Strengthened by her Brethren pacifism, she held for over 10 years to her determination not only to forgive the man who had murdered her father and left her for dead, but to save him from execution.

By Sue Wagner Fields

On December 22, 1986, the city of Miami and the Church of the Brethren community were shocked by the murder of Bill Bosler, pastor of Miami First Church of the Brethren. The intruder into the church parsonage not only killed the pastor, but also attacked Bill’s daughter, SueZann, stabbing her six times and leaving her for dead.

Ever since the tragedy, SueZann and the members of Miami First church of the Brethren have been determined to overcome evil with good, rather than being overcome by evil themselves.

The small congregation, despite the risk, chose to keep its doors open in ministry with the community in which its pastor’s murderer had lived. Members organized a letter-writing campaign to the judge on behalf of the offender, 20-year-old James Bernard Campbell, who had been arrested a few blocks from the church a week after the crime. They wrote to the judge about their own beliefs concerning the death penalty, about the beliefs of the Church of the Brethren, and about their pastor, whom they had known as an outspoken activist against the death penalty. They remembered Bill Bosler as a man who valued each person he had met.

SueZann, 24 years old at the time of the crime, had known her father as a gentle man who worked for peace. Although strong in his beliefs, he was equally committed to understanding people who held views different from his own. SueZann remembered her father saying that is he were murdered, he would not want the murderer to be put to death. She never knew exactly how Bill came to this position, but was sure that the Church of the Brethren, a church of peace, had been a very important influence in his life.

Her own position, too, had been against the death penalty, but SueZann had never fully faced the issue until her father’s death. Between then and Campbell’s first trial in 1988, her belief had continued to develop, and she could more confidently claim and articulate it as her own. "Although I admit to having some questions along the way, I never wavered from my position," she tells me. In fact, facing the question has strengthened her convictions. Even in the most difficult times, SueZann has felt the mercy and protection of God. She is convinced that not only God, but also her father would have wanted her to pursue the path of forgiveness and reconciliation that she set out on within the first year of the murder. These experiences have "set me on the right path the peace," says SueZann. "I am at peace with myself."

SueZann had the support of her family in her decision to attempt to influence the legal system to spare Campbell’s life. But she had already decided that she would take up the challenge even if she had to do it completely alone.

The first court trial for Campbell took place in 1988. It has been a torturous experience that SueZann has had to face—that of reliving, over and over, every detail of the horrible day that changed her life as she has prepared for and submitted to elentless court questioning. Only a woman with deep convictions can hold herself together through such an ordeal and still be able to speak about the value of the life and her attacker.

A telling scene was played out near the end of the first trial. Speaking to the judge, but looking directly into the same eyes that she had looked into while being stabbed, SueZann declared, "I believe in the value of all human life, and that includes James Bernard Campbell’s." A courageous statement in itself, it was even more courageous when spoken in the context of a very pro-death penalty city and state.

But in spite of many letters, prayers and SueZann’s courageous words, the judge sentenced Campbell to four consecutive life sentences in prison…and death.

Ever since that first trial in 1988, SueZann has been determined to put the tragic murder and murder attempt behind her, and to focus on saving Campbell’s life. She has traveled thousands of miles, spoken to thousands of people, continuing to relive memories that most victims spend their energy trying to forget. In her travels, she has carried a Bible inscribed with a Campbell’s name, inviting people to write messages of concern to him.

Twice the Florida Supreme Court overturned Campbell’s death sentence and returned the case for resentencing—first because of the judge’s error and next for prosecutorial misconduct. The conviction stood; only the sentence of death or life imprisonment remained in question.

Finally, June 9, 1997, Dade County Circuit Judge Marc Schumacher and a third jury began to retry the case. There were new complications for SueZann. Over the years, she had become increasingly uncomfortable in the presence of people from the state attorney’s office because of her conclusion that, from the beginning, they had manipulated her to seal the death sentence for Campbell, in spite of their awareness of her hope to influence the judge and jury to spare his life. The leader of this group, the head prosecutor, was finding that SueZann was harder and harder to control. But, by this time, he knew her well enough to know how to upset her emotionally, making it difficult for her to focus on what she wanted to say, now that she knew what to say and how to say it. He used this tactic at critical times.

