Execution of Steven Oken, July 17, 2004, by Rachel Good

From MemoryArchive

Who: Rachel Good
What: Execution of Steven Oken
When: July 17, 2004
Where: Baltimore, Maryland

Steven Oken brutally raped, tortured, and killed three young women in the first two weeks of November 1987. Dawn Marie Garvin, a daughter, sister, and wife; Patricia Hirt, Steven’s sister-in-law; and Lori Ward, a college student, had their lives unfairly taken at the hands of Steven Oken. On an alcohol and cocaine induced frenzy, Steven murdered these three women in a multi-state killing spree beginning in Maryland and ending in Maine. The details of these murders are horrific, disgusting, and tragic. What Steven Oken did to these women is beyond contemplation and for most beyond forgiveness. During the summer of 2004, I spent the majority of my time outside of work trying to save Steven Oken from being executed by the state of Maryland. When Steven, a man I never met, was killed on the evening of June 17th, my life was transformed. In the months and weeks leading up to Steven’s execution, I knew that something was happening to me and more specifically to my views on the world. The struggle to save Steven from execution is representative of the larger abolitionist movement going on in America today. I feel that the events surrounding Steven’s execution are important to record. Hopefully, the death penalty will one day be abolished in the United States and this memoir can serve as testament to the hard work of countless individuals. As I discovered working on Steven’s case, the struggle on behalf of death row inmates is a soul searching experience and I believe it is important to recognize the emotional turmoil of those working to abolish the death penalty.

My plan for the summer of 2004 was to work, sit by my pool, and read trashy chic-lit, but a good friend of mine had other plans in store for me. My work on Steven’s case began simply enough when my friend called to ask me to help pass out flyers regarding someone on Maryland’s death row. I was really hesitant to do this because it would require traveling Takoma Park, Maryland after a full day of work. My friend kept calling me and soon enough I was traveling to Takoma Park after work with a group of other abolitionists. We handed out flyers and had people sign petitions opposing Steven’s impending execution. Doing work like this was nothing new and at that point in time I was not too dedicated to Steven’s case. I realized that Steven Oken was a guilty man. I was disgusted by what he had done to the young women, but I firmly believed that the death penalty was wrong in all cases. I was able to communicate my abstract views on the death penalty and its injustices to the people I handed flyers. Still, I did not want to become overly involved with a man who had killed three women—two of them my age at the time of their deaths.

When I was first asked to protest outside of the Supermax facility in Baltimore where Steven was being held, I was unsure that I really wanted to go. I believed that Steven should not be killed for what he had done, but I still was intimidated by his crimes. I questioned myself and my beliefs. Did I really want to fight for a guilty man’s life? I realized that Steven was not his crimes, he was a person—a very troubled person, but a human being who did not deserve to die. I decided to take part in the protest outside of the Baltimore Supermax.

The day I protested outside and around Baltimore’s Supermax it was pouring down rain. I met up with other protesters as the Takoma Park metro stop. A bus was picking us up from the metro to take us to Baltimore. While waiting for the bus we sat on the floor of the metro making signs to hold during the protest. Eventually the bus came and we road in the rain to Baltimore.

When we reached the area near the Supermax, I was surprised that the area was rather dilapidated. I was also startled to realize that the prison was in a very urban setting. After taking in the surroundings, we began to organize for our march. About forty-five people attended the march. We walked seven blocks through the streets of Baltimore chanting One, two, three, four! It’s racist, cruel and anti-poor! Five, six, seven, eight! Stop the killing by the state! and Death Row! Hell No! We reached the Supermax we marched around its outside three or four times before stopping in the parking lot for a rally. I remember seeing the prison guards switching shifts during our march. They were walking in and out of the prison just staring at us. I can only imagine what they thought of us. I remember thinking that the seeing us was a good thing, maybe the prisoners on the inside would get word that there were people on the outside standing up for their rights.

On that dreary day, Steven’s parents, David and Davida Oken came to the rally to thank us for our efforts to save their son’s life. They shared with us their grief, tears, and thanks. Also, they told us about Steven’s childhood as an adopted son, his lifelong mental problems, and his drug abuse that began at an early age. From hearing his parent’s talk it became obvious that Steven had been a deeply troubled person who for some reason did not respond to the help that his parents and many others tried to give him. Nothing can excuse Steven’s actions, but hearing his parent speak I was able to see Steven as person, not an animal or a murderer. I decided to continue visiting and protesting outside the Supermax, if for no other reason than to show his parents that people were willing to fight for their son.

