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I
am before this Court today solely for display. This day is for the
victims' families, the judge, and whomever else, to insult, threaten,
and condemn me. I had no intentions of speaking out today, but some
people whom I care greatly for asked differently of me. So, since I am
now compelled to speak out, I will speak my mind at some length.
Some of the things I have to say might seem callous to you. It is
not my intentions to be so, it is only because I of ten am now
unconsciously so. My emotions, my mind, and my will have all been forged
on the anvil of adversity from spending nearly ten years in America's
most dangerous federal prisons. Places where ignorance rules, and where
barbary and butchery are the daily staple. I have had people come at me
with fists, knives, and pipes, -- all over trivial matters. Such is the
commonplace life in prison. I have witnessed things happen to people I
think far worse than death. These things cannot but change a person; I
am no exception.
My prison experience has immuned me to all but the most vicious
of physical attacks, sickness, death, and feeling pain when those whom I
love hurt. I am not proud of this immunity, this callousness. It is not
a product of my own design, but one borne of necessity. In order to
survive in prison, you must become that danger you most fear, otherwise
you become the victim of that fear. A great price is paid for this
metamorphosis, a part of one's own humanity must be cast away, too
costly for all but the most desperate,-- or the most ignorant. Prison is
desperation whether you are on the top of the pile or the bottom. Ten
years ago I was not so callous, or so impervious to the verbal attacks
from others. But today is different, I am different.
Certainly there will be those who came today that are unconnected
in anyway to this proceeding; there are always those with a fetish for
morbidity. Some of you came today hoping to see me squirm, tremble in
fear, or plead for mercy, -- you have wasted your time. And
perhaps some of you came hoping to hear some last minute confession from
the condemned, -- sorry, for that is impossible. I have taken no
person's life.
Assuredly all but those who know me well will balk at my last
told my one attorney, Mr. Spies, and to a much lesser degree my former
best friend, Tim Cutkomp, what I know to have transpired and what my
actions were in response to it.
As it is, the vast majority believe me guilty of murder.
Just because you believe something to be true does not make it so.
People often hold beliefs and erroneous facts to be true, when indeed
they are false. They believe them to be true because they want them to
be true, or because they fear them to be true. People can rarely
distinguish between something that is true and something that sounds
true but is false, but they think they can, and that makes them all the
more likely to be fooled. So it is with my case.
Example: About two weeks ago I read an article in the
" I
do not specifically look for those types of articles, but I see them by
chance of ten enough to know it is a problem all over the country.
People, innocent people, languish in prisons and on death rows for years
sometimes before they are exonerated, and those are just the lucky ones.
Without doubt, in every one of those ninety-nine cases in that article I
read, the prosecutor whipped up a story, the public cried out for
justice, the jury convicted them, and the judge condemned them. The
defendant's cries of innocence met with the same mockery mine do now.
People believed them guilty, but that was not so. You believe me
guilty, but that does not make it so. Perhaps it will not happen in my
short time, but whether it takes 10, 20, or even 50 years, exonerated
for these murders I will be.
I have no disillusions as to the efficacy of my appeals in this
court system. It is for that reason that I can today speak with abandon.
Certainly I do not claim to be angelic. I gained knowledge of the
murders, after the facto I actively concealed and destroyed evidence,
perpetuated fraudulent stories, and perjured myself to protect certain
parties, and peripherally myself. I had my reasons for doing such,
whether right or wrong. I have committed many-wrongs, both known and
unknown, but never have I taken another's life. Thought it, -- yes.
Verbalized it, -- yes. Done it, -- no.
I do not harbor animosity for my jury because of my present
predicament. I believe most of my jurors tried hard to be fair to me.
Perhaps my decision, were I in their shoes, would have been the same had
I only the keyhole perspective of this case such as they were displayed.
They were not allowed the benefit of knowing certain things, nor were
they given the benefit of what I know. They were given a jigsaw puzzle
with half of it missing. They need not worry; this is not the first time
l've taken the hit for someone else.
Some people have asked me why I did not take the stand in my own
defense at trial. For all who wonder that question I had two reasons.
First, because my trial was before Angela Johnson's trial. Had I of
taken the stand at my trial, anything I would have said negative or
incriminating about her could have been used against her in her trial.
Even though there is great enmity between her and me, I could do
no such thing. We have a beautiful daughter together and Angie risked
her life once to stop a man from extinguishing mine. Either of those
reasons by itself would prevent me from doing anything to harm her. The
second reason is because of prisoner politics. I do not have the time
nor the energy to go into a dissertation on the how's and why's of it.