Another complication stemmed from a Florida Supreme Court ruling that a victim may not testify before jurors about the type of penalty an offender should receive. Although this ruling had been around for some time, it was not until this third trial that the "powers that be" had figured out that SueZann had "matured from a young victim to a seasoned, 34-year-old advocate" (to use the words of a Miami Herald article). Somewhere along the way, a decision had been made to strictly enforce the ruling in this case.

To assist her with these difficulties, SueZann accepted the help of an anti-death penalty attorney, Melodee Smith, to advise her during the trial. Smith, an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ, makes it her ministry to work on death penalty cases.

As I watched the trial events unfold in the court room, I felt it unlikely that Campbell’s death sentence would be overturned. For one thing, Campbell had many characteristics common to death row prisoners. He was an African-American who had murdered a white man. He had mental limitations, few economic resources, and apparently little or no family support.

Here we were in a very pro-death penalty city and state, in which two juries and two judges had previously sentenced this man to death. The head prosecutor knew how to use his power, an still seemed determined to put a star on his record by winning the death sentence once and for all in this highly publicized case. And this being the first capital case presided over by Judge Schumacher, it seemed likely that there would be little slack in what he allowed SueZann to say to the jury concerning her 10-year struggle to have Campbell’s life spared.

Finally, the trial was taking place the same week in which a Denver jury was deciding the fate of Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh. Although the Campbell jurors were shielded from the news of the McVeigh trial, they had already been exposed to weeks of news about that case. Would it put them in a pro-death-penalty frame of mind? I was not optimistic.

On the second day of the trial, SueZann was called to testify. While under oath, she was ordered by the judge not to speak concerning her or anyone else’s opinion regarding the death penalty.

"About my opinion?" asked SueZann for clarification.

"Yes," said the judge.

I knew that SueZann was planning, in spite of the restriction, to express her hope that Campbell’s life would be spared. But when the judge forbade her so clearly, under oath, I was disappointed and frustrated. This was the moment for which SueZann had been preparing herself for 10 years. Judge Schumacher had told the jury repeatedly that he would give "great weight" to the recommendation of life or death that it would give at the end of the trial. SueZann wanted so much to finally be listened to, and had so hoped that this would be her chance. But how could she speak her beliefs now? She would face serious consequences if she did. What a shame it was, I thought, that this young woman who wanted so much to show mercy to someone who was supposed to be her enemy was being warned against doing so.

The Miami Herald’s description of SueZann as a "small, deceptively fragile-looking woman" was accurate. I should have known not to underestimate her courage and determination.

The assistant state attorney questioned SueZann first. His second question to her on the witness stand was "Are you employed?" She replied, "Yes. I have several jobs." She went on to explain that she cut hear, and that for the past 10 ½ years her main job had been working to abolish the death penalty. This was not an opinion, just a fact.

The judge turned toward SueZann and glared. The prosecutor quickly moved to the next question. Neither he nor the judge dared to challenge SueZann at that point for fear of drawing attention to what she had said. But in a few minutes, the exasperated judge dismissed the jury and turned to SueZann once again, reminding her angrily that she was under court order and that serious penalties would result if she said "even one word about the death penalty or anything that has to do with the death penalty." He had ready made it crystal clear that there would be no slack in his restrictions of her testimony.

When it was the turn of the defense counsel, Reemberto Diaz, to question, he made many attempts to give SueZann an opportunity to speak freely about her belief. But a series of objections from the assistant state attorney, sustained by the judge, prevented this line of questioning from continuing.

Finally, Diaz walked to his chair and turned around. Before he sat down, he looked at SueZann. Later, she described to me what happened at that moment. "We locked eyes. In my mind I was pleading, ‘Ask me! Ask me! Ask me!’"

Diaz said, "I have one more question." Pointing to Campbell, he asked SueZann, "Do you hate this man?" State attorneys jumped to their feet, shouting objections—loudly sustained by the judge, but SueZann had responded immediately with a firm "No!"

She told me later, "It was as if Diaz read my mind."

