This story was commissioned by the as part of its series , which considers St. Louis County鈥檚 use of the death penalty.
The Gospel of John tells of Jesus chastising a crowd intent on stoning a woman to death. 鈥淗e that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her,鈥 the Bible records him saying.
The oft-quoted verse emphasizes a modern-day conundrum: Since everyone has sinned, no one is qualified to throw stones. That maxim could be applied today to a system driven by human flaws that sentences people to death, sometimes even when they鈥檙e innocent.
According to the nonprofit Death Penalty Information Center, since 1973 at least 190 people who were sentenced to death in the U.S. have been exonerated.
The center states, 鈥淕iven the fallibility of human judgment, there has always been the danger that an execution could result in the killing of an innocent person.鈥
One Missouri case seems to be a textbook example of a perilously imperfect system where a defendant鈥檚 race and socioeconomic status, coupled with prosecutors all too eager to get a conviction, led to an unjust death sentence.
Consider the story of death-row inmate Marcellus Williams.
On a warm, 72-degree night on August 11, 1998, Dr. Daniel Picus arrived at his gated University City home to a horrific scene. He found the lifeless body of his wife, Felicia Gayle. She had been stabbed 43 times with a butcher鈥檚 knife.
By all accounts, the victim was a model citizen. Felicia (also known as Lisha) Gayle had been a St. Louis Post-Dispatch reporter. She left the newspaper in 1992 to pursue full-time volunteer work. The newspaper later described Gayle as 鈥渁 kind and gentle woman who went out of her way to do nice things for people.鈥
Although Picus put up a $10,000 reward for anyone with information about his wife鈥檚 murder, the case went unsolved for almost a year. Then a man named Henry Cole was released from jail in June 1999. He went to University City police and told them that a man he shared a cell with had admitted the crime to him.
That alleged confessor was Marcellus Williams.
Laura Asaro, Williams鈥 former girlfriend, claimed he had admitted the murder to her, too. Asaro directed police to the Buick LeSabre she said Williams had driven the day of the crime. In the trunk, detectives found Gayle鈥檚 ruler and calculator. Police were also able to recover Picus鈥 laptop from a man who said Williams had sold it to him.
Williams was no stranger to the criminal justice system. He had been previously convicted for burglary. At the time he was charged for Gayle鈥檚 murder, the 29-year-old was serving time for armed robbery of a fast-food restaurant.
At Williams鈥 2001 trial, prosecutors alleged that Williams was burgling Gayle鈥檚 home when she discovered him and, in response, he stabbed her repeatedly.
The jury deliberated less than two hours before finding Williams guilty. They recommended a death sentence. The judge also ordered Williams to serve consecutive terms of life in prison for robbery, 30 years for burglary and 30 years each for two weapons violations.
In time, the date of his execution was set: January 2015.
The reveal of the appeals
The appeals process began shortly after Williams鈥 conviction. His appellate lawyers, Kent Gipson and Laurence Komp, challenged the trial, the conviction and the sentence. They argued that newly uncovered evidence cast further doubt on Williams鈥 guilt.
The Missouri Supreme Court denied Williams鈥 appeal in 2003. Two years later, in 2005, the same court denied a second appeal. In 2008, a federal judge in St. Louis denied his claims, too.
Gipson and Komp then asked the U.S. Supreme Court to order the Missouri Supreme Court to hear new evidence in the case. The petition gave several justifications for the request, including the denial of 鈥減ost-conviction discovery鈥 requests that 鈥渟ought further DNA testing to help establish his innocence.鈥
Williams鈥 lawyers included evidence about Debra McClain 鈥 a woman murdered just one month before Gayle in the adjoining suburb of Pagedale in a strikingly similar way. McClain was also stabbed repeatedly, also with a weapon that came from her own kitchen. In both cases, the assailant left the weapon behind.
The lawyers felt that comparing DNA evidence related to the unsolved murder with forensic evidence from Gayle鈥檚 killing might prove Williams鈥 innocence. Their request was summarily denied.
