Dead Men Talking
Dublin Core
Title
Dead Men Talking
Subject
Corporal punishment
Corporal punishment of children--Religious aspects--Catholic Church
Description
The passionate outreach against the death penalty by Sister Helen Prejean. As a Catholic nun she details her views and advocacy for those on death row.
Creator
McCarthy, Colman
Source
Colman McCarthy, "Dead Men Talking," June 4, 1996.
Publisher
HIST 298, University of Mary Washington
Date
1996-06-04
Rights
The materials in this online collection are held by Special Collections, Simpson Library, University of Mary Washington and are available for educational use. For this purpose only, you may reproduce materials without prior permission on the condition that you provide attribution of the source.
Format
1 JPG
300 DPI
Language
English
Coverage
New Orleans, LA
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
[written in cursive, with pen, above the article]
Mike – Thought you would like to have these two articles.
[Above the title]
Colman McCarthy
[Title]
Dead Men Talking
So, after Hollywood and Susan Sarandon, the bestseller list, gigs on “Oprah” and “PrimeTime Live,” honorary degrees and more than 25 speaking invitations a week, how is Sister Helen Prejean handling celebrity? Much the way she lived with obscurity: keeping the faith and sharing her energy, with no holding back on either.
The 57-year-old Louisiana nun who entered the Sisters of St. Joseph of Medaille at 18 left the anonymous life in 1993 when Random House published her book “Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the United States.”
Shortly after, Susan Sarandon read it and went to talk with Prejean in New Orleans. The actress brought the book to Tim Robbins. In March, the film he directed – also titled “Dead Man Walking” – won an Oscar for Sarandon and her portrayal of Sister Helen.
An estimated 8 million people have seen the film, which means they know a bit more about the ritual of state-sanctioned killing. “This movie shows the process of execution,” Prejean says. “Beyond the rhetoric of all the legislations who score their political points for being tough on crime, what it all boils down to is that a handful of people are hired to kill a guy in the middle of the night.”
Among the Speaking invitations Prejean most softens to are those from legal aid groups representing death row prisoners. Most have recently disbanded, following the elimination of federal funding by Congress. One of the few survivors is the Virginia Capital Representation Resource Center. Prejean helped it by being the main speaker on May 26 at a fund-raising even at a Jesuit high school in Washington.
Short-haired, understatedly dressed in a blue suit and blouse, Prejean is a natural storyteller with a talent for wryness and little taste for polemics. The factual arguments for ending the death penalty – it doesn’t deter, racial bias, excessive costs – are offered like notes in the margin. The main text is stories of people she has met since first going into death row in 1984 at the Louisiana state prison in Angola.
Some stories are about men whose executions she witnessed and whom she counseled to ask forgiveness for their crimes. Some are about victims’ families, people Prejean – admitting past cowardice – was once afraid of meeting and chose to avoid. Then she went to a victims’ support group and heard families describe how people like her avoided them.
Prejean praises prison officials who quit their jobs rather than cooperate with the process of executions. Of politicians who boast of their zeal for the death penalty, she asks: Where are they when the prisoners are killed? Why don’t they come in the darkness of midnight to throw the switch or do the injecting themselves rather than be asleep in their beds?
“Witnessing an execution,” Prejean says of the first man she saw die in the electric chair, “Left an indelible mark on my soul.” It was, she says, a rebaptism.
Compared with some longtime opponents of the death penalty – Marie Deans, Michael Mello, Stephen Bright, William Brennan, Joseph Ingle, Alvin Bronstein – Prejean is a newcomer. Her awakening came in the early 1980s when nuns were being killed in Latin America and ones at home were out of their convents and habits, acting on the church’s social teachings on solidarity with the poor and exposing the structural causes of poverty.
Prejean moved into the St. Thomas housing project in New Orleans. “It was a shock,” she told the Progressive magazine recently. “Growing up in the ‘40s and ‘50s, I had known black people only as my family’s servants. Now it was my turn to serve them. It didn’t take long to see that for poor people, especially black poor people, there was a greased track to prison and death row.”
From the housing project in New Orleans, Prejean began visiting another one – the Angola prison – to be a spiritual adviser to men awaiting their deaths. That ministry continues, plus a new one with its own set of difficulties. She describes it as trying to inform “white, affluent people in the suburbs. The more affluent you are, the more separated and the more afraid you are of the poor and ‘the criminal element,’ the more you take the hard line and say, ‘Those people need to be executed.’ They’re the toughest audience.”