An ironic scene was playing out before us. Usually a victim would be cooperating fully with the state attorneys and only reluctantly with the defense. But here was a victim who did her best to avoid eye contact with the prosecutor and gave only short, unemotional answers to his questions. In spite of his attempts to control SueZann, she maintained control throughout the time she was in front of the jury. She and the defense were working together smoothly and creatively, although I think none of it had been planned.

Another irony was the presence of the Miami Police Department detective Jeff Geller, who had been involved in Campbell’s arrest. Geller had been uncomfortable in this role because of his opposition to the death penalty, and he no longer works for the department. He had become SueZann’s best friend through her ordeal and now does investigative work on capital cases, uncovering evidence that will assist defendants in avoiding the death penalty. He sat among SueZann’s other supporters throughout the trial.

On the trial’s third day, the defense counsel called a number of witnesses who testified to Campbell’s suffering extreme abuse from both his parents as a young child and being removed from his home a number of times. Other witnesses spoke of his history of alcohol and crack cocaine abuse, to which he had turned at an early age. They also spoke of a suicide attempt (drinking bleach) and of his borderline mental retardation.

On the fourth day, SueZann was called by Diaz to testify once more. For the third time, with the jury out of the room, the judge threatened her. "You are not to mention anything about the death penalty or your feelings toward the defendant. … If you violate my order, you will be in criminal contempt and face six months jail. … Please don’t push me on that."

Before SueZann took the stand, the state’s attorney found a way to upset her. That incident, together with the relentlessly stated restrictions pit upon her brought SueZann to tears by the time she was supposed to respond to questioning. She said later, "I felt like a criminal up there, not a victim. I felt that if I said one wrong word, I would go to jail."

Before bringing in the jury, the judge and attorneys suggested that they and SueZann do a "dry run" of what they would say when the jury returned. Diaz asked SueZann what impact the death of her father had had on her life. Normally, such a question would be used against the defendant. But in this situation, Diaz knew that it could give SueZann one more chance to influence the jury and spare the defendants life.

SueZann struggled to speak. "All I wanted to say was a very simple thing: I forgive James Bernard Campbell for what he’s done. I respect his life and value it here on this earth. I believe in life. … I’ve tried for 10 ½ years to bring some good out of this. I’m doing it the best way I know how. I’m at peace with myself. That’s all I wanted to say."

The judge responded, "I respect your feeling and your opinions. There is no place, however, for them in this court, in these proceedings." Because of the judge’s rigidity, Diaz decided not to call SueZann to speak again in front of the jury.

On the fifth and final day, the defense counsel, in his closing arguments, worked persuasively on Campbell’s behalf. And he found several ways to subtly draw attention to SueZann’s position. Diaz pointed out that while the prosecutors had presented enormous, poster-size enlargements of the crime scene, the jurors should consider some other images. "There are no pictures of the violence that this young man grew up with, but the pictures that live in his mind." The chairs in which Campbell’s family would have sat during the trial had remained empty all week. Gesturing towards those chairs, Diaz said, "Look at those empty chairs. That’s his family. Look at those chairs and you see his life. His only support comes from the second row." During the trial, SueZann, her sister Lynette, and several friends had sat there in that second row.

Diaz closed by saying to the jurors, "I’m not asking you to let [Campbell] walk out of here today. … I’m asking you to stop the violence in his life. … Cooking his brains is not the way to end it." Then, turning to the assemblage in the court room, his last words were spoken to SueZann. … But loud enough for the jurors to hear: "Thank you, SueZann."

SueZann was disappointed that she had been unable to say much at all to the jurors during the trial. But, with the help of the defense counsel, she had at least succeeded in communicating to them her main point. And she had courageously pushed the limits of the law in order to express her belief that all human life is sacred.

After only three hours, the jury returned with an eight-to-four recommendation that James Campbell be given an additional life sentence instead of death in the electric chair. That same day, Judge Schumacher quickly imposed a life sentence, with a minimum mandatory 25 years without parole, to be served consecutively with three other life sentences in the same case.

