Steven Oken sexually assaulted and murdered Dawn Garvin at her home in Baltimore County. At midnight on Sunday, November 1, 1987, Keith Douglas Garvin arrived at the United States Navy base in Oceana, Virginia. Mr. Garvin, who had a pass from his naval superiors, had just spent the weekend with his wife, Dawn Garvin, at their apartment in the Baltimore County community of White Marsh and was returning to his station in Oceana. Upon his arrival at the base, Keith attempted to call his wife to notify her that he had arrived safely. Although the telephone rang at their White Marsh apartment, there was no answer. After making several additional unsuccessful attempts to call his wife, Keith became worried and telephoned his father-in-law, Frederick Joseph Romano. Because Frederick lived in close proximity to the Garvins' apartment, Keith asked him to check on Dawn.

Mr. Romano agreed, and attempted to telephone his daughter twice. Both times there was no answer. Concerned about the fact that numerous calls to his daughter had gone unanswered, Frederick decided to drive to his daughter's apartment. When he arrived, he found the front door to the apartment ajar, all the lights in the apartment turned on, and the television blaring. Sensing that something was wrong, he rushed into the apartment and found his daughter, Dawn, in the bedroom lying on the bed nude with a bottle protruding from her vagina. While attempting to perform CPR, Dawn's father observed that there was blood streaming from her forehead. He immediately called for assistance, and paramedics arrived shortly thereafter. A paramedic then began to administer CPR, but his efforts were in vain. Dawn Marie Garvin was dead.

At 2:30 a.m., on November 2, police arrived at the Garvins' apartment to inspect the scene of the murder. A detective testified that when he entered the Garvins' apartment he saw no signs of forced entry. Once inside, he observed a brassiere, a pair of pants, tennis shoes, a shirt, and a sweater on the floor near the sofa in the living room. The brassiere was not unhooked, but instead, was ripped on the side. The pants were turned inside out. The detective also noticed a small piece of rubber on the floor near the television set. In the bedroom, he found two spent .25 caliber shell casings on the bed, one of which was lying on top of a shirt. The shirt was blood-stained and had what Roeder believed to be a bullet hole in it. An autopsy of Dawn's body revealed that she had died as the result of two contact gunshot wounds; one of the bullets entered at her left eyebrow and the other at her right ear.

Less than two weeks after Oken murdered Dawn Garvin, he sexually assaulted and murdered his sister-in-law, Patricia Hirt, at his Maryland home. He then fled Maryland for Maine, where he sexually assaulted and murdered Lori E. Ward, the 25-year-old desk clerk at his Kittery, Maine hotel on November 16, 1987. He was arrested in Maine on November 17, 1987, and was ultimately convicted in Maine for first degree murder, robbery with a firearm, and theft arising out of Lori's murder. Oken was sentenced to life without parole on the murder charge, twenty years on the robbery charge, and five years on the theft charge, all sentences to run concurrently. Oken was returned to Maryland where he faced separate prosecutions for charges arising out of other two homicides. He was indicted in the Circuit Court for Baltimore County in the Garvin case for first degree murder, sexual offenses, burglary, daytime housebreaking, robbery with a dangerous or deadly weapon, theft, and a handgun violation.

The State's evidence was very strong. The murder weapon, a handgun, was found in Oken's home shortly after the murder and a rubber portion of Oken's tennis shoe was found in Dawn Garvin's living room on the night of the murder. In addition, several witnesses at trial identified Oken as the person in the neighborhood who had attempted to gain entry to residences in the vicinity of the Garvin home a few days prior to the murder.

The Kittery Maine Police Chief Edward Strong said the Ward murder was very difficult for him because at the time, his daughter was the same age. "The poor girl was working her way through school and putting herself through college," Strong said. "Oken just checked into the motel and a couple hours later murdered her." Strong testified in the two murder trials in Maryland because he found bloody materials and other evidence in the Coachman Motor Inn that linked the three murders. "This individual brutally murdered the three women," Strong said. "I have no doubt that he would have murdered again if we hadn't caught him." Strong said Oken's punishment is suitable for the crimes he committed. "I've never in my law enforcement career seen a person who deserves the death penalty more than this individual," Strong said. "I'm just glad they have the death penalty in Maryland."

