Sue
Norton
Sue Norton stood
outside a jail cell in November 1990, looking into the eyes of the man who
killed her father.
For three weeks, she had sat in a courtroom, listening as prosecutors
described how Robert Knighton and an accomplice robbed and shot her
adoptive father, Richard Denney, and his wife, Virginia. As the trial wore
on and the guilty verdicts came, her unease had grown.
And now that the jury was trying to decide whether Knighton should die for
his crime, the Arkansas City woman knew she had to tell him what was in
her heart:
''I forgive you.''
He didn't believe her. He hesitated when she reached through the bars for
his hand, then gently touched her fingertips. She wasn't satisfied. She
grabbed his hand. Held it. Both of them trembling, she prayed aloud:
''Lord, I pray for your will to be done in his life and for you to show
him love. Lord, watch over him.''
With that act, an unlikely friendship began to form. Two lives began to
change.
Knighton and Norton, 52, have become close in the 10 years he has been on
death row at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester.
During that time, he's learned about the power of prayer. She's learned
about the power of forgiveness.
Knighton was on the run in January 1990.
He had fled a Kansas City, Mo., halfway house with his girlfriend, Ruth
Williams, and with Lawrence Brittain, a 17-year-old whose behavior had him
on the verge of being sent to prison.
They went to Brittain's home in Clinton, Mo., only to find two friends of
Brittain's father waving guns, boasting about their crimes and insulting
Lawrence Brittain. An argument followed and someone - Knighton won't say
who - shot and killed the two men.
Knighton, Brittain, and Williams fled. Their search for money, food, and
a different vehicle took them near Tonkawa, Okla., about 70 miles
south of Wichita. They found a secluded farmhouse. Denney was
outside.
According to trial testimony, Knighton and Brittain led Denney, 62, into
the house at gunpoint. Virginia, 64, was inside. The couple offered to
give them food and said they wouldn't tell anyone about the men. Their
captors didn't believe them.
After giving the couple time for a final prayer, Knighton fired three
shots from a handgun, two at Richard Denney and one at Virginia Denney.
The men stole $61, a pocketknife, and some cigarettes and fled with
Williams in the Denneys' beat-up truck. They were arrested in the Texas
Panhandle when a resident reported a suspicious vehicle. Police found
blood on Knighton's clothes and guns in the truck.
Brittain was sentenced to life in prison on two first-degree murder
convictions. Williams, 23, pleaded guilty to conspiracy and has since been
released from prison.
Both testified against Knighton. He was convicted of both murders. Then
the jury took up the question of whether he should die.
Norton was torn. Her father's killer had been brought to justice, but she
had no peace.
''I didn't understand why I had this turmoil in my mind,'' she said. ''Why
wasn't I glad that we were winning? And why wasn't I glad that it was
almost over? The man's going to be 
dead. It's going to be all over.''
Norton had first turned to God when she was 21, after her and her first
husband's son was born. The baby died before he was 5 days old. Over the
years, though, she hadn't attended church or prayed regularly.
Now, she again needed comfort and direction.
''God, how am I supposed to feel?'' she remembers praying. ''What am I
going to do? Help me.''
She awoke early in the morning with a thought: You could forgive him.
''God's never talked to me in a voice. God's never stood before me,'' she
said.
''But I know that that thought was put in my head by God. And I prayed
right then, and I did forgive him.''
Norton asked to meet Knighton, and he agreed. What she said surprised him.
''I want you to know that I don't hate you,'' she said. ''I've not ever
hated anyone in my whole life, and I'm not going to start now. In fact, if
you're guilty, I forgive you.''
Then she took his hand in prayer.
Knighton thought it was all a game, something she was doing to make
herself feel better.
''I didn't think I'd ever see her again,'' he said.
Later that day, the jury decided his fate: Death.
Norton visited Knighton again in April 1991.
They spent more than an hour talking about ''anything and everything,''
Norton said. Except the murders. That is still something they don't
discuss.
She said she forgives him because it's the only thing she can do as a
Christian. People always talk about forgiving. People always say they
should forgive others.
''Until,'' she said, ''something happens to them.''
Knighton said the most important thing she has done for him is help him
accept God into his life.
''I don't look at life quite like I used to,'' he said. ''I just don't
have all that hate. It's gone. I just thank God every day that I got to
know her.''
Some people, including Norton's family members, don't think Knighton has
changed.
Maudie Nichols, Norton's sister and Richard Denney's biological daughter,
thinks the fact that Norton was
adopted made it easier for her to forgive Knighton.
''I think if it was her own father that she couldn't lay eyes on again,
she wouldn't feel the way she does,'' Nichols said.
Norton disagrees.
''I don't consider Daddy any different than my biological parent because
he raised me,'' she said.
''Certainly I am not saying that B.K. should be out on the street. But in
my opinion, he should not be executed.''
Since forgiving Knighton, Norton has become outspoken against the death
penalty. She is a member of the Kansas Coalition Against the Death Penalty
and of the national Murder Victims' Families for Reconciliation. She
shares her story of forgiveness and anti-death penalty views with church,
school, and social groups.
She finds support in those organizations and from her husband, Gene, and
her five children.
Knighton isn't sure when his execution date will come. His case is still
on appeal.
When that day arrives, Robert Wesley Knighton will walk down the halls of
the McAlester prison into the
gray-walled execution room. He'll be strapped down, and a lethal mix of
drugs will flow through his veins.
And Norton will watch.
''I couldn't not be with him in those last minutes,'' she said. ''He has
to be able to look out and see somebody who is his friend.''
An adjoining room for witnesses is separated by a partition. One side is
for victims' family members. The other is for the inmate's family and
friends.
Norton will be there, on Knighton's side. Alone.
Boston Globe, 1999
