Killer’s Execution Ends Odyssey for Son of Victim

Vitoon Harusadangkul watched silently from outside the San Quentin prison death chamber early Tuesday as Jaturun “Jay” Siripongs was executed by lethal injection for murdering Harusadangkul’s mother and another person. He was a late-coming participant in a bitterly fought legal saga.

For years since the 1981 murders, the 31-year-old computer programmer tried to put the gruesome crimes behind him, going to boarding school out of state and eventually settling in Virginia.

But in November, after Siripongs won an unexpected reprieve from execution, Harusadangkul decided to get involved.

“I was sick of him playing games with the law. I wanted to do something,” he said. “I made a conscious effort to fight this time. . . . I will never get over the pain of separation from my mother.”

Harusadangkul traveled to California and testified last week in favor of execution before a state prison panel. Gov. Gray Davis cited his testimony in rejecting clemency for the onetime monk who killed Pat Wattanaporn and Quach Nguyen.

In the end, his stand clashed with the position taken by other family members.

His half-brother and stepfather--who owned the Garden Grove market that Siripongs robbed--called for clemency, saying capital punishment was against Buddhist teachings.

“My God will decide. It’s not something I should,” said his half-brother, Chris Wattanaporn, 18, hours before the execution.

Harusadangkul’s stand won praise from prosecutors, who said his efforts helped seal Siripongs’ fate.

Jim Tanizaki, the Orange County deputy district attorney who handled the case, sat next to Harusadangkul early Tuesday as Siripongs was executed, occasionally placing a hand on his leg in a gesture of support.

“It was a bittersweet, emotional roller coaster ride for him,” the prosecutor said. “He thought often of his mother. He felt comfortable that she would be approving of his presence and his support for Siripongs’ execution.”

Harusadangkul was one of 40 people, including Siripongs’ sister, state officials and prosecutors, who looked on as the poison mix of chemicals was injected into Siripongs’ body, inducing sleep and then the paralysis that stopped his heart within 14 minutes.

Strapped to a padded gurney, two intravenous tubes stuck into his arms, Siripongs appeared oblivious to the crowd gathered outside the death chamber.

He lay still, his eyes closed, seemingly at peace with his fate.

The serene attitude was met with silence from the witnesses. Siripongs’ sister, a Los Angeles woman who emigrated from Thailand after her brother and was his only relative to witness the execution, watched stoically.

Siripongs, clad in blue denim trousers and a work shirt, made only one movement while the poison trickled through his veins. A few minutes after the injection, he thrust his head back after a brief shudder and opened his mouth in a gasp for air. Then his head dropped again.

The execution came after attorneys for Siripongs exhausted all court appeals in their campaign to have the death sentence commuted.

Efforts to spare his life were supported by several unlikely sources, including a former San Quentin prison warden and two former jurors who had recommended the death penalty. None of them contested Siripongs’ guilt but said his sentence should be reduced to life in prison because of his exemplary prison record and his troubled upbringing.

Late Monday, Pope John Paul II joined the pleas for clemency. In a letter to Davis on the pope’s behalf, the Vatican’s ambassador to the United States urged “a gesture of mercy that would certainly contribute to the promotion of nonviolence in today’s society.”

Prosecutors, however, called the evidence against Siripongs overwhelming and his acts callous.

Tanizaki called it a humane execution process that afforded Siripongs the opportunity to spend time with friends and relatives in the hours before dying. “Contrast that to the violent deaths of Pat [Wattanaporn] and Quach [Nguyen], whose families never had the chance,” he said.

But supporters said Siripongs’ death was a waste. “We feel that it’s a gross human rights violation,” said Kristen Skinner, a member of the Death Penalty Focus organization.

But none of that rancor was evident inside the prison’s execution viewing room early Tuesday. Among the people witnessing the execution, only Harusadangkul showed emotion, fighting back tears at one point and lifting his head.

He was escorted out of the prison immediately after officials pronounced Siripongs dead. A few hours earlier, he expressed hope that the execution would bring his family closure.

“We want this chapter finished once and for all,” he said.