That Oken would be the first in line to die under the new governor's administration is no surprise. Baltimore County prosecutors expected him to be executed last spring -- until a moratorium was declared by then-governor Glendening. Given Governor Ehrlich's campaign promise to lift the ban, the state's attorney's office in the county began preparing a death warrant around the time of Ehrlich's Jan. 15 inauguration. "Oken is on a fast track," said Assistant State's Attorney Ann Brobst, who noted that Oken's conviction and sentence have "never been reversed for any reason."

National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty

Steven Oken, MD - June 14-19, 12 AM EST

The state of Maryland is scheduled to execute Steven H. Oken, a white man, for the 1987 rape and murder of Dawn Gavin, a white woman. Within 16 days of this crime Mr. Oken murdered Lori Ward and his sister-in-law Patricia Hirt in Maine. He was convicted and sentenced to life without parole in Maine and then was sent to Maryland’s Baltimore County in 1991 where he was convicted and sentenced to death. Maryland refused to return Mr. Oken to Maine to serve his life sentence.

The former governor of Maryland, Parris Glendening, declared a moratorium on the death penalty in 2002, pending a study he commissioned from the University of Maryland examining geographic and racial disparities in capital sentencing. The final report released in January 2003 concluded that even accounting for other factors, people who kill white victims are “significantly” more likely to face the death penalty than those who kill non-whites. Also, murder cases in Baltimore County are much more likely to be deemed capital murder than other counties. Every person on Maryland’s death row was convicted for the murder of a white victim.

Oken was convicted in Baltimore County for the murder of a white woman, and his execution would be the first since Mr. Glendening’s moratorium. Current Governor Robert Ehrlich lifted the moratorium in 2003, deciding to use the study on a case-by-case basis despite warnings by the study’s lead researcher who stated that this method cannot address the systemic disparities uncovered by the study.

Please urge Governor Ehrlich to commute Oken’s sentence and to re-instate the death penalty moratorium immediately.

WBAL Channel 11

"State Executes Convicted Murderer Steven Oken; Victim's Mom: 'Oken Has Been Brought To Justice'." (June 18, 2004)

BALTIMORE -- Almost 20 years after raping and murdering his first of three victims, Steven Oken is dead. The state of Maryland executed the man sentenced to death in 1991 for murdering three people Thursday night. A Maryland prison spokeswoman confirmed Oken's execution around 9:35 p.m.

"Steven Howard Oken was executed tonight at 9:18 p.m.," said Rosa Cruz, a state prison spokeswoman. "There was never any resistance from Mr. Oken. There were two or three moderate breaths that I saw come from his chest, and there was never any indication that anything was dripping from the IV, which was one of the points of contention in this," John Patti, a media witness from WBAL-AM 1090, said. "It was quite obvious that things were very peaceful for Mr. Oken through the entire process, which lasted about seven or eight minutes," Patti added.

Oken (pictured, right) was sentenced to death for the 1987 murder and rape of Dawn Marie Garvin (pictured, left), a 20-year-old newlywed. He also was convicted of killing Patricia Hirt, his wife's sister, and Lori Ward, a motel clerk in Maine, during a 15-day spree. During a press conference just after 10 p.m., Dawn Marie Garvin's mother, Betty, said Oken "has been brought to justice." "It has been a long 17-year rollercoaster ride. My family has been put through hell in the past 17 years," Betty Romano said. "This past two weeks has been the worst two weeks since we lost Dawn." She thanked God, family members, the state attorney general and the U.S. Supreme Court. She also thanked the governor for his unwavering support. "From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank that man [Ehrlich] very much because he stuck to his word. He kept his word. He didn't wimp out at the last minute. He's a very strong man and I don't have any problems supporting him in the future, ever," Mrs. Romano (pictured, right) said.