The short answer is that you can't go throwing around names of people
not convicted yet. It is considered informing if you do, and not only is
bad for your prison reputation but is also dangerous to your health.
There are same who couldn't imagine me receiving a death sentence
when there were no eye witnesses nor physical evidence saying I was
there. I knew better though. Prosecutors are like magicians, they
distract you with one hand while they trick you with the other. Illusion
is their tool, trickery their trade. They make appear the things they
want you to see and make disappear the things they do not want you to
see.
The prosecutors whom conducted my case knew there were pink
elephants aplenty trapesing around the courtroom that the reasoned man
would see. So, in order to blind the jury's reason they conjured up
passion. Prosecutors know well: When passion is General, reason is
cannon fodder. They knew before the trial even started what buttons to
push to achieve this goal. As soon as passion came bounding into the
room, I watched reason jump out the window.
I was convicted because of passion, not hard evidence. And why
not use passion? It works so well! It works too well, that is the
problem. Perhaps that is the reason there are so many falsely convicted
today; one, is one too many. Deliberately staking passion should be a
taboo during a trial. The courtroom should solely be a place of reason
when peoples' lives hang in the balance. Passion before reason invites
tragedy. Only the most sagacious of people are able to temper passion
with reason, an elite few seldom found in a courtroom.
The many years I have spent in prison have not been wasted idlely.
When able to extract myself from the din of madness that surrounds me, I
seek solitude to reflect and study. Where once my friends were of flesh
and bone, now they are of paper and print;-- an exchange wholly more
edificatious, and more of ten than not, more satisfying.
During my time spent in reflection, I have of ten considered life,
death, and dying. It is difficult to ignore the questions of mortality
when in your surroundings life can be snuffed out in a wink or trudge on
painfully slow. I no longer fear death as I once did; it is the opiate
for a life of pain and suffering. For those who believe the grave is but
the beginning, I can only shake my head, for I waste no time thinking on
such fantasy, so devoid of reason and such utter childish nonsense. If I
have any fear in regards to mortality, it is the fear that upon the hour
of my death that I might realize I had yet never lived. Lived as in an
awareness sense, not a materialistic sense.
It is because of that very concern that I haved lived, and will
continue to live in the time I have left, in the here and now,-- this
moment. The past is regret and the future is worry, neither of which I
wish to waste time on. I will squeeze what life I can from each moment,
trying to snatch life's meaning from its grasp;-- never skipping one in
fear of missing the answer to my questions.
That is not to say I shall not suffer my predicament, for my pain
comes from knowing those whom I love are in pain. No doubt my situation
is causing, and will cause, my family and friends much grief and sorrow.
It is that knowledge that pains me so. They are the ones being dealt the
harshest punishment, for their suffering will go on after mine has long
ended. We are all centers of the Universe, more of ten comparing ourselves to those of greater means than to those of lesser. We all want more seldom understanding the gifts we've had. My lot in life is more difficult than some, but far easier than others. Even if my execution were to be carried out this very day, I would not blink an eye, for I would be thankful for all I’ve had.
I have some specific parties I would like to make a comment to: To
the families of the victims:
No matter that what you believe I have done is not true, nor that your
vengeance towards me is misguided; I do not wish you grief, but wish you
only the diminishing of that great amount you already have. To
the To
special agent John Graham and special prosecutor Tom Miller:
Although your beliefs about me are incorrect on this matter, I have no
issue with either of you. I can not help but admire you for your
professionalism and lack of dirty play during my trial proceedings. To
Tim Cutkomp:
I am so far beyond rage for what you did to me that I have come full
circle back to just hurt. I loved you like a brother; even more so. You
used that love for you and loyalty to you against me. You took
everything that ever meant anything to me in one swipe; my children, my
family, my best friend, my life. No bullet or poison can do much more. To
Jay and Belen:
I miss your friendship. I did not mean to bring trouble to your
doorstep. I am sorry. To
Judge Bennett:
I have read nearly all of your written opinions in my case, and also
some of your opinions from other cases. Al though I have only a crude
knowledge of legal matters, I had always been at least able to discern a
reasoning thought process behind your decisions; whether l agreed with
them or not. That is, until you ruled on my motion for a new trial. Upon
reading your description of the evidence as being a, "tsunami",
and as Juror #523 as being a "troublemaker" and liar; I was
stunned into silence by such absence of reason. I'm not the only one to
think this, but I'm probably the only one who will tell you so.
