The Black Widow

            I.  Mercy and Justice

Our Justice dozes and relaxes.
With all these tribunals in Texas
She definitely cannot keep
Herself in shape, and falls asleep.
Tired of the disputation’s peal,
She cannot stand one more appeal.

“Wake up!” – her sister Mercy cries:
“We need your help.  Wake up and rise.”

“I’m tired and I long for rest.
Let my attendants serve me best.
My Board of Pardons and Paroles
Consists of fair brains and souls,
My Jury and my Court I trust.
Oh, let me sleep.”

                “Wake up, you must!
There is a fatal flaw, I know:
A woman, waiting on Death Row,
Relies on you. A steady woe.
Treads constantly upon her heels.
Wake up and sense the pain she feels.”

“Who?”
              “Betty Beets”
                “It is too late
For her, and she deserves her fate.
She killed two husbands. What to tell?
Her case I know very well.”

“You don’t, my dear Justice. Sorry.
I beg you; let me tell her story:
A hopeless life without love,
Abuses, in a velvet glove,
An iron fist of cruel fate.”

 “Playing on pity, Mercy?”
                “Wait!
 Don’t out-Herod Herod, dear,
 Just listen, please, and try to hear.”


               II.  A Nightmare Life

    “A chronicle of her nightmare life
     Had started prior to her own birth.
     Her grandma was a raped and beaten wife.
     Her mom was raped. Her father mopped the Earth
     With his poor wife and made her very sick,
     Sick mentally, but being forced to lick
     The dust, a frightened wife (alack!)
     Had never tried fighting back.

     Then Betty Lou was born in poverty extreme
     From a violent and alcoholic father.
     A baby in the woods, a playful happy stream.
     She was kind, nice and tender rather
     Than cruel. Betty was a jolly girl;
     That dunghill pearl, that daughter of a churl.

     And when she felt that she was so dear
     And special, when she was only five –
     Who hurt the girl? Who caused the pain and fear?
     Who brutally attempted to deprive
     Her of her infant gullibility?
     Who drowned Betty in a cup of tea?

      She did not know it was rape,
      A great misfortune and a bitter jape.
      Her own father did it: knocked her flat.
      And nobody punished him for that.
      She could recall her insides falling out.
      Her aunt and mother put them quickly back
      Into the child. This vehement attack
      Did not surprise the Ladies, no doubt.

      Then tell me, Justice, were you raped at five?”

      “Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Mercy! Do not drive
      Me crazy, sister. At that age, you know,
      I played the piano.  I learned to row
      And swim.  I took fine ballet lessons,
      Et cetera.”

                “It is the essence
      Of what I’m trying to explain.
      Let me proceed and make it plain.

      A year later she was ill
      With meningitis. Though still
      Alive, but nearly deaf.  Since then
      What happened was beyond her ken,
      Cause she was six and seeking way
      To be a child, to smile and play.”

                “My Mercy, you’re a real thief
      Of time. Please make this story brief.
      I’ve got the point, and do not go
      Through  poor Betty’s life that slow.”

       “OK. She was at age 15,
       And married. She was just a teen,
       But brutally beaten and abused.
       Her husband’s never been accused.
       I like the newest law adjustment
       In case of sexual harassment.
       But a lawful spouse isn’t the boss.
       He raped his wife without a loss.

       He put the law into his own
       Beloved hands. Oh, do not moan,
       His wife. Be patient, my advice.
       The Law, you know, catches flies,
       But lets the guilty hornets go
       Free.  So, it’s a tale of woe.
       She was successfully abused
       By a succession of her men,
       Assaulted, beaten, raped and bruised.
       Five dear husbands used her then.

       She left her batterers, she tried to escape
       From those scot-free men of rape.
       She tried more than once, she left again,
       But being found, suffered more pain:
       Worse beatings. Then she went to the police.”

       “I don’t believe!”