At one point during the execution, Oken's toe twitched a "mile a minute," Mrs. Romano said. She said she saw little else, commenting that her view of the inmate was his toes and his stomach. "He was aware until he got that first shot," she said. "I could tell by the reaction of his body." Garvin's brother, Fred A. Romano, said justice has been served. He said the families of the victims are elated, and it's time to move on. Asked whether Oken's death would bring any healing to his family, Fred Romano said: "It started at 9:18. The burden's been lifted. Oken is dead." "The only problem is that Steven Oken died in peace. My daughter didn't have the luxury to die in peace the way he died tonight," Mrs. Romano said. "My family's been through hell, and it finally came back tonight."

Defense Efforts To Delay Execution Run Short

The execution comes after a weeklong legal fight involving the defense and last-minute appeals for delays. Before the execution, Oken's attorney spoke to the death row inmate. "The last thing that we said was I gave him a hug threw the cell, 'You are not alone. You will not stand alone, I will be with you until the last breath of your life,' " Oken's attorney, Fred Warren Bennett, said.

After the U.S. Supreme Court vacated Oken's stay of execution Wednesday night, his lawyers pursued the last remaining options to delay their client's death. But, earlier Thursday evening, a federal appeals court denied Oken's last pending motion. And, in denying clemency, Gov. Bob Ehrlich issued a statement saying that his sympathies "lie with the families of all those involved in these heinous crimes." "The death sentence imposed on Mr. Oken has been reviewed and affirmed by several courts, including the Supreme Court of the United States," Ehrlich noted.

The Fourth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Richmond, Va., voted unanimously early Thursday evening to reject Oken's claim that because executioners might have to cut deeply into his flesh to administer the lethal drugs, his death could be unconstitutionally cruel.

Outside the SuperMax prison, a handful of supporters and opponents of capital punishment continued to demonstrate, as they have all week. Those rallying in favor of capital punishment included some of Garvin's relatives. According to the Maryland Department of Public Safety and Corrections, the last person executed in the state was Tyrone Gilliam, 32, by lethal injection on Nov. 16, 1998, for murder in Baltimore County.

Baltimore Sun

"Md. puts Oken to death ; Ending years of appeals, killer dies by lethal injection," by Julie Bykowicz and Alec MacGillis.

June 18, 2004 - After a furious legal battle that ended only in his final hour, Steven Howard Oken wrote a letter expressing remorse, smiled with a priest and submitted to his death by lethal injection last night for the 1987 rape and murder of a White Marsh newlywed.

Maryland's execution of Oken, a Baltimore County pharmacist's son, at 9:18 p.m., brought chants of "justice has been served" from a crowd of 60 people gathered with relatives of murder victim Dawn Marie Garvin outside the old state penitentiary on East Madison Street in Baltimore. Garvin's mother, Betty Romano, was among four relatives of the victims who witnessed the execution. "My family has been put through hell for 17 years," she said. "Steven Oken has been brought to justice. The only problem is that Steven Oken died in peace, and my daughter didn't have the luxury to die in peace like I saw him die tonight."

Oken, 42, sexually assaulted and killed three women - two in Maryland, one in Maine - in as many weeks in the fall of 1987.

His legal team filed appeal after appeal over the years. But last night, witnesses said, he was anything but combative. He chuckled and chatted with a Roman Catholic priest in the death chamber and did not resist when the procedure began. At 9:11 p.m., two minutes after the curtain snapped back, signaling that Oken had begun receiving the deadly chemicals, his large midsection heaved two or three times, and then he appeared to stop breathing. Oken's attorney, Fred Warren Bennett said he last saw his client at 7:30 p.m., and at that point, "he pretty much knew ... there was nothing left," the lawyer said, crying as he recalled the conversation. "I told him he wouldn't be alone. We'd all be there with him." Speaking of Oken, who he said was not only his client but a friend, Bennett said, "He was a good man. He was not a monster. He was sick. He was mentally ill. You should not kill mentally ill people."