Considering my case was your first trial puts your
“tsunami" comment into its proper perspective,-- enough said on
that. But the Juror #523 comment?! lf you won't impeach a verdict
through reasoning that the juror was a troublemaker and liar, then how
can you uphold that same juror's verdict? Through your reasoning we
could believe nothing,-- her juror questionnaire, Voir Dire, etc. A
simpleton lam, but I recognize a double standard when I see one.
Throughout my entire trial process you have denied nearly every
single motion of any import forwarded by my defense team. You have been
on a death agenda from the start. I can do nothing but admire your
conviction at all cost to stay the course. For whatever reason it is
that you demand my life so, whether it is from your own personal Loathing
of me, the nature of my case in accord with your own personal tragedy,
your relationship to my attorneys, the Eighth Circuit's fiscal pressure
on you, or a combination-of all things said and unsaid,-- I hold no
personal ill-will against you for it. I can no longer muster the
all-consuming hatred I once could. Perhaps age has dulled it, or maybe
I'm just too tired anymore, I don't know.
I do know however that I am disappointed, no doubt meaningless to
all but myself. Contrary to popular belief, I have never spoken ill of
you, nor wished harm upon you or your family in any way. I had long
heralded you as my only hope for a fair trial. I spoke of you as a
maverick, a man of true integrity and principles, whose decision making
was impregnable to outside forces or personal prejudices.
You have toppled that citadel; razed that strawman. You have
regally removed yourself from that mantle and relegated yourself to the
judiciary status quo, where double standards and hypocracy presidé. I
have shamed myself yet once again by my overly-optimistic assessment of
another's character. The older I get the more I come to understand that,
I see you now for what you are, just a man perhaps a good man
to
those whom you like, but from where I'm sitting I'11 never know.
You
are not the moral authority, nor even the man of integrity I once
propped
you up to be I should have known better, disappointment is
after
the child of expectation. The clouds have parted and the true
sky
has appeared.
Eyeing
you up there in your bully pulpit, I have had occasion to
witness
you belittle and berate, before all, even the most well-intentioned
professional people. I have no doubt that you have worked diligently to
prepare a "passionate" speech for the ears of the press and
public; a stinging rebuke of me, a condemning homily.
At one time I would have listened to your words, as I did when
you promised me you would be fair,-- but no more. Today I turn a deaf
ear to you; I am numb to your barbs and impervious to your condemnations.
So, for expediency, a means you have used with mastery in my
case, skip the speech and just pronounce the sentence, it speaks volumes
by itself. Anything you have to say only takes away from it.
And finally, a message to those whom are a part of me: Dad:
Had I only the wisdom to learn from others' mistakes. Ron:
Had I only the courage to be half the man as you. Alyssa:
I have same cherished memories, that none but you could have given. What
irony,--I ran to defend you when we were young, now you run to defend
me. Know that what tethers us together cannot be bought, broken, or
stolen. Let
come what may, I will never let go. To
the woman whom I love:
I wish it you know that you are more precious to me than my very life,--
there is only you, there is no other, nor would I ever wish there to be
another. Long ago you offered me your love; a treasure unparalleled.
And, out of ignorance, I returned your gift with grief and heartbreak.
Sorry only begins my journey. You taught me selfless love, that with no
tally nor receipt,-- where the subject's only goal is the object's
happiness. I am forever in your debt. Until my very last breath, I am
yours. Mom:
You have been my solace that no storm can sweep away. When most would be
gone, I need not turn and look, for I know that you are there. I have
never meant to hurt you, but I have. Having children of my own I now
understand when you say that no parent should have to outlive their own
child,-- we have one last storm to weather together. I wish I could have
made you proud. Were I as a perennial, I would bloom for you next
time,-- so you could smile. To
my children:
It is for you that I was asked to speak out this day, so some day you
may know. --I
have
done my best.-- Volumes of books could not contain my thoughts, hopes,
and dreams for you. Any attempt to describe the love I have for you, by
means of words and phrases, could only describe but the shadow of it and
.steal from its purity. It is for that reason that I hope you will
understand the sincerity of my message through its simplicity. As is of
ten true, what is left unsaid is far more powerful than what is said.
That said,-- I have failed you, completely and irreparably. The grief of
it looms over me as a spector; I tremble at its presence. I only press
on in the hopes I might yet do you some small good. Dustin
Lee Honken
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