After passing the sentence the judge invited SueZann to speak to the jurors. Her tears were not the only ones in the courtroom. There were tears in the eyes of the jurors, the bailiff, and surely also in the eyes of many other people as she spoke. "Thank you for giving life and not death to James Bernard Campbell. … I’m so overwhelmed. … This is the happiest moment of the past 10 ½ years for me. … I can’t thank you enough. … I have worked hard for his life to be spared. Now I can go on with my own life.

Many people have wondered how James Campbell responded to all this. Publicly, he has given little response. SueZann had the Bible placed on the chair beside him in the court room. Red tape and disinterested attorneys have prevented the Bible from getting to him. But get to him, it will, sooner or later.

Campbell wanted to come out into the hall to thank SueZann, but when he stepped through the court room door he was so swamped by news media people that he backed back inside. He tried again a little later, again was mobbed, and again retreated. With that, he apparently gave up.

SueZann hopes that one day she will be able to speak personally with the man she worked so hard to save/ One reason for reaching him, she explains, is this: "I want to give him a chance to say, ‘I’m sorry.’"

How much may the judge have been influenced by Bill and SueZann Bosler’s views, which SueZann had communicated to him before the trial?

How much had the judge been influenced by letters he received from Miami First church members and other people around the world?

How much was the jury influenced by the few but clear actions and words of SueZann it saw and heard? (Defense counsel Diaz said later, "SueZann Bosler’s presence certainly conveyed a message to this jury.")

What about the many prayers that were raised to god over these 11 years?

The potential of each of these efforts to help save a man’s life should not be underestimated.

SueZann’s calendar of interviews and speaking engagements has been crowded, even in the months since last June’s trial. There is still too much stress in her life. Why does she allow herself to be put through this? It is partly because of her seeing the healing process in her own life deepen as she struggled for healing in the life of another—James Campbell. It is partly because these interactions have given her the chance to speak on behalf of other victims of violent crime, who often feel alone, as she does sometimes.

It is partly because of the opportunity it gave her to speak about her disillusionment by and anger towards the US legal system. It is clear to SueZann that the legal system wants people to do as it says, but not as it does. Employees of the state attorney’s office see it as their job to be involved in the death of other human beings, supposedly to show, by killing people, that killing people is wrong.

It is partly because SueZann so thoroughly appreciates involvement with small groups, in which she can converse with individuals. She speaks with enthusiasm and satisfaction about learning so much from all the groups and individuals with whom she has talked, including (just like her father) those with viewpoints very different from her own.

SueZann said in court that she wanted very much "to bring some good out of this." The horrible crime that could easily have completely shattered her life has brought about an amazing change in it. From beneath the rock-hard surface of physical and emotional pain, grief, and anger has blossomed a surprising spray of courage, strength, forgiveness, and hope. Surprising opportunities to spread the news of God’s mercy and peace have also appeared.

Was SueZann’s determination to speak her beliefs in spite of legal restrictions an example of someone with contempt for the law? Hardly. It is an example, rather, of one who recognized not only the law of the land, but also the law that is higher.

It is risky to serve this higher law. But it is the life to which we are called as followers of Christ. And it puts us in good company.

As I drove home from Miami in min-June, traveling north through the Shenandoah Valley, I took note of the interstate highway exit for Broadway, Va. I recalled that it was the opening day of the bicentennial celebration of the life of Brethren peace martyr John Kline.

John Kline was another person who took risks to follow the higher law. A minister whose wider flock lived on both sides of the North/South border during the Civil War, John Kline continued during that war to cross that border in order to minister to the Brethren. People on both sides of the conflict considered him a traitor because of his friendly relations with "the enemy."

He surely knew that he was risking death in taking those actions, and they did eventually cost him his life. John Kline refused to participate in either side’s way of relating to "the enemy." The Prince of Peace had called him to another way of living.

To the exasperation of a judge and a slick prosecution team, to the astonishment of the Miami community and a defense counsel accustomed to some very different behavior from victims of violent crime, SueZann Bosler refused to participate in society’s way of dealing with "the enemy."

Although she is uncomfortable with any implication that she is anywhere near to being perfect, she clearly has felt called to another way of living. She often ends her presentations by quoting one of her father’s favorite songs: "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."

Reprinted with permission from the Messenger. Please visit our Web site at: http://www.brethren.org