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Editor's note: This piece was written last week several days before the execution of the author's long-time friend, Jim Filiaggi. Zoltan Krompecher was a witness at Jim Filiaggi's death by lethal injection Tuesday morning at the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility in Lucasville.
I've known reporter Nick Claussen since we were both students at Ohio University and am grateful that he took the time to write a story concerning the execution of Jim Filiaggi (The NEWS, April 19). The article revealed another side of Jim that is often not reported -- i.e. he served honorably in the Army and was a solid student in college; however, I would like to take a moment to disabuse a point or two in order to clarify my perspective or address underlying 'themes' regarding the story.
First, I take exception at the possible suggestion that we, those who knew Jim Filiaggi, will hold our glasses high and toast him. This is not a celebratory occasion in which we are gathering to lionize Jim, because doing so would, in some part, glorify another death. Tuesday's execution is not only about Jim's dying; it is also about Lisa's (Jim's ex-wife) death and the altered lives of those who knew them both (e.g. their children, Lisa's parents and friends, and Jim's family and friends). There should be no insinuation that us meeting to say goodbye to Jim is an affair we're looking forward to or one where we are defending his actions. We're not. Instead, friends and family are coming together to remember Jim for who he was to us prior to the murder and to grapple with what happened in hopes of making some sense of that day. I don't expect any of us to walk away with a sense of enlightenment.
Another point I want to comment on concerns my position on the death penalty. The reason I do not support the death penalty is because I am a practicing Catholic and try my best to conduct myself in a non-hypocritical manner. My decision is not borne out of the fact that I know Jim Filiaggi personally (though his death sentence did bring my position concerning the death penalty into sharper relief). My choice in not supporting it is purely from a religious stance. Will I be out there railing against those holding signs calling for Jim's death? Of course not. The execution seems unavoidable, so I sincerely hope that it brings some semblance of closure to Lisa's family and friends.
This is an event in which nobody emerges a winner: all involved lose. At the end of the day, two people will be dead, two children will be without their biological parents, and the lives of family and friends will be fragmented.
The final point in which I would like to comment touches on the author's line that reads in part, 'From this author's standpoint, it's certainly fair to point out that it is Filiaggi's fault he is on Death Row and about to be executed, and that he already put Lisa Huff Filiaggi to death. He is able to make peace with his life, he has lived for 13 years after she died, and he has a chance to say his final goodbyes. Lisa Huff Filliagi did not have the opportunity for any of that.'
That comment is insulting in that it can be interpreted, when coupled with the fact that Jim's friends were getting together on the eve of his execution to 'have a beer for their friend,' as if none of us ever considered Lisa's death. Most of us knew Lisa and her and Jim's daughters. Lisa's murder was a tragedy, and no one needs to be reminded (I think of it all the time) or tacitly admonished for that loss. I was never asked to compare the death of Lisa with Jim's incarceration, so, naturally, I did not comment on it.
As a combat veteran, I have witnessed death 'up close and personal' on more than one occasion and can say that it is not an easy thing to digest. In 2005, I flew home the body of my friend Dave who was killed in Tal-Afar, Iraq. There were no Army manuals I could look to that would prepare me for when I met his wife at the airport. Instead, the only consolation I could offer her was that Dave died surrounded by his fellow Green Berets. That fact alone seemed to help with the grieving... a little. Now I find a man -- a friend whose past actions I do not condone, but a friend nonetheless -- asking me to be with him during the last minutes of his life, to try to offer some measure of comfort. My wife sees the strain placed on me in undertaking such a task, but, like Dave, I do not want a man to die alone. To be sure, Tuesday morning will change me forever, but what am I to do? I wonder what any person would do if asked to do the same.
Editor's note: Zoltan Krompecher, a former OU student and Athens resident, is serving in the U.S. Army and is currently stationed in the state of Washington.