Killer pleads for clemency

"Donald Beardslee does not deserve to live ... he is a murderer and should not be given a chance to fight for his life," said Renee Geddling, who was only 4 years old when her mother, Paula, was fatally shot in 1981. Her older brother, Ivan, was barely 5.

Paula, known as Patty, was only 19 when she and 23-year-old friend, Stacy Benjamin, were ambushed in Beardslee's apartment over a soured drug deal.

Like many Friday who asked that Beardslee die, Renee Geddling focused on the two women's young ages, a seemingly never-ending list of world experiences stolen from them and how much fear they must have had knowing they would die.

"I wonder about my sister every day. I wonder what she was thinking ... she knew she was going to die," testified Tom Amundson, Benjamin's older brother.

Letters from Geddling's mother and the children of Beardslee's earlier victim as well as testimony from others spoke of how the murders tore apart their lives and left black holes once filled with smiles and possibilities.

Renee Geddling always wondered what her mother's arms would have felt like around her or what she smelled like. Amundson said his sister spoke of multiple children and toyed with being either a lawyer or a real estate broker. Benjamin's godmother said her mother never smiled or laughed after her daughter died.

The three-hour clemency hearing before the Board of Prison terms in Sacramento was Beardslee's near to last hope at having his death sentence commuted to life in prison without parole. The same day, a federal appeals court turned down his bid for a stay based on his claim the injection is unconstitutional and causes undue pain.

Regardless of the court's findings, Amundson and the other speakers could not get beyond the pain Beardslee inflicted in 1981 and in a prior Missouri murder for which he was on parole.

The crimes

Beardslee was the only person present at the murder of each woman but barely knew the victims. His 19-year-old roommate, Rikki Soria, and her boyfriend, Frank Rutherford, believed the women had cheated another friend, William Forrester, out of drug money. On April 25, 1981, Soria lured the women to the Hopkins Avenue apartment and Geddling was shot in the shoulder by Rutherford. After being bound for hours and left in the bathtub, Geddling was taken to a remote coastside road and finished off by Forrester and Beardslee.

Upon returning, Beardslee, Soria and Rutherford drove Benjamin for hours to Lake County. She was killed and left with her pants yanked down in hopes of leading police to believe it was a rape. A phone number found in Geddling's pocket eventually led them back to Beardslee and the others.

All were tried but only parolee Beardslee received death. Forrester was acquitted, Soria is currently serving 15 years to life and Rutherford served a life sentence before dying in prison in 2002.

Beardslee had the greatest motive to kill because he was on parole for murdering Laura Griffin, said prosecutor Martin Murray.

Despite defense arguments that Beardslee unwittingly walked into the crime upon returning home, Murray said he knew exactly what was planned and even directed Soria to go buy duct tape.

Families on opposite sides

His voice filled with emotion, Amundson paced in front of the lectern and graphically described how the women must have died. Geddling died from multiple gunshot wounds, including the last two fatal shots by Beardslee. Benjamin was strangled with a wire, had her throat sliced and was stabbed in the chest before finally dying.

"It's pretty gruesome the noises the body makes ...it makes you sick," Amundson said, comparing the violence to experiences he had as a Marine in Vietnam.

Despite defense claims Beardslee feared Rutherford, Amundson said he had a choice.

"You put one foot in front of the other. You just walk away," he said.

Emotion wasn't only the domain of the victims' families. Beardslee's siblings, too, have waited more than two decades to learn his fate.

Beardslee's brother and sister also choked up when asking he be spared. Both expressed deep sympathy for the victims and their families but placed blame both on his reported brain damage and a lack of psychiatric help.

Richard Beardslee and Carol Miller described a socially awkward child without his own friends and who always seemed different.

"He always stood on the fringes while the rest of us made a life," testified Richard Beardslee, a retired police officer.

Donald Beardslee joined the Air Force but nearly died after being hit on the head with a tree limb. That, coupled with a serious car accident earlier in his life, augmented a "genetic vulnerability" to brain damage, said Dr. Ruben Gur.

Gur, hired by the defense team, showed the Board of Prison Terms charts of brain analysis in hopes of convincing them Beardslee has no impulse control and always followed others.

While not excusing their brother's actions, Beardslee and Miller said he was simply a "patsy" used by other criminals like Rutherford and police who preyed on his willingness to confess to the crimes.

Murray dismissed defense claims about Beardslee's mental status, pointing out his bright IQ even after the tree accident good high school grades and ability to graduate from technical courses while in prison. Amundson, too, said Beardslee's job as an Air Force machinist and president of the Toastmaster's Speaking Club fly in the face of Gur's claims.

A model inmate

Earlier this week, former San Quentin Prison warden Daniel Vasquez urged clemency and reiterated the stance through a letter to the board yesterday. Vasquez said sparing Beardslee will serve as an example for good behavior to other death row inmates, possibly preventing future assaults on guards or prisoners.

Peggy Harrell, Beardslee's spiritual advisor, also described him as an excellent inmate prone to collecting lunch bags to make care packages for others in his unit.

Murray contradicted the arguments, saying the good behavior is only because his activities and contact with others are restricted by his death row residency.

The battle

Beardslee's case provides unique challenges for the anti-death penalty contingent. They do not have the possibility of exoneration on which to hang their opposition or hopes for clemency. Instead, the various groups were left to condemn the system as a whole and ask that Beardslee be allowed an MRI to confirm a lack of brain function. Opponents also pointed out an ongoing state Senate investigation into the justice system, including capital punishment.

Clemency is not so much about Beardslee as it is showing compassion as a society and teaching future generations that even homicide sanctioned by the state is wrong, said Lance Lindsey, executive director of Death Penalty Focus.

"It has no purpose other than the worst possible purpose: to make a few people feel good," he said.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger did not attend Friday's hearing, preferring instead to await the board's confidential recommendation. He is expected to issue his decision by early next week and his office has not said whether he will make public the board's findings based on the clemency hearing.

Local prosecutors are hopeful they will prevail with keeping the execution on schedule but are mindful that Beardslee's case is following a different path than that of fellow condemned inmate Kevin Cooper. Cooper, scheduled to die just prior to Beardslee, was denied clemency by the governor without any public arguments or hearings. Cooper was only saved by a last-minute reprieve by a federal court.

Beardslee's crimes and tenure on San Quentin's death row netted little media attention the past two decades. Renewed interest came, though, with his push to the front of the execution schedule and the recent death sentence of Scott Peterson by a San Mateo County jury.

If Beardslee's bid fails, he will be the first person executed in California in three years and the 11th condemned inmate murdered since the state re-instated capital punishment in 1978. Beardslee's execution will be the first of a San Mateo County inmate in approximately 40 years.

Michelle Durand can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this story? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.