience wouldn’t allow that. The other part of his conscience that should have kicked in at the thought of betraying a confidence was silent—or at least overcome by his personal need to stay sane.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, another witness who didn’t even know Bobby could not be silent even though friends and co-workers told her she shouldn’t get involved in the case. But she knew something that contradicted the testimony of another witness, and she felt it would be wrong not to come forward, despite her timidity and fear of being on the witness stand. The witness being disputed seemingly had no conscience, apparently willing to make up stories without compunction. In contrast, the courageous witness who came forward voluntarily to counter what she believed to be false testimony had a pure conscience—her only motive was to do what was right.
On the prosecution side, witnesses who the district attorney knew or should have known were going to perjure themselves, were put on the stand and used to shore up a weak case. Before that occurred, detectives had used questionable strategies to get their star witness to come up with a story that would prove premeditation. Was there ever a nudge of conscience on the prosecution side? If so, it didn’t come out in the courtroom or in media reports.
And the judge who sat on the bench. I had naively believed judges ruled on the law, but many attorneys, and even several judges, found the rulings in Bobby’s case to be controversial if not downright wrong. The two most egregious ones were the ruling on preacher/penitent confidentiality and the ruling that let the case go forward after 31 years even though witnesses had died, records had been lost, and memories had faded.
Lastly, the jury. I expected every person on the jury to listen to the evidence before deciding whether Bobby was guilty. Yet, one person defied the judge’s orders and went to the scene of the decades-old incident with her husband. She made up her mind about what could or could not have happened long before the defense had concluded its case. I’m thankful the other jurors weren’t swayed—that they saw through the subterfuge and embellished recall of prosecution witnesses and that they believed Bobby. I will be forever grateful they heard the testimonies and sifted through the evidence before voting their conscience.
Conscience is defined as “the sense of what is right and wrong that governs a person’s thoughts and actions, urging him or her to do right rather than wrong.” As I sat through Bobby’s trial, I was stunned more than once by the twists and turns conscience took on the witness stand. And so, in Bobby’s book, the theme of conscience is played out through the central characters in disparate ways—sometimes as pure as a new snowfall and at other times stained by personal motives.
Although Bobby had killed in self-defense, his conscience tortured him because he had taken the life of another human being. For 31 years, his conscience was as black as a starless night. As revealed in the book, after the trial Bobby began to see the grayness of his actions, perhaps because, as he testified about what happened in the wee hours of July 21, 1957, he at last internalized that if he hadn’t killed, he would have been killed. With that realization, he was finally able to forgive himself. Even so, he never saw his conscience as white and pure. He knew he was a sinner saved by grace.
The preacher/psychologist who betrayed Bobby’s sacred confidence had a skewed sense of conscience. Saying he had never betrayed a confidence previously, he felt justified in breaking his word to Bobby because he feared he himself would undergo personality disintegration if he did not tell the police what he knew. In his mind, he would become some type of accomplice by keeping silent. And his conscience wouldn’t allow that. The other part of his conscience that should have kicked in at the thought of betraying a confidence was silent—or at least overcome by his personal need to stay sane.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, another witness who didn’t even know Bobby could not be silent even though friends and co-workers told her she shouldn’t get involved in the case. But she knew something that contradicted the testimony of another witness, and she felt it would be wrong not to come forward, despite her timidity and fear of being on the witness stand. The witness being disputed seemingly had no conscience, apparently willing to make up stories without compunction. In contrast, the courageous witness who came forward voluntarily to counter what she believed to be false testimony had a pure conscience—her only motive was to do what was right.
On the prosecution side, witnesses who the district attorney knew or should have known were going to perjure themselves, were put on the stand and used to shore up a weak case. Before that occurred, detectives had used questionable strategies to get their star witness to come up with a story that would prove premeditation. Was there ever a nudge of conscience on the prosecution side? If so, it didn’t come out in the courtroom or in media reports.
And the judge who sat on the bench. I had naively believed judges ruled on the law, but many attorneys, and even several judges, found the rulings in Bobby’s case to be controversial if not downright wrong. The two most egregious ones were the ruling on preacher/penitent confidentiality and the ruling that let the case go forward after 31 years even though witnesses had died, records had been lost, and memories had faded.
Lastly, the jury. I expected every person on the jury to listen to the evidence before deciding whether Bobby was guilty. Yet, one person defied the judge’s orders and went to the scene of the decades-old incident with her husband. She made up her mind about what could or could not have happened long before the defense had concluded its case. I’m thankful the other jurors weren’t swayed—that they saw through the subterfuge and embellished recall of prosecution witnesses and that they believed Bobby. I will be forever grateful they heard the testimonies and sifted through the evidence before voting their conscience.
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