It is fitting that the work would be the hardest for Prejean. In the film, the father of a murder victim says to the nun, “I don’t have your faith.” She answers: “It’s not faith, it’s work.”
Mike – Thought you would like to have these two articles.
[Above the title]
Colman McCarthy
[Title]
Dead Men Talking
So, after Hollywood and Susan Sarandon, the bestseller list, gigs on “Oprah” and “PrimeTime Live,” honorary degrees and more than 25 speaking invitations a week, how is Sister Helen Prejean handling celebrity? Much the way she lived with obscurity: keeping the faith and sharing her energy, with no holding back on either.
The 57-year-old Louisiana nun who entered the Sisters of St. Joseph of Medaille at 18 left the anonymous life in 1993 when Random House published her book “Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the United States.”
Shortly after, Susan Sarandon read it and went to talk with Prejean in New Orleans. The actress brought the book to Tim Robbins. In March, the film he directed – also titled “Dead Man Walking” – won an Oscar for Sarandon and her portrayal of Sister Helen.
An estimated 8 million people have seen the film, which means they know a bit more about the ritual of state-sanctioned killing. “This movie shows the process of execution,” Prejean says. “Beyond the rhetoric of all the legislations who score their political points for being tough on crime, what it all boils down to is that a handful of people are hired to kill a guy in the middle of the night.”
Among the Speaking invitations Prejean most softens to are those from legal aid groups representing death row prisoners. Most have recently disbanded, following the elimination of federal funding by Congress. One of the few survivors is the Virginia Capital Representation Resource Center. Prejean helped it by being the main speaker on May 26 at a fund-raising even at a Jesuit high school in Washington.
Short-haired, understatedly dressed in a blue suit and blouse, Prejean is a natural storyteller with a talent for wryness and little taste for polemics. The factual arguments for ending the death penalty – it doesn’t deter, racial bias, excessive costs – are offered like notes in the margin. The main text is stories of people she has met since first going into death row in 1984 at the Louisiana state prison in Angola.
Some stories are about men whose executions she witnessed and whom she counseled to ask forgiveness for their crimes. Some are about victims’ families, people Prejean – admitting past cowardice – was once afraid of meeting and chose to avoid. Then she went to a victims’ support group and heard families describe how people like her avoided them.
Prejean praises prison officials who quit their jobs rather than cooperate with the process of executions. Of politicians who boast of their zeal for the death penalty, she asks: Where are they when the prisoners are killed? Why don’t they come in the darkness of midnight to throw the switch or do the injecting themselves rather than be asleep in their beds?
“Witnessing an execution,” Prejean says of the first man she saw die in the electric chair, “Left an indelible mark on my soul.” It was, she says, a rebaptism.
Compared with some longtime opponents of the death penalty – Marie Deans, Michael Mello, Stephen Bright, William Brennan, Joseph Ingle, Alvin Bronstein – Prejean is a newcomer. Her awakening came in the early 1980s when nuns were being killed in Latin America and ones at home were out of their convents and habits, acting on the church’s social teachings on solidarity with the poor and exposing the structural causes of poverty.
Prejean moved into the St. Thomas housing project in New Orleans. “It was a shock,” she told the Progressive magazine recently. “Growing up in the ‘40s and ‘50s, I had known black people only as my family’s servants. Now it was my turn to serve them. It didn’t take long to see that for poor people, especially black poor people, there was a greased track to prison and death row.”
From the housing project in New Orleans, Prejean began visiting another one – the Angola prison – to be a spiritual adviser to men awaiting their deaths. That ministry continues, plus a new one with its own set of difficulties. She describes it as trying to inform “white, affluent people in the suburbs. The more affluent you are, the more separated and the more afraid you are of the poor and ‘the criminal element,’ the more you take the hard line and say, ‘Those people need to be executed.’ They’re the toughest audience.”
It is fitting that the work would be the hardest for Prejean. In the film, the father of a murder victim says to the nun, “I don’t have your faith.” She answers: “It’s not faith, it’s work.”
Original Format
Newspaper
Contributor of the Digital Item
Kniskern, Kyle
Student Editor of the Digital Item
Dickinson, Terra
Files
Citation
McCarthy, Colman, “Dead Men Talking,” HIST299, accessed March 12, 2026, https://hist299.umwhistory.org/items/show/258.