If death sentence is what the Nicaricos want...

Pat Nicarico hesitated slightly; the circumstances that had brought them together were anything but joyful.

Still, she wanted to acknowledge her new friends: the families of Brian Dugan's many other victims.

"We have a bond," she said. "It's not the best kind of bond to have, but it's a very special bond and closeness."

As I watched her address the media on the video we were preparing to post on dailyherald.com Wednesday afternoon, I got a lump in my throat. I watched again, and saw Roger Schnorr struggle to keep his composure as he discussed his satisfaction with the death penalty for the man who killed his sister, Donna. It was deeply moving, but also a little disturbing to see these people thrust into the limelight so many times by the most horrific of circumstances.

"You've been around for all of this, haven't you?" a reporter asked me. She works in another office but was assigned to our task force trying to interview the jurors after they sentenced Dugan to die.

That's almost true. By chance, I did hear of Jeanine Nicarico's apparent abduction the evening of the day it occurred, before the world knew, but the Daily Herald did not yet cover Naperville in 1983. I remember, too, thinking anything but the worst, that there'd be a benign explanation for what had happened. Was I, were we, so naive back then?

It was only a few years later that I was editing stories about the trials of the two men accused of abducting, raping and bludgeoning to death the 10-year-old Jeanine. Trials held all over the state, in Rock Island, Bloomington, because the sensational nature of the crime led to changes of venue.

"Exactly how did those guys (Rolando Cruz and Alex Hernandez) get convicted so many times?" our reporter asked. Well, I said, it all pretty much hinged on a "dream statement" in which Cruz recounts having a dream or vision of a crime, of seeing a little girl hit. Cruz has always denied that, says the cops made it up to ensure a conviction in the politically charged case. But Cruz also has admitted to being a smart-alecky street punk who loved to jerk the cops around, might have told some tales in hopes of maybe getting some of the reward money offered for the capture of Jeanine's killer. I know. Today, that case seems awfully weak.

I'll readily admit, too, I thought for a long time they had the right guys. One of the reasons I held that belief was the Nicaricos so fervently thought so. Honestly, I wanted them to be right; I wanted them to have some peace of mind, some semblance of closure to something that has carried on for a painfully long time.

Another co-worker, just after we heard the verdict, said something like: Well, this is going to drag on for how many years now? I got mildly indignant: No, I said, this is it: No more trials, no more sentencing hearings. But the truth is, Brian Dugan likely would be heard from much less if he were just left to serve the rest of his life in prison. With a death penalty, there is a broad avenue of appeals, and Dugan's death sentence already is prompting calls by gubernatorial candidates and others to lift the moratorium on the death penalty. So if this debate picks up steam, Dugan will, indeed, be a big part of it.

I've been asked a lot lately what I think of the death sentence. Since I debated the topic in my 7th-grade speech class, I've been a proponent. Nothing too sophisticated; pretty much an eye-for-an-eye thing. But in recent years, the misguided prosecution of Cruz, Hernandez and way too many others has to give pause to most of us.

But what about this particular death sentence?

Let me put it this way: It's what the Nicaricos want. It's what Roger Schnorr wants. It's what Opal Horton wants. And Sharon Grajek.

And if that's what they want, it's more than all right with me.

jdavis@dailyherald.com