For members of any family, an order of execution issued by a judge for a loved one is devastating news – it’s catastrophic to learn that someone you have known all your life is going to be killed by the state.
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That’s what happened to my family when, on March 31, 2005, Terri Schiavo died as a result of Florida probate judge George W. Greer’s ruling to sentence my sister to death.
Her crime? She was profoundly brain injured, could not speak or fend for herself and had a loving family that wanted, more than anything, to just bring her home and care for her until her natural death.
But death sentences, once issued, are difficult to overturn – even when the person marked for death has never committed a crime.
On Feb. 25, 1990, my beloved sister collapsed in her home and experienced a significant brain injury after going into cardiac arrest.
For several years she underwent rehabilitative therapy and was physically stable, needing no medical treatment other than to be fed and hydrated. We loved her as she was, understanding that she had joined the ranks of hundreds of thousands of other Americans who are challenged by a severe neurological disability.
Just a short time after Terri’s collapse, however, we learned that Terri was no longer receiving therapy but was instead being warehoused bereft of the care that she needed. We spent years wrangling with her then-husband to restore her rehabilitation care and for her to be released to us.
We wanted to bring her home, where she was loved and would receive the therapy she so desperately needed.
It was not to be.
Instead, after Judge Greer’s decree that her feeding and hydration supply should be ended, we watched her starve and dehydrate to death.
We were there. We watched her die of thirst, surrounded by vigilant law enforcement officers tasked with ensuring that we didn’t try to comfort her by wetting her parched, cracked and bleeding lips.
It took almost two weeks – a slow death that would never be considered for even the vilest criminal.
Even the most heinous villains get a last meal and something to drink.
That was eight years ago. We remember it as if it was yesterday.
Full Article and Source:
Remembering My Sister, Terri Schiavo; Her Death was Just the Beginning![]()
That’s what happened to my family when, on March 31, 2005, Terri Schiavo died as a result of Florida probate judge George W. Greer’s ruling to sentence my sister to death.
Her crime? She was profoundly brain injured, could not speak or fend for herself and had a loving family that wanted, more than anything, to just bring her home and care for her until her natural death.
But death sentences, once issued, are difficult to overturn – even when the person marked for death has never committed a crime.
On Feb. 25, 1990, my beloved sister collapsed in her home and experienced a significant brain injury after going into cardiac arrest.
For several years she underwent rehabilitative therapy and was physically stable, needing no medical treatment other than to be fed and hydrated. We loved her as she was, understanding that she had joined the ranks of hundreds of thousands of other Americans who are challenged by a severe neurological disability.
Just a short time after Terri’s collapse, however, we learned that Terri was no longer receiving therapy but was instead being warehoused bereft of the care that she needed. We spent years wrangling with her then-husband to restore her rehabilitation care and for her to be released to us.
We wanted to bring her home, where she was loved and would receive the therapy she so desperately needed.
It was not to be.
Instead, after Judge Greer’s decree that her feeding and hydration supply should be ended, we watched her starve and dehydrate to death.
We were there. We watched her die of thirst, surrounded by vigilant law enforcement officers tasked with ensuring that we didn’t try to comfort her by wetting her parched, cracked and bleeding lips.
It took almost two weeks – a slow death that would never be considered for even the vilest criminal.
Even the most heinous villains get a last meal and something to drink.
That was eight years ago. We remember it as if it was yesterday.
Full Article and Source:
Remembering My Sister, Terri Schiavo; Her Death was Just the Beginning