Poems from the the Pen Poems from Death Row

A Fatal Mistake (On my Trial) J.K. Bailey, San Quentin


God is our father, God is our judge Not twelve lowly people that harbor a grudge

Lives are in question-attitudes not good But out of this chaos a jury now stood They had but a few days to know this man Whose life, love and happiness they hold in their hands

They say to themselves he looks like a nice enough guy But we must watch and listen while this case we try They hear of the horror-the life lost-oh, the pain Now we have to ask what did this man gain

A lineup? They had one. No, he wasn't picked out Hurray-point for our side-is it okay to shout? An eye witness? Yes, a young lady was there She was asked was it the man sitting in this chair?

"No" she said quite calmly, "That isn't the man" We fill up with happiness-strike up the band Two people say he's innocent-he has nothing to hide More testimony-more points for each side

The case is presented, we said our last speech The jury leaves-a verdict to reach We sit each day our hearts beating fast How long will it take-how long can we last

At last we're called in-our fate has been sealed We smile-two witnesses proved our point we feel The verdict is read-guilty-that's all we hear No, this can't be happening-the innocent have nothing to fear

Our lives are broken, our loved ones cry So many hurt-emotional death they die We try to understand but now we are blind To reason or fact or hope of any kind

Twelve mortal people took a life in their hands Set themselves up as Judge and condemned this man A much greater sin -woe is their fate Tried to play God-and made a fatal mistake.
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