A10 The BulleTin • Sunday, June 27, 2021
2008 WOODBURN BANK BOMBING
Turnidge wants to end appeal, face execution
BY NOELLE CROMBIE
The Oregonian
The letter to the court was
handwritten and to the point.
Joshua Turnidge, part of the
father-son pair condemned
to death for their roles in the
deadly 2008 Woodburn bank
bombing, wanted to drop his
legal appeals, he wrote to Mar-
ion County Circuit Judge Lind-
say Partridge.
Turnidge, now 44, asked
Partridge to send his case back
to the judge who presided over
his original trial so his death
warrant could be signed.
Under Turnidge’s signature,
he wrote his latest address: Two
Rivers Correctional Institution
in Umatilla.
His request, made earlier
this year as the COVID-19
pandemic gripped the state’s
prison system, echoes one ex-
pressed a decade ago by Gary
Haugen, a two-time convicted
killer whose demand to be
executed by the state led to a
high-profile legal battle and
prompted then-Gov. John
Kitzhaber to impose a morato-
rium on executions.
Calling the death penalty
“costly and immoral,” Gov.
Kate Brown extended the mor-
atorium after she took office.
Turnidge’s request comes at
a time of continued scrutiny
for the death penalty, which
Oregon lawmakers dramat-
ically restricted in 2019. The
Oregon Supreme Court is now
deliberating two cases that
could also have significant im-
plications for the future of cap-
ital punishment.
Turnidge’s letter didn’t ex-
plain why he wanted to drop
his legal appeals, and the status
of his request remains unclear.
In response to an inquiry
from The Oregonian, Turnidge
said he’s lost faith in the crim-
inal justice system’s ability to
treat his case fairly.
“I have come to the conclu-
sion that justice in my case will
never be delivered,” he said this
month. “This case is far to (sic)
political for a judge to rule in
my favor.”
“I’ve run out of hope,” he
said. “I would rather achieve
freedom through death than
a life of defeat and disappoint-
ment. I can only hope one day
the truth of this case will make
its way out.”
Turnidge’s mother, Janet,
said her son and her husband,
Bruce, were transferred to Two
Rivers after the Oregon De-
partment of Corrections shut-
tered death row at the Oregon
State Penitentiary in Salem last
year.
Bruce Turnidge, 69, suffered
various health problems that
prompted officials to return
him to the state penitentiary
last June to be closer to medi-
cal care.
Janet Turnidge said she is
aware of her son’s request.
“Josh had his reasons for
doing it,” his mother told The
Oregonian in an interview.
“He just said I will not live my
whole life in prison for some-
thing I didn’t do.”
Vetting Turnidge’s request
Turnidge’s wish is far from a
simple one.
Stephen Kanter, emeritus
dean at the Lewis & Clark Law
School, said a letter from the
condemned isn’t enough to
prompt the court to act. The
request must be vetted by his
lawyers, who would then have
to submit it to the court.
Kanter said Turnidge’s law-
yers would likely talk with
Turnidge to find out what he’s
thinking “and what could be
done that might be acceptable
for him to continue to fight for
his life.”
The court, he said, would
likely schedule a hearing to
determine whether Turnidge’s
request is “knowing and vol-
untary.”
“He cannot just on his own
say, ‘I give up,’” Kanter said.
He said Turnidge could ar-
gue that “an indefinite mora-
torium with no move toward
The Oregonian file
Josh Turnidge, shown at his trial in Salem in December 2010, was con-
victed along with his father, Bruce Turnidge, in the 2008 bombing at
West Coast Bank in Woodburn.
repeal” constitutes cruel and
unusual punishment under the
U.S. Constitution.
“He’s raising at least an in-
teresting point, an interesting
question, but it probably is
more symbolic,” Kanter said.
“It could be a lever point for
maybe a prison conditions is-
sue or something about his
particular treatment.”
Partridge responded to
Turnidge in a letter eight days
after Turnidge submitted his
request, according to court re-
cords. The judge said he turned
over the letter to Turnidge’s le-
gal team.
“At this point,” the judge
wrote, “I am not acting on your
request until your attorneys
have had an opportunity to re-
view your letter and discuss its
contents with you.”
