Crime & forgiveness

He spends a lot of time in the education library of the North Dakota state penitentiary, typing out letters to newspaper editors and suggesting that perhaps someone - anyone - might want to come listen to his story and write a different ending. Those with long memories might recall the outlines: It was on a spring day in 1992 when a top Exxon executive, Sidney Reso, was kidnapped outside his New Jersey home. He was shackled, gagged, placed in a wooden box and "stored" in a self-storage locker. The kidnappers demanded $18 million in ransom money and led the police on a seven-week chase before being caught. By then Reso, having suffered a heart attack, was long dead.

Arthur Seale, a prep school boy and ex-cop who had once worked as a security expert at Exxon and then fallen on hard times, pleaded guilty, as did his wife Jackie, a former Boston University homecoming queen.

Mr. Seale was sentenced to life plus 125 years in jail, without possibility of parole. At the time he was 46 years old, depressed, and - by his own description - delusional.

Since then, Seale has done much to rehabilitate himself: He completed an undergraduate degree, and earned an MA and then a PhD in psychological counseling through correspondence courses. He tutors other prisoners, submits opinion pieces on prison reform to newspapers, participates in Quaker seminars on alternatives to violence, and is involved in trying to reach out and offer restitution to victims through restorative justice programs.

And now he talks of redemption. He craves some recognition for this change - some sort of forgiveness, especially from those he has sinned against.

Forgiveness: It's one of the most emotional of all topics connected with the criminal justice system. Can a man like Seale - who, as part of a calculated scheme to enrich himself, killed a man who was also a husband, son, father, and grandfather - ever expect any form of forgiveness? Can he earn it? Should his victims be encouraged to give it? And, does he, or any other criminal, need that forgiveness to fully become a better, changed person?

Seale will never get out of prison, and he says he is resigned to that. But he refuses to accept that, as a human being, he is no more than the sum total of his worst act.

"I can never undo deeds done, but I am trying to make myself into a decent, good person," he says, parting his blond hair, his pale hands slightly trembling in the cold, empty visitors' room of the penitentiary. "I think there is a point, which I have reached, where I am no longer the person who committed that crime. I certainly think and act differently now."

"People should be judged by the totality of their lives," he suggests. "I'm not saying I don't deserve my punishment. But I want to be considered as more than just the kidnapper and murderer of Sidney Reso."

Studies show that forgiveness can be a strong agent for healing for both sides. Society generally seems eager to celebrate those who have been able to forgive. And those who have committed offenses often crave forgiveness above all else.

Earlier this month, in an unusual turn of events, a group of murderers on death row raised $10,000 in scholarship money for a Texas man who had expressed compassion for his father's murderer.

At the same time, academics are taking a new interest in the topic, with departments of "forgiveness studies" springing up at a number of universities where researchers track the benefits of forgiveness to both society and individuals.

And yet, experts stress, forgiveness does not necessarily come easily, or quickly. Sometimes it does not come at all - and it should not, as such, be the focus of the offender's efforts.

Page: 1 | 2 | 3