On Wednesday, Oken appeared to have won at least another month of life when a federal appeals court upheld a stay to obtain more information about the state's execution procedures. But that stay was overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court later that day. A flurry of additional court appeals by Oken's attorneys came to naught yesterday, with one Supreme Court rejection arriving at 8:32 p.m., less than an hour before his death. By then, Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr., facing his first clemency appeal from a death row inmate since lifting an unofficial death penalty moratorium when he took office last year, had denied Oken's request. "After a thorough review of the request for clemency, the facts pertinent to the petition, and the judicial opinions regarding this case, I decline to intervene," Ehrlich said in a statement released by his office at 6 p.m. "My sympathies tonight lie with the families of all those involved in these heinous crimes."

Bennett said Oken wrote a letter before he died, addressed to Ehrlich after the governor had denied him clemency. In the letter, Bennett said, "He talked about how sorry he was. It was sent to show remorse." Bennett said he will ask Oken's family to make it public today. Oken's last meal was a chicken patty, with potatoes and gravy, green beans, marble cake, milk and fruit punch. "It was the standard meal that happened to come up in the meal rotation for today," said prison spokesman Mark A. Vernarelli.

Oken's parents said good-bye to their son and went home at 3 p.m., said Rabbi Jacob Max, who counseled the condemned man for about 90 minutes yesterday afternoon. "He was very much at peace," Max said. When Max left Oken's holding cell at 4:30 p.m., a second rabbi, Moshe Davids, talked with him for another 30 minutes. Both rabbis witnessed Oken die from behind one-way glass. The man who went into prison as a relatively fit 25-year-old had become a much heavier middle-age man with close-cropped white-ish hair. He wore a gray jumpsuit he was given for the execution in place of his usual orange one.

Oken was convicted in 1991 in the 1987 rape and murder of Garvin, whom he attacked after tricking her into letting him into her White Marsh apartment to use the phone. Two weeks later, he sexually assaulted and killed his wife's older sister, Patricia Antoinette Hirt, in White Marsh, and fled to Maine, where he sexually assaulted and killed a college student and motel clerk, Lori Elizabeth Ward.

Outside the prison, supporters and opponents of the death penalty gathered in separate groups. Shortly before 9 p.m., chanting arose from the group of about 60 supporters, who included victims' relatives: "turn on the juice." When word spread that Oken was dead, several relatives huddled briefly and said a prayer, and others broke out in cheers. "The burden has been lifted. Oken's dead," said Fred A. Romano, Garvin's brother. He taunted Bennett through a bullhorn: "How can you sleep? How much money did you make?"

Down the street, many of the 40 death penalty opponents assembled cried when they learned that Oken had been put to death. Those who were carrying lit candles blew them out. "Tonight the state extinguished a life, but it ignited a flame in each of us. I want you to walk away from this event tonight stronger," said Sedira Banan, 19, of the American University Campaign to End the Death Penalty.

The execution - the 84th in Maryland's history, its fourth since resuming executions in 1994 after the Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976 and its first since 1998 - occurred in amid an intensifying statewide debate over capital punishment. Over the past two years, Ehrlich's predecessor, Parris N. Glendening, had imposed a temporary moratorium on the death penalty, state Attorney General J. Joseph Curran Jr. called for abolishing it, and a state-commissioned report questioned the fairness of the state's use of the sentence.

Oken's case, which included two previous death warrants that were not acted upon because of appeals, grew closely entwined with the larger debate. His parents became vocal critics of the death penalty, while Garvin's family became outspoken advocates of it. Death penalty critics noted that Oken's case fit what they said was a disturbing trend in Maryland: like a disproportionate number of death row inmates, Oken was sentenced in Baltimore County, and his victims were white. But advocates of the death penalty noted that, as a middle-class white man, he could hardly be portrayed as a victim of prosecutorial bias.

Steven Oken admitted to his crimes. He sexually assaulted and shot to death three women in November 1987. Then 25 years old and married, Oken gave few hints that he would commit such crimes, his family has said. In a 2001 article in the Baltimore Jewish Times, Oken talked of his drug and alcohol abuse, personal problems and depression, and said, "I can't point to one thing that made this happen ... I just didn't want to deal with everything."