                “Oh, do believe me, please.
       I have reports, and easily can prove:
       She went to the police, she made her move,
       They did not help her. Yes, she went in vain.
       Do we require victims to remain
       Forever victims?  And for fighting back,
       We punish them, we sentence them and rack.

       But if you asked me: who’s the one to blame?
       I’ll say: Her husband who had no shame
       Or pity.  And your Court should give an order
       Condemning for provoking the murder
       That lupine man, kill him a second time,
       Because he was the grounds of the crime.

       But Betty who was punished in advance,
       Before her crime, could get a better chance:
       To rest in prison and receive release
       By naturally dying there in peace.

       She picked all thorny florets in the field:
       A 62-year old, she’s waiting to be killed,
       Brain-damaged, hearing-impaired,
       And battered, and used, and shared,
       Learning-disabled, old and poor.
       What else is Betty destined to endure?
       Oh, Justice, is she dangerous enough
       To make you unagreeable and tough?”

       “My sister Mercy, think you I’m a brute?
       I wonder if this story is the fruit
       Of your imagination.  On her trial
       I never heard the facts of your espial.
       And to my Jury they’ve not been presented.”

      “However, they’re all well-documented.
       Yes, none of this was introduced at Court,
       But that’s a story of another sort.”


                III.  A Servant of the Law

“Ray Andrews was a servant of the Law,
Beets’ trial lawyer, a notorious drinker,
Nevertheless, a clever thinker
Who would not hesitate to claw
His lucky chance without a care
For the hapless client’s life’s affair.

And he obtained all media rights
To Betty’s painful recollection
Just as his fee for the trial fights,
For leading her in the right direction.

He knew his benefits would grow
In value, if he lost the case
And the trustful client had to face
Her death.  But he would throw
A sprat to catch a mackerel.
If Betty failed, then he’d done well.
He told his friends: “The old witch,
This Betty Beets, will make me rich.”

And during his client’s trial
(What a remarkable lifestyle!)
This man was drinking day and night.
And all his friends could name the site:
The Veterans of Foreign Wars
Club, where he was fleeing from remorse.
Instead of real work he blew
Soap bubbles, fooling Betty Lou.

His words and actions did not jibe.
When trying to fix another case,
He, for soliciting a bribe,
Was tried in court and jailed apace.
He was no saint, he was no priest,
But well, he did not sleep at least
At trial.  Hence – a man of sense.
Some other Lawyers of Defense
Have slept.  In 1991,
When George McFarland was undone
And executed, his attorney
Had dozed through most of the journey,
His client’s trial, even dwelled
In his sweet dreams, while were upheld
The verdict and the sentence, both.
He drowsed, being buried in sloth.

But back to our salt mines,
Let’s finish drawing the lines
To Andrews’ image.  His resistance
To truth.  In spite of the existence
Of photos, police reports,
Impressive hospital transactions,
All proof of Betty Beets’ consorts’
Offensive and assaulting actions,
Ray Andrews did not introduce
Her tragic story of abuse
At trial to the Jury fair.
He skipped this part of her affair.”

“My dear Mercy, do not aim
To shift the burden of this shame
Onto the lawyers’ shoulders, sister.
He, maybe, was a selfish twister,
But she’s a murderess, that’s why
She’s sentenced lawfully to die.”

“Oh, how wrong! Unfair blame.
The reason’s her insurance claim.
And sentenced she for her intention
To benefit from Jimmy’s pension
And Life Insurance.  Without
This claim she’d get a just way out.”


                IV.  Capital Punishment

“A murder for remuneration
Provides a cruel condemnation –
Death Penalty.  It’s not enough,
On the other hand, for a killer tough
To kill somebody.  His protector
Is the missing Aggravating Factor.

If he committed homicide
With no rape, then on his side
Would be the law, and Half-Forgiven Male
Would live for years, though in jail.