Steven’s death warrant had been signed on April, 26 for the week of June 14, 2004. In Maryland execution warrants are signed for a week long period; therefore, the execution can happen on any day at any time without any public announcement. Fortunately, the movement I was apart of had a close relationship with Steven’s attorneys who were constantly updating us on his last minute appeals. It looked as if Steven’s execution would be on the evening of the July 16. So, beginning on Tuesday the 15th I traveled to Baltimore after work for three straight days. On Tuesday, Steven was granted a stay of execution by a US District Court judge. We were all ecstatic, deliriously hoping that Steven would not be executed. On Wednesday the 16th, the day Steven was originally supposed to be executed, a federal appellate court upheld the stay of execution. Again, everyone was so happy. Since this was the second court to uphold the stay, we thought we stood more than a fighting chance. Yet, only eight hours after the appellate court’s ruling the US Supreme Court reversed the decision and cleared the way for Steven’s execution. On Thursday, June 17th, Governor Ehrlich denied Steven’s appeal for clemency and the execution was set for that evening.

In the two days leading up to Steven’s execution, I experienced a ground swell of emotion. On Tuesday, July 15th, the inmates inside the walls of Baltimore’s Supermax facility began chanting along with us to “Save Steven Oken.” To hear these inmates join us in our pleas for mercy was mind blowing and completely invigorating. If nothing else, these men knew that they were not alone, that they were not worthless, and that people were willing to stand outside in a dark, rainy night protesting for their rights. I was completed pumped up and ready to keep fighting for Steven.

The next day, Wednesday, I had a completely different experience outside the prison. I was put into close contact with the victim’s family members and my interactions with them left me upset, confused, and disgusted. The pro-death penalty groups were placed directly across the street from us and not separated as they were supposed to be. On prior days they were placed a block away on another corner so that neither group could see the other. However, on this day we were so close (too close) to each other. I do not know what I expected out of the family members. I think that I expected the families to have signs or posters of their lost loved ones and prayers in their remembrance. Instead, the family members carried signs such as “Fry Steven Oken” while flailing around rubber chickens. Dawn Garvin’s brother wore a noose around his neck and screamed “Hang the Bastard.” They parked an SUV that was covered with pro-death statements, URLs for pro-death penalty web sites, and sayings such as “Give Oken the Juice.” When they heard that the Supreme Court overturned Steven’s stay they cheered and began singing “na, na, na, na, hey, hey, goodbye.” I was completely disgusted. I could not, and still cannot, view their reactions as normal. Their hate, anger, and violent behavior scared me. The past 17 years of their lives had not been dedicated to healing the wounds caused by their loved ones’ murders. Instead, for the past 17 years they focused on the death of Steven Oken. They believed that this one man’s execution would suddenly lift the anger and hurt caused by the loss of their loved ones. Seeing this hatred convinced me that killing someone for killing someone does not heal wounds, does not bring back a loved one, and is not justice for anyone. Instead, it fuels a cycle of hatred and death.

On June 17, the night Steven was executed, I stood with fifty other people outside the Baltimore Supermax. Peacefully gathering, we had stopped our chants and began to discuss amongst ourselves what was about to occur. Despite our peaceful nature, five police cars were parked across the street from us. There were also two mounted police officers. This surprised me because for the entire time we had been outside the Supermax that summer nothing remotely violent had happened. Ignoring the police, we began to prepare for what was now the inevitable. I remember thinking of a story Steven’s lawyer about what Steven wanted him to say on the night of his execution. The lawyer said that Steven wanted him to say, “Guess what Steve? I have great news!” Then Steven would reply, “You got me a stay?” His lawyer was supposed to respond, “No, but I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.” This story reminded me of Steven’s humanity and strength. Ten minutes before the execution we began singing hymns. At 9:00 pm we lit candles and went silent. I remember hugging my one friend who was moved to tears. Prison officials eventually came out to us and announced that at 9:18 pm Steven Oken was officially declared dead.

I did feel sadness when Steven’s death was announced, but the feeling of complete helpless was so much stronger. This great injustice had just occurred and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it from happening. I was confused. What did our actions accomplish? What did this prove? Was the world any safer with Steven Oken dead? Yet, standing outside in the windy night, trying to keep my candle aflame, I realized that I had made a bold statement. I realized that I was standing up and saying, “No this is wrong. Human life is more valuable than this. No one deserves to die for their actions, no matter how wrong, no matter how disgusting.”

The hardest part of the fight was when I was forced to admit to myself that I valued the life of Steven Oken, a multiple murder. It was difficult to call my mother and father late in the evening on the June 17th and cry over the execution of a mass murderer. I was ashamed that I was crying over a person that the majority of society viewed as subhuman. But, I was reassured when my mother said that she admired what I had done and my ability to stand up for my convictions. It is easy to say you are against the death penalty because innocent people are condemned to die or because it is racist and targets the poor. It is an entirely different matter when you say you are against the death penalty and willing to fight for the life of a guilty, white, wealthy man. As a person, I have new found respect for all human life and I am willing to take direct action to protect it. My good friend, the one who convinced me to become involved in Steven’s case, said on the night he was executed, “Tonight the state extinguished a life, but it ignited a flame in each of us.” I will carry the flame ignited in me on that night with me forever.

External Links

• News Paper Articles and Case History
• Interview with Davida Oken, Steven's mother
• The Fight to Save Steven
• Washington Post Article about Oken's Execution