ULOU, China -- Zhang Huanzhi, 61, hugs a small mound of dirt that holds her son's ashes. Tears stream from her face as she cries out in pain: Why us, why our boy, why such injustice?
A few months ago, a state-run newspaper reported that someone else had confessed to the rape and murder for which her son had been executed. For years, few had listened as she insisted that Nie Shubin, 20, had been tortured into a false confession, then convicted after a two-hour trial. The only evidence of any note, she says, was the account of a witness who saw someone near the crime scene riding a blue bicycle. Nie owned a blue bicycle.
"If his bicycle were red, or black, he'd be alive today," Zhang said.
Cases such as Nie's have cast a harsh spotlight on China's widespread, and often questionable, use of the death penalty. Now, amid pressure from lawyers, academics, the United Nations and many countries, the government is undertaking a re-evaluation.
On Tuesday, government media reported that the Supreme People's Court would regain the authority it lost in 1983 to oversee capital cases. The change in the early 1980s was driven by a desire for speedy justice. According to the China Youth Daily, the nation's highest court is adding three criminal trial courts to handle death penalty review cases in a "truly neutral" fashion.
Some estimate that this change could reduce executions by 30 percent.
Comprehensive death penalty statistics are a state secret, but local jurisdictions will announce executions when that serves a political purpose. Human rights groups, however, say China executes more people than the rest of the world's governments combined.
Amnesty International found evidence of 3,400 death sentences carried out in 2004 but says the real number may be closer to 10,000 a year. This compares with 59 in the U.S. in 2004. More than 70 countries use the death penalty, but most apply it only in the case of a few extremely violent crimes. China executes people for 68 offenses, many nonviolent, including smuggling, tax evasion, corruption, "endangering national security" and separatism, which includes advocating Tibetan or Taiwanese independence.
The state-run press has called for a "kill fewer, kill carefully" approach, perhaps as early as next year. More broadly, the Communist Party hopes a credible legal system will help channel public frustration through the courts rather than into public demonstrations.
Nie's two-hour trial, followed a few months later by his execution, was not unusual. Lu Shile, accused of murder in the northeastern city of Qingdao, was convicted late last year, had his appeal denied and was executed within 24 days, which the Qingdao Evening News praised as "rapid and highly efficient."
Chinese executioners tend to be particularly busy before major Communist Party meetings, the UN-declared anti-drug day, crime crackdowns and year-end holidays, with the state press touting executions as conducive to a "safe, joyful and happy new year."
"If you put political stress on an already shaky system and just go for results, the risk of abrogation of justice and disproportionate sentencing is significantly higher," said Nicholas Becquelin, Hong Kong-based research director for Human Rights in China.
Now, Nie's family is caught in legal limbo. After a serial killer confessed to Kang's murder, the court said an execution certificate was required to reopen the case. The family says it never received one, nor was it required at the time.
"I feel so powerless," Zhang says. "I had a beautiful, happy family, a good husband, everything seemed so perfect. Then our whole world came apart."
A few months ago, a state-run newspaper reported that someone else had confessed to the rape and murder for which her son had been executed. For years, few had listened as she insisted that Nie Shubin, 20, had been tortured into a false confession, then convicted after a two-hour trial. The only evidence of any note, she says, was the account of a witness who saw someone near the crime scene riding a blue bicycle. Nie owned a blue bicycle.
"If his bicycle were red, or black, he'd be alive today," Zhang said.
Cases such as Nie's have cast a harsh spotlight on China's widespread, and often questionable, use of the death penalty. Now, amid pressure from lawyers, academics, the United Nations and many countries, the government is undertaking a re-evaluation.
On Tuesday, government media reported that the Supreme People's Court would regain the authority it lost in 1983 to oversee capital cases. The change in the early 1980s was driven by a desire for speedy justice. According to the China Youth Daily, the nation's highest court is adding three criminal trial courts to handle death penalty review cases in a "truly neutral" fashion.
Some estimate that this change could reduce executions by 30 percent.
Comprehensive death penalty statistics are a state secret, but local jurisdictions will announce executions when that serves a political purpose. Human rights groups, however, say China executes more people than the rest of the world's governments combined.
Amnesty International found evidence of 3,400 death sentences carried out in 2004 but says the real number may be closer to 10,000 a year. This compares with 59 in the U.S. in 2004. More than 70 countries use the death penalty, but most apply it only in the case of a few extremely violent crimes. China executes people for 68 offenses, many nonviolent, including smuggling, tax evasion, corruption, "endangering national security" and separatism, which includes advocating Tibetan or Taiwanese independence.
The state-run press has called for a "kill fewer, kill carefully" approach, perhaps as early as next year. More broadly, the Communist Party hopes a credible legal system will help channel public frustration through the courts rather than into public demonstrations.
Nie's two-hour trial, followed a few months later by his execution, was not unusual. Lu Shile, accused of murder in the northeastern city of Qingdao, was convicted late last year, had his appeal denied and was executed within 24 days, which the Qingdao Evening News praised as "rapid and highly efficient."
Chinese executioners tend to be particularly busy before major Communist Party meetings, the UN-declared anti-drug day, crime crackdowns and year-end holidays, with the state press touting executions as conducive to a "safe, joyful and happy new year."
"If you put political stress on an already shaky system and just go for results, the risk of abrogation of justice and disproportionate sentencing is significantly higher," said Nicholas Becquelin, Hong Kong-based research director for Human Rights in China.
Now, Nie's family is caught in legal limbo. After a serial killer confessed to Kang's murder, the court said an execution certificate was required to reopen the case. The family says it never received one, nor was it required at the time.
"I feel so powerless," Zhang says. "I had a beautiful, happy family, a good husband, everything seemed so perfect. Then our whole world came apart."