If Betty killed her Mister Beets
And did not claim his benefits,
There would be no aggravation,
Therefore she would obtain salvation.

Truth said, you are suspected in return
For that non-fabricated truth.
But lie with skill, and you could quickly earn
The peoples’ hearts and their trust and ruth.

Oh, poor Betty!  Just to crown
All her misfortunes: someone had burned down
Her trailer, she to get advice
Went to Ray Andrews. For a slice
Of her expected profit Ray
Made his research and found a way:

“Your trailer’s a not-worth-a-candle game,”
He said. “We’ll file another claim.”
Ray Andrews being smart and wise,
Toillessly opened Betty’s eyes
To bigger benefits: the loss
Of Jimmy’s life here came across.
Ray Andrews was the one who first
Put forward use of what was lost.

Then later, when she was arrested,
Ray Andrews, after this event,
Took her new case to represent
Again his client.  He was vested
With all the rights to Betty’s story.
He licked his lips, when she was sorry.
He knew that Betty did not plan
To kill for money any man.
But yet he could not testify
This fact, for that would nullify
The media rights he had obtained;
Force him to lose what he just gained.

The Texas Law he ought to face
And to withdraw from Betty’s case,
And then to honestly provide
The testimony of her side,
Give up the rights to Betty’s story
Which lead to money and to glory.

But if he does not testify
And cruelly let his client die,
Still under fair Texas Law,
Which can’t confess its own flaw,
He’ll keep his rights and win the game
By losing then his honest name.

Thus, he decided not to scream
For Justice.  Let his golden dream
Come true at any price – at the expense
Of a person begging hard for his defence.
When she was thus condemned to death,
He chased his luck with bated breath.
A woman’s life some value less
Than the life-tale she may confess.”


                V.  A Thirty Day Stay

“Last hope, new attorney, chance to ween.
She’s desperate to receive one more delay.
But, then, the Court declined to intervene,
A Governor declined to grant the stay.

There was a final crucial decline.
6:08. The Justice met the deadline.
Oh, cruel cold!  Is it time to rest
For all these feminists who tried to protest?
On February twenty-fourth
Supporting women marching back and forth
Behind the prison’s wall and praying: “Be benign!”
They all could not accept the fact
                – Deadline!
But Betty fell asleep.  A doctor said:
“Write down 6:18,
               we’re done,
                the woman’s dead.”

A pure fairness, a feast of rectitude!
Abused and Beaten Wife
               was killed by a Law in Action
For the people’s moral satisfaction
To show a strict unbiased attitude.
Instead of clemency, a triumph of dispraise:
The Governor declined to grant her 30 days.

But yet, in sharp contrast with such a firm response
We have another case.  It happened once,
The Texas King was not so strict to sin:
A stay of 30 days was granted to McGinn.
McGinn who had a nerve to slaughter
A child, his 12-year-old stepdaughter.

He had committed with an ax
A cruel murder.  Do not wax
So angry, Justice.  After all
He maybe did not rape the girl.
Again, it’s not enough to kill.
The Texas Law requires still
An aggravating factor.  So
The junior Bush had mercy for his woe.

But only three, four months ago
Without a doubt, he refused
To pity a broken and abused
Old woman.  And who knows whether
It’s an effect of the cold weather
On Justice:  Betty’s winter time,
A summer for the Ricky’s [1] crime.

                ***


      Unravel it for me, Dame Fortune, do explain
      What did we gain from all this added pain?
      At first, you turned a girl into a woman wicked.
      Then punished her by signing her death-ticket.

      And she, who’s now the subject of despise,
      Could be the cynosure of men’s enamored eyes.
      Sweet Gentlemen, do not complain and fuss:
      You’re getting just what you have made of us.
      A bit of love and over nothing fights:
      So often you prefer your power, your rights.
      While Mercy’s apt to help the souls unblest,
      The men play games,
                and Justice naps in rest.

                ***

Notes.
1. Ricky McGinn