Then, in January 2015, the Missouri Supreme Court delayed Williams鈥 execution to allow for further DNA testing. In an interview with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Gipson expressed his desire that DNA testing and 鈥渃omparison of any resulting DNA from the Pagedale murder, could reveal evidence that would prove Williams innocent.鈥
Gipson and Komp also alleged misconduct on the part of prosecutors 鈥 and defense lawyers who failed to do their jobs. They noted that Williams鈥 trial lawyers hadn鈥檛 fully vetted the witnesses against him. The pair had admitted they weren鈥檛 prepared for the trial. In fact, they wrote, one defense attorney had sought to push Williams鈥 trial back because he was involved in another capital murder case just one month before.
As for the prosecutors, Gipson and Komp noted that they only turned over arrest and conviction records for Cole and Asaro two days before the trial started. They also failed to disclose information and records 鈥 including drug treatment, mental health, and prison and jail records 鈥 that could have cast doubt on the witnesses鈥 testimony.
Debunking key witnesses
In their appeal, Gipson and Komp stressed that prosecutors didn鈥檛 volunteer all they knew about their witnesses鈥 histories.
Gipson and Komp described Henry Cole as a 鈥渃areer criminal with convictions dating back 30 years鈥 who would 鈥渟ay anything for money.鈥 They detailed a long history of mental illness that jurors didn鈥檛 hear during Williams鈥 trial. Members of Cole鈥檚 family recounted how he suffered from 鈥渁uditory hallucinations鈥 when he failed to take his psychiatric medications.
Testimonies gathered from Cole鈥檚 relatives confirmed his reputation for 鈥減roviding false information to the police in exchange for leniency.鈥 In one case, the lawyers wrote that Cole 鈥渟erved as an informant against his own son 鈥 to get a deal from authorities.鈥
The lawyers also chipped away at the testimony of the other state witness, Laura Asaro, whom they called a 鈥渃rack-addicted prostitute.鈥 For example, Asaro told police and prosecutors that she saw a purse containing Gayle鈥檚 state identification card in the trunk of Williams鈥 car. That ID, however, was found in Gayle鈥檚 home.
Williams鈥 lawyers argued that Asaro only agreed to testify against Williams in exchange for the dismissal of outstanding warrants against her and a portion of the reward money. The lawyers found witnesses who testified that Asaro was a 鈥渒nown police informant鈥 with a 鈥減attern of lying to police to get herself out of trouble.鈥
The witnesses said Asaro admitted to setting up Williams to get the $10,000 reward. Asaro, the lawyers added, 鈥渄esperately needed this money to feed her crack cocaine addiction, and she had made prior false allegations against others.鈥
On the issue of the car Asaro told police Williams drove on the day of the murder, multiple witnesses, including Asaro鈥檚 own mother, alleged she lied. Each witness testified that Williams鈥 car was inoperable when Gayle was killed. Gipson and Komp contended that Asaro (who had keys to Williams鈥 car after his arrest) or the police could have planted Gayle鈥檚 possessions in Williams鈥 automobile.
The National Registry of Exonerations has comprehensive research on people who鈥檝e been exonerated since 1989. The agency鈥檚 stated goal is to 鈥減revent future false convictions by learning from past errors.鈥
Of special focus: testimony by jailhouse informants claiming someone confessed to them while in custody.
鈥淛ailhouse snitch testimony, as it is commonly known, is notoriously unreliable because the incarcerated witnesses are strongly motivated to say what the prosecution wants, usually because they get substantial reductions in their own sentences in return,鈥 the site notes.
Eight percent of all exonerees in the registry were convicted in part by testimony from jailhouse informants, the agency states. Additionally, it added this:
鈥淎mong murders, the more extreme the punishment, the more likely we are to see a jailhouse informant, ranging from 23 percent of exonerations with death sentences to 10 percent of murder cases in which the defendant received a sentence less than life in prison.鈥
The advent of DNA evidence
It was a decade before Gayle鈥檚 murder that DNA technology was first introduced as evidence in court cases. With it, forensic genealogists and practitioners were able to help solve criminal cases that had gone cold. They also found hundreds of innocent people who鈥檇 been wrongfully convicted.
Tricia Rojo Bushnell, executive director of the Midwest Innocence Project, has spent more than 15 years working on wrongful convictions as both an attorney and law professor. Last year, while serving as an expert witness in a Kansas City death-penalty case, Bushnell addressed how DNA-based evidence has shaken the system. A total of 551 people sent to prison have now been proven innocent thanks to DNA analysis, she wrote.
