“Ah yes, you disagree with the death penalty, but how would you feel if India Chipchase was your daughter?” For poor India, murdered by Edward Tenniswood, read any number of people murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And after each murder, no matter how depraved, no matter how evil, my answer is always the same: I don’t believe in capital punishment. I do understand, though, how people can feel differently about it.
I won’t repeat the story of India’s murder – it’s all over the internet if you want to look up the finer details yourself – but you will know the gist of it, that Tenniswood had found her drunk outside of a nightclub, promised to take her home safely, then raped and killed her. I am not really all that interested in whether he was a “friendless loner” or a “self-confessed alcoholic”. That his own lawyer described Tenniswood as an “oddball” is no explanation to me. I have known plenty of so called oddballs, almost all of whom have merely been eccentrics with not a harmful bone in their bodies. He’s a rapist and a killer. That’s all you need to know.
No, Tenniswood is probably not worth saving. He’s probably not worth the countless thousands of pounds it will cost to keep him in prison until he is at least 82 at the very earliest. Personally, I hope he does live that long and maybe longer. Here’s why.
People who rape and murder young women are not normally the most popular people in prison. In fact, they are usually amongst the most despised. Cast your mind back 30 years (assuming you can) and remember what you were doing then. It was a very long time ago. Then imagine 30 years on from now. From my own point of you, I do not expect to be around by then, if my family history is anything to go by. I’d like to think that if I lived that long it would not be behind lock and key. Imagine the prospect of 30 years and more of sleeping in a dark cell every single night. Imagine how you might feel about the possibility of finding yourself unattended by prison guards just for one moment in the company of some hardened criminals for whom your crime was so heinous that they themselves would never dream of committing it. It could happen any day, but you might never know when.
Take Tenniswood’s life and it would be all over for him in an instant. No more suffering, no more fear of what might happen in the corridors and exercise yard, no thoughts of 30 years of never ever seeing the outdoors – that would be that.
I am sure there would be enough people willing to don Albert Pierrepoint’s gown and become the new hangman. Plenty of them, I fancy, would be ordinary decent people who would want to avenge this awful killing. And of course this was not my daughter. I can only look on twice-removed. But an eye for an eye still does not seem right to me.
Vengeance might make us feel better for a moment, but it would not return India Chipchase to her family. They will suffer a life sentence for what Tenniswood did to their daughter. That, above everything else, is why I believe that he should serve a life sentence too, to remind him every single day of the remainder of his worthless life what he did and where he will be until he dies. I hope he hates every single second of it.
