evidentiary:alchemy

When I was a student in Antioch's MFA program, I facilitated an online conference called Process, Process, Process.  It was a space for writers to explore something other than product for a change - a welcome relief from workshops and publication obsession.  We talked about everything from the types of pens we like to use (and why) to how the climate in which we grew up affected our thinking (and why).  Social class, race, marital status, educational background, parenthood, abuse, and drugs are just a few of the rich subjects we explored.  One day, a student asked whether it might be destructive to focus so much on process.  She worried that artists and writers could become too self-conscious and somehow constrict the natural flow.

In other words, can we ever have too much process?

This month, I will explore the case of Coral Eugene Watts, and how due process can sometimes lead to unintended consequences: in this case, a confessed serial killer almost being set free.  Were it not for his first-degree murder conviction in Michigan last week, Watts would be out on the streets in under one year, released from a Texas prison with credits for good behavior.  Yes, you read that right.  Texas, the death penalty capitol of the world, was about to release a serial killer on good behavior. 

So what can this tell about process?  And about writing?

My previous post began and ended with questions.  Can there ever be too much process?   And what can the case of Coral Eugene Watts teach us about writing?   

Examine closely the case of Coral Eugene Watts, and you will see what happens when process is given priority over truth - when balance is lost, and process becomes all-important.  While a strong, rigorous process can reveal hidden truths, it can just as easily distract and mislead.  Sometimes, it can even become an excuse.  Of course, our justice system has a duty to ensure due process, but we can still use this case as a metaphor for creative process gone awry. 

Here is a brief summary of the case:

In 1982, Coral Eugene Watts struck a plea deal with Texas prosecutors and was handed a 60-year sentence for burglary with intent to murder.  In a brutal assault, he had strangled Lori Lister in the parking lot of her apartment building and dragged her upstairs to her door.  Once inside, he strangled her roommate, Melinda Aguilar, and tied her hands behind her back with closet hangers.  After laying Melinda's limp body on her bed, he proceeded to fill the bathtub - in preparation for drownings.  Little did he know, Melinda was only pretending to be unconscious; she was actually plotting her escape. 

Had Melinda not leapt - hands still tied behind her back - from her second-story apartment balcony and cried for help, Watts would have drowned both her and Lori. 

During questioning for the Lister/Aguilar attacks, Watts revealed that he had killed up to 80 other people.   But even still, prosecutors lacked the evidence to convict him for those murders.  They wanted closure, and Watts would only confess under an immunity agreement.   As part of a plea bargain, Watts was granted immunity in 12 murder cases - 11 in Texas and 1 in Michigan.  He led them to several bodies and revealed how his victims were killed.   

In 1989, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals reviewed Watts' case.  At issue was whether the judge had failed to inform Watts that the bathtub was construed as a "lethal weapon" (because of his plan to drown Lori and Melinda).  Watts' lawyer argued that his client was never informed and therefore should not be considered a violent offender.  The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals agreed, and as a result, Coral was reclassified - unbelievably - as a nonviolent inmate.  This allowed him to earn "good time" credits, knocking 2-3 days off for every day served.   Instead of serving 60 years, he would serve only 22.

In other words, a confessed serial killer would be released early for good behavior.  It should also be noted, this man promised to kill again.

Prosecutors scrambled to find a way to keep him in jail, and he was eventually charged, tried, and convicted for the murder of Helen Dutcher.  For this he will serve life in prison without the possibility of parole.   Were he not convicted in that case, he would walk free in May 2006. 

So what we have here is a case where the truth - that this man was a confessed serial killer who promised to kill again - was subservient to process.  It was more important that Watts be informed about the bathtub's status as "lethal weapon" than that he had confessed to brutally murdering 12 women (and by his own count, had killed even more.)

Sometimes, when I am writing, I have a hard time letting go of process.  I want to work through my ideas in a rigorous, forensic, trial-like way.  But how many truths are lost when the process is too strict?  Is there a way to balance the need for due process with the need for truth?