Even so, she said, in many cases DNA isn鈥檛 available 鈥 and the legal hoops to get to exoneration entail a costly, complicated process. Since that first DNA-based exoneration in 1989, nine people have been executed for every exoneration.
Experts believe many more innocent people are serving time. Bushnell refers to the number of wrongfully convicted people still in prison as a 鈥渄ark number鈥 鈥 there鈥檚 no way to know just how many people fall in that category. A study published in the National Academy of Sciences that she finds credible suggests it鈥檚 likely around 4.1 percent of all death-penalty cases.
Williams鈥 lawyers have sought to show that he鈥檚 in that number.
The appellate lawyers retained experts to examine forensic evidence from the murder victim and her residence. The experts concluded that DNA testing conducted in December 2016 on the murder weapon actually excluded Williams as the contributor of the male DNA found on the knife.
One of those experts, biologist Greg Hampikian, graphically explained how DNA is transferred during a murder like Gayle鈥檚.
鈥淲hen you鈥檙e stabbing, DNA transfers because of restriction and force,鈥 Hampikian told CNN, adding, 鈥淚f you鈥檙e stabbing anyone, you have a good chance of transferring your DNA because of that force.鈥
The DNA on the knife 鈥渋sn鈥檛 enough to incriminate someone, but it is enough to exclude somebody,鈥 Hampikian said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like finding a Social Security card with some blurred numbers. There鈥檚 still enough there to at least exclude someone.鈥
Further complicating the prosecution narrative, the bloody footprint found at the murder scene was a different size than Williams鈥 shoe. Hair fibers found at the scene weren鈥檛 Williams鈥, Gayle鈥檚 or her husband鈥檚.
Even so, prosecutors insisted the non-DNA evidence 鈥 the laptop and the witness testimonies 鈥 was enough to carry out Williams鈥 death sentence.
In an interview with Al Jazeera, Gipson succinctly summed up the case for his client鈥檚 innocence:
鈥淭here is no physical evidence, no eyewitnesses that directly connect Williams to the murder, the DNA on the weapon wasn鈥檛 his, the bloody footprint at the murder scene wasn鈥檛 from Williams鈥 shoe and was a different size, and the hair fibers found weren鈥檛 his.
鈥淚t was someone else that killed Gayle, not Williams,鈥 Gipson said.
Race and unreason
Williams鈥 lawyers and supporters have highlighted aspects of racial bias in his case. Historically, Black defendants are much more likely to be sentenced to death than white defendants, especially if the victim was white, as Gayle was.
Williams鈥 jury consisted of 11 whites and just one Black person. This was, of course, no accident. The pool of possible jurors included seven African Americans. Prosecutors struck all but one.
In their appeal, Gipson and Komp noted the bizarre rationale behind the prosecutor鈥檚 strike of a potential Black juror named Henry Gooden. Since it鈥檚 illegal to remove jurors on the basis of race, prosecutors offered other reasons (see 鈥淏lack Juror, Bye鈥). They asserted that Gooden was struck because he wore clothes that resembled Williams鈥 attire and he worked at the post office. According to the prosecutor鈥檚 rationale, postal workers have 鈥渓iberal, political views鈥 and are inherently anti-death penalty.
In response, Williams鈥 lawyers insisted Gooden bore no resemblance to Williams, other than his skin color; that other (white) jurors who wore clothing similar to Gooden鈥檚 were not struck; that 鈥渁nother postal worker who was Caucasian was not stricken by the State and that Mr. Gooden was unequivocal in stating that he could impose a death sentence.鈥
The trial court judge ruled that prosecutors had the right to 鈥減eremptory strikes based on their hunches鈥 and their reasoning was 鈥渞ace neutral and not of pretextual nature.鈥
Under the current legal standard in the U.S., prosecutors don鈥檛 need to show that an explanation is plausible 鈥 only that it might be valid. The appellate court let the strike stand.