Kathleen Correll, the Port-
land lawyer who represents
Turnidge, declined to com-
ment on her client’s letter.
It is unclear if Correll has
even been able to see Turnidge
in person this year. Prison vis-
itation was suspended last year
due to the pandemic. The state
is reopening prisons for visits,
though corrections officials
said they do not know when
Two Rivers will open.
Case under review
Joshua and Bruce Turnidge
were both convicted of aggra-
vated murder after prosecutors
said they carried out a bank
robbery fantasy by planting a
bomb outside the West Coast
Bank in Woodburn 13 years
ago. The plot went awry when
the bomb exploded as police
officers, thinking the bomb
was a hoax, moved it inside the
bank and tried to dismantle it.
The blast killed Oregon State
Police Senior Trooper Wil-
liam Hakim and Woodburn
Police Capt. Tom Tennant. It
critically injured Woodburn
Police Chief Scott Russell and
wounded bank employee Lau-
rie Perkett.
The father and son were sen-
tenced to death.
Turnidge has exhausted his
direct appeals, and his aggra-
vated murder conviction has
been upheld by the Oregon Su-
preme Court.
His case is in a stage called
post-conviction relief: a legal
review process that can grind
through the courts for years.
Jeffrey Ellis, a veteran Ore-
gon capital defense lawyer, said
it’s not uncommon for defen-
dants to express a wish to drop
their appeals at some point
during the lengthy process.
In legal circles, they’re called
volunteers.
The state has executed two
men, both volunteers, over the
past five decades. The men had
waived their rights to appeal
and were put to death in the
1990s in the state’s now-moth-
balled execution chamber at
the Oregon State Penitentiary.
The ground has shifted
on capital punishment since
Turnidge and his father were
convicted and sentenced to
death in 2011.
Polling suggests fewer
Americans are receptive to the
death penalty. Gallup polling
shows 80% of Americans sup-
ported capital punishment in
1994; 52% supported it in a
poll conducted last year.
The Legislature significantly
narrowed the list of crimes el-
igible for capital punishment
two years ago, hoping to limit
the ranks of the condemned.
And over the past year the
Oregon Supreme Court has
heard arguments in the appeals
of two death penalty cases —
convicted killer David Ray
Bartol and serial killer Dayton
Leroy Rogers — that could re-
shape the state’s approach to
capital punishment yet again.
Among the issues before the
court: whether recent changes
to the aggravated murder stat-
ute should apply to the men.
Ellis said depending on the
court’s ruling, all 25 inmates
who are sentenced to die in
Oregon may “be entitled to a
new sentencing” hearing.
While executions have been
suspended indefinitely in Ore-
gon, Ellis said, those sentenced
to death still live with uncer-
tainty. Ellis said he was speak-
ing generally and not on be-
half of any of the men serving
death sentences.
“You’ve got people being
told by the state of Oregon: We
are going to strap you down on
the gurney and kill you,” Ellis
said.
He noted that inmates some-
times are reacting to a family
matter or expressing griev-
ances over legal proceedings or
living conditions.
Ellis said sometimes it’s a
problem as minor as not hav-
ing enough money on their
books to purchase items from
the prison commissary.
The pandemic has also cut
off inmates’ in-person contact
with friends and family, he
said, disrupting their routines
and compounding their iso-
lation.
“What frequently happens
is a capital defendant is upset
with current circumstances
and with the lack of control
over proceedings and says, ‘I
know one way to take con-
trol — I am going to get rid of
this,’” he said.
“And in many of those
cases,” he said, “defendants
change their minds.”
Scott Tennant, whose fa-
ther, Tom Tennant, died in the
bombing, said his reaction to
Turnidge’s request is a compli-
cated one.
“It does bring up a lot of
emotions and a lot of stuff for
us as a family,” said Tennant, a
deputy with the Linn County
Sheriff’s Office.
“It brings up a lot of fam-
ily feelings and emotions and
memories. Regardless of how it
ends, we are still missing a part
of our family that we will never
get back.
“Even if the death warrant is
fulfilled,” he said, “it isn’t really
going to change things.”