By Marc Klaas

After members of the jury cried upon looking at pictures of Polly’s remains, defense attorney Barry Collins suggested that compromised jury members may not be able to impartially fulfill their duties. Judge Hastings countered that an emotional reaction is not unusual upon viewing such photos for the first time.

My family grieves over the loss of Polly in a predictable fashion. The women tend to cry more than the men. My wife Violet still cries several times a week, particularly at night. That does not mean that the pain is less, or that men care less. It only means that different people react to the same event in different ways. That some jury members were outwardly more emotional upon viewing death photos only means that they are human beings who react normally when civilized standards are assaulted by a continual diet of nightmarish information.

Finally, the taped confession is over. We’ve heard enough of the abrasive voice and profane language of the killer. Of the 212 times he uses the “F” word, he concentrates profanity most often during the initial whining confession to Mike Meese. The emotionally bankrupt killer is most concerned with his reception by the other inmates when he goes home. Initially he denies involvement: "I never kidnapped that little f****** broad. Get real. It's a sick f****** crime. Rape, whatever you want to call it. It's a coward's crime. It's the work of some sick f***." Later, "It's a callous crime. Rape and s*** like that. It's not my kind of crime." Several times the killer says, “I can’t go back to the joint as a child molester.” This remorseless, self absorbed little man does not comprehend the depravity of his crimes.

Davis doesn’t understand the value of life and nothing drives that lesson home more profoundly than the loss of life. Only when he faces his own mortality will the killer comprehend this fundamental truth. I suspect he will receive enlightenment as he is led to the his own execution. This is one reason he deserves to die.

At the conclusion of court today, the killer rose, turned toward me and stared. I reciprocated and gazed into the empty eyes of death. For several seconds our eyes locked. Then the smiling killer looked away. I hope he is trying to intimidate me or he is feeling trapped and trying to produce a mis-trial by causing me to react in open court. He is weak and he is afraid.

Someday, I hope to fix my eyes upon the killer as they pump lethal drugs into his veins in San Quentin’s death chamber. Only this time I will smile, because he will finally get what he deserves, and learn the most important lesson of all.