* * *
The American Civil Liberties Union, or ACLU, states that the 鈥渃olor of a defendant and victim鈥檚 skin plays a crucial and unacceptable role in deciding who receives the death penalty in America.鈥 According to the ACLU, 鈥淧eople of color have accounted for a disproportionate 43 percent of total executions since 1976 and 55 percent of those currently awaiting execution.鈥
Data from the National Registry of Exonerations also show that innocent Black people are about seven times more likely to be convicted of murder than innocent white people. Additionally, the agency notes, African American prisoners who are convicted of murder are about 50 percent more likely to be innocent than other convicted murderers.
According to the registry, 鈥淢any of the convictions of African American murder exonerees were affected by a wide range of types of racial discrimination, from unconscious bias and institutional discrimination to explicit racism.鈥
At a 2018 press conference in support of Williams, Cassandra Gould, a Jefferson City pastor and executive director of Missouri Faith Voices, expressed the need to examine how race and injustice are intertwined with the death penalty in the U.S.
鈥淭here are countless pools of blood that have been crying out from the ground all over America and especially in Missouri, from particularly innocent Black men who are so easily convicted and so easily sentenced to death,鈥 Gould said.
Despite new evidence, the Missouri Supreme Court ruled that Williams鈥 execution should proceed. Gipson told the Post-Dispatch that the court鈥檚 move was unprecedented.
鈥淲e petitioned the court to look at the new evidence 鈥 and less than 24 hours later they decided based on the court files that the execution should go ahead anyway.鈥
Williams was given a new execution date in 2017.
Temporary reprieve from a temporary governor
Marcellus Williams was on the sure track to death before DNA evidence interrupted his destiny. With the news of DNA evidence that seemed to exonerate Williams, the case drew national attention from anti-death penalty groups.
Attorney Barry Scheck, who defended O.J. Simpson as part of his 1994 鈥淒ream Team鈥 and cofounded the Innocence Project, joined Williams鈥 legal team. The Midwest Innocence Project launched a petition to commute Williams鈥 sentence, and Sister Helen Prejean, one of the nation鈥檚 leading anti-death-penalty advocates, became a vocal ally.
Prejean pleaded with then-Governor Eric Greitens via Twitter. 鈥淗ere鈥檚 what you can do now,鈥 she tweeted on August 16, 2017. 鈥淐all Gov. @EricGreitens at (573) 751-3222. Ask him to stop the execution scheduled for August 22.鈥
Missouri鈥檚 constitution gives the governor power to 鈥済rant reprieves, commutations and pardons, after conviction, for all offenses except treason and cases of impeachment.鈥滱 1963 state law grants governors another alternative: the authority to 鈥渁ppoint a board of inquiry whose duty it shall be to gather information, whether or not admissible in a court of law, bearing upon whether or not a person condemned to death should be executed or reprieved or pardoned, or whether the person鈥檚 sentence should be commuted.鈥
With Williams鈥 execution date looming, the Midwest Innocence Project wrote a nine-page petition to the governor asking him to appoint an independent board of inquiry.
Citing the DNA evidence that seemed to contradict Williams鈥 guilt, Greitens halted the execution and appointed a board to 鈥渃onsider all evidence presented to the jury, in addition to newly discovered DNA evidence and any other relevant evidence not available to the jury.鈥
It was a step into almost unchartered territory. Very few boards of this type had been empaneled in the 54 years since state law first allowed them.
Former Governor Mel Carnahan created two in his seven-year term. Attorney Joe Bednar, who served as Carnahan鈥檚 chief counsel, later described the boards of inquiry as 鈥渁 unique process鈥 that deals with 鈥渄ifficult and hard issues鈥 that a governor has to try to balance with justice.
Greitens鈥 order for Williams came less than five hours before Williams was scheduled to die. Williams鈥 son, Marcellus Williams Jr., told reporters he and his father had been preparing for execution.
鈥淢e and my father, we said our goodbyes. We said we loved each other, I loved him, he loved me,鈥 Williams Jr. said.
Members of the board included a host of retired judges: former circuit judges Michael David of St. Louis, Peggy Fenner of Jackson County and Ellen Roper of Boone County; former U.S. District Judge Carol Jackson; and former Missouri Court of Appeals Western District Judge Paul Spinden.
