A Personal Tribute to Bill Pelke
I first came to know Bill Pelke when I read about him in the newspaper. He was reportedly traveling the country speaking out to save the life of Paula Cooper, a 16-year-old Indiana girl, who murdered his grandmother.
The troubled Paula Cooper was among a group of girls who gained entry to his grandmother's home by pretending that they wanted Bible lessons. Bill Pelke would share the story of his literal conversion and conviction against the death penalty many times. Each time I heard the story it brought me to tears: Bill was a steel worker. He was riding up in an elevator on the way to a job. Suddenly he saw or felt the presence of his grandmother. He knew at that moment what his grandmother, a devout Christian, would want him to do: she would want him to forgive Paula Cooper. And so, he did. From then on, he worked tirelessly to save her life and more than once.
Bill Pelke traveled the country telling his story and the story of his grandmother until finally the state of Indiana spared Paula's life — sentencing the teenager to 40 years in prison. Even when Paula was safe from execution, Bill Pelke's work did not end. In addition to his national work against the death penalty– founding the Journey of Hope and tours across the country; writing a book; the annual Fast and Vigil; television and radio appearances; documentaries and state and federal advocacy– Bill continued to mentor, pray for and support Paula Cooper throughout her incarceration. With Bill's help, that of others, and her own hard work, Paula educated herself and grew into a poised young woman who took responsibility for the harm she had caused.
As Paula neared the end of her incarceration, Bill devoted himself to ensuring that Paula would be safe when she was released. He recognized that the sad circumstances that had led Paula to prison were waiting for her. I remember speaking once to one of her attorneys when Paula was still on death row waiting to be executed. I asked: " How is Paula doing?" I was stunned when the lawyer responded: " she's safer than she has ever been in her life." Imagine that the conditions on death row could be an improvement in a teenager's life. Bill Pelke understood and he put that understanding into action.
I remember having a conversation with Bill about Paula Cooper after a Board meeting. He had wanted to talk to me about his plans to provide Paula with the safety and support she would need to survive and thrive on the outside. He wanted to make sure she had a safe place to live and that she could find a job. He wanted to protect her from the things that could all too quickly undo the good work she had done in prison to educate herself and to develop the emotional and practical tools that most of us take for granted.
I remember thinking at the time, that I thought I knew Bill Pelke but really did not. I thought I knew that Bill was a good man. But this kind of good man; this kind of good person was something else. Bill was a person who committed himself to the work — the hard and painful work of trying to heal a broken person; a broken person who had wronged him grievously. This was an entirely different kind of man.
Sadly, the fortress of support that Bill Pelke tried to fashion for Paula Cooper did not hold against the forces determined to undo her. She died tragically. I spoke to Bill when I learned what had happened and he was heartbroken.
I do not praise Bill Pelke to make him an example of a "good survivor" of homicide and to make all others bad. I have worked with and listened to survivors of homicide enough to understand that we do terrible harm to all survivors when we put survivors in boxes. We compound the pain when we favor survivors who agree with us and denigrate others. Survivors of homicide are not required to forgive the people who hurt them. They are not required to try to save the perpetrator's life. Whatever survivors feel about the death penalty and what happens to the person who harmed them is how they feel. There are no right and wrong survivors. As a society we offer homicide survivors and other victims of crime too little in the way of healing and tangible support. Society picks and chooses which victims are good and which victims are bad. Society chooses which victims are deserving of our concern and which victims and survivors do not matter at all. We invest too little proactively in education, housing, ending poverty and mental health treatment and support– concrete things that make communities healthier, more prosperous, and safer.
Bill Pelke was not a good man because he saved Paula Cooper's life once and tried to save it again. Bill Pelke was a good man because he lived and embodied every ounce of his faith and he put that faith into action. I would think about Bill Pelke many times over the years as I took umbrage at some slight or annoyance from a colleague or co-worker. Often, the thought of Bill's equanimity would bring me back to my center of balance.
Bill Pelke's vision for the Journey of Hope was to expand our understanding and embrace of Restorative Justice. He acknowledged the pain of loss and looked to see what could be done to heal the individuals involved and the community. Bill understood the importance of community and fellowship in a way that I have only lately come to fully understand. He understood the importance of bringing people together: survivors of homicide; death row survivors and their families and local communities. He understood the healing, cathartic and instructive power and importance of storytelling.
We have an opportunity to remember Bill Pelke by rededicating ourselves to his vision– not only by ending the death penalty but by transforming the way that we respond to violence with a focus on healing, accountability and restoration. Bill Pelke understood that responding to suffering by piling on more suffering was a prescription for more suffering in the world. He understood that you address suffering by doing what you can to stop the suffering in your path– the suffering that is closest to you.
Bill Pelke showed this by his extraordinary, humble example. May he rest in power and may those of us left behind work to bring his vision to fruition.
Be at peace dear brother, sleep.
Diann Rust-Tierney
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