Spinden said, 鈥淥ur charge was to primarily advise the governor on his response to the petition for clemency. That, of course, entailed looking at the evidence, but the primary focus was on how [Greitens] should respond to the petition.鈥
But Greitens abruptly resigned less than a year later, before the board could present its official findings. Some advocates questioned whether Greitens might commute Williams鈥 sentence in his final week in office.
His actions suggest he was willing to allow fact-finding, but in no rush to grant Williams a reprieve. Before leaving office in June 2018, Greitens pardoned people for a range of crimes: victims who killed abusers or rapists and individuals who were given what he felt were unreasonably long sentences.
Williams did not receive a commutation.
When CBS News asked Williams Jr. his thoughts on why Greitens didn鈥檛 pardon his father, the son鈥檚 response was bitter:
鈥淗e鈥檚 like, 鈥業鈥檓 leaving, I don鈥檛 care. I do these five pardons, and Marcellus 鈥 he can rot.鈥欌
Justice delayed
It鈥檚 been five years since Greitens postponed the execution of Marcellus Williams, and yet his life still hangs in limbo. The board of inquiry submitted its findings to current Missouri Governor Mike Parson in July 2021, but he has taken no action.
Given the gravity of the case, Spinden said he鈥檚 not shocked that it鈥檚 taken Parson so long to act.
鈥淚 can鈥檛 say I鈥檓 entirely surprised. There鈥檚 not a great deal of precedent or experience with this process,鈥 he said. 鈥淭here was a complex set of facts that took us several years to wade through. So, it doesn鈥檛 surprise me that his decision has been delayed.鈥
Due to state law requiring information gathered by the board be held 鈥渂y it and the governor in strict confidence,鈥 Spinden declined to comment on the board鈥檚 findings.
Parson鈥檚 office did not respond to questions about the inquiry鈥檚 status.
Michelle Smith, director of community outreach and advocacy for Missourians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, suspects Parson鈥檚 nonaction is politically calculated.
鈥淭hat honestly is a political stand,鈥 Smith told 漏 2024 外网天堂 in August, adding, 鈥淏ecause you honestly want to come off as someone who is tough on crime, and who is going to make sure that people convicted get their punishment.鈥
Although 鈥減olitics鈥 is the job of politicians, Smith said that 鈥渏ustice鈥 should be another political requirement:
鈥淲hen an error or a mistake comes to light, it is also part of their job within justice to make sure that there aren鈥檛 innocent people sitting in prison.鈥
Smith鈥檚 comment speaks to the complications of a system that is perfectly capable of sentencing innocent people to death.
Eighteen people are currently living under death sentences in Missouri, six of them from St. Louis County. Since 1989, four persons have been exonerated from Missouri鈥檚 death row; in that same time, 92 have been executed. Of those, 35 people 鈥 or 37 percent 鈥 were Black, even though African Americans only comprise 11 percent of the state鈥檚 population.
One well-known Missouri case is that of Larry Griffin, a Black man found guilty of a 1980 drive-by murder in St. Louis. The state鈥檚 key witness would later admit he wasn鈥檛 sure if Griffin was even in the car for the shooting. Griffin was executed in 1995, prompting the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund to declare, 鈥淢issouri executed an innocent man.鈥
Harkening back to the question of who is qualified to cast stones, it is reasonable to address the possibility of wrongful executions in Missouri and throughout the nation. Prejean spoke to this topic in her book.
鈥淚f we believe that murder is wrong and not admissible in our society, then it has to be wrong for everyone, not just individuals but governments as well,鈥 Prejean wrote.
Prejean challenged people to question whether an imperfect justice system should have the power to take individuals鈥 lives 鈥 鈥渨hether we can continue to allow the government, subject as it is to every imaginable form of inefficiency and corruption, to have such power to kill.鈥
In this nation, we tolerate with pretense. We pretend there is no unconscious or intentional bias in death-penalty cases, and ignore that prosecutors and judges are capable of letting those biases overrule justice. We invent justifications for a system where witness testimony can be conveniently arranged to achieve a predestined conclusion.
Marcellus Williams remains in limbo, his death sentence on the books, the government holding his life in its hands. This takes us back to where we began this story and emphasizes a still unanswered question:
Who amongst us is qualified to cast the first stone?
For more on the River City Journalism Fund, which provided funding for this project and seeks to support local journalism in St. Louis, see .