Adopted at birth by David and Davida Oken, Steven was raised in a Jewish family with a younger brother and sister. Oken's mother, Davida Oken, said signs of trouble emerged in 1986. She said her son had been abusing alcohol and drugs, including cocaine, marijuana and prescription medications that he had stolen from his father's pharmacy.

On the night of Nov. 1, 1987, Oken knocked on doors in a White Marsh neighborhood near where he and his wife lived, trying to convince residents to let him inside by posing alternately as a stranded motorist and a doctor. According to court testimony, he knocked on 20-year-old Dawn Garvin's door. She let Oken inside. Garvin's father, Frederick J. Romano, found his only daughter's body early the next day. Two weeks later, Oken attacked his wife's older sister, Patricia Hirt, inside his White Marsh townhouse, where the 43-year-old Hirt had come to return a camera. Two days later, he was arrested in Maine - but not before he sexually assaulted and fatally shot motel clerk Lori Ward.

Suzanne Tsintolas, Ward's older sister and a Rockville lawyer, said a few days ago that the execution would "help to maintain my faith in our judicial system." "My sister was ripped away from our family, and we can't get her back. But at least this evil person won't be walking among us."

Outside the prison after the execution, the crowd of death penalty advocates lingered to celebrate. As the hearse containing Oken's remains pulled away at 10:25 p.m., the crowd chanted "na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey goodbye." Taking in the scene, Fred J. Romano, Garvin's father, said "I'm feeling great right now. I feel finally justice has been done. And I just want to say this: I cradled my dead daughter's body in my arms when I found her. I attempted to give her CPR. The way this guy died, he died too easy. He had no right to die in dignity, no right at all."

OKEN TIMELINE (Originally published June 18, 2004)

1987

Nov. 2: The father of newlywed Dawn Marie Garvin, 20, finds her nude body in her White Marsh apartment. She had been raped, tortured and shot to death.

Nov. 16: The nude body of Patricia Antoinette Hirt, 43, is discovered in a drainage ditch along White Marsh Boulevard. She had been sexually assaulted and shot to death. Oken, having fled to Maine, sexually assaults and shoots to death motel clerk Lori Elizabeth Ward, 25.

Nov. 17: Oken is arrested at a Freeport, Maine, inn.

1989

June 23: Oken is sentenced in Maine to life in prison for killing the motel clerk.

1991

Jan 25: Oken is sentenced to death for the Garvin slaying.

April 23: Oken receives a life sentence for the Hirt slaying.

2002

Feb. 6: The Maryland Court of Appeals postpones Oken's pending execution indefinitely as he appeals a Court of Appeals ruling to the U.S. Supreme Court.

2003

Feb 11: Maryland Court of Appeals again postpones Oken's pending execution to hear his appeal that the state's death penalty law is unconstitutional.

2004

April 26: The Supreme Court declines to hear Oken's appeal of a Maryland Court of Appeals decision. Within hours, a third death warrant is signed, setting Oken's execution for the week of June 14.

June 9: The Maryland Court of Appeals refuses to delay the execution.

June 15: A U.S. District Court judge issues an indefinite stay of execution.

June 16: A federal appellate court upholds the stay. About eight hours later, the U.S. Supreme Court lifts the stay.

June 17: Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. denies Oken clemency.

"Judge postpones Oken's execution, spurring appeals; Death sentence may still go ahead," by Julie Bykowicz.

June 16, 2004 - The legal struggle surrounding condemned killer Steven Oken's fate moved at a furious pace yesterday, as a federal judge delayed the execution -- and attorneys for the state promptly appealed so that he may yet be put to death before week's end.

A decision from the three-judge panel from the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit in Richmond, Va., could come as early as today. The judges could let stand the lower court decision to hold further hearings in the case next month. Or they could clear the way for Oken to be executed by lethal injection before his death warrant expires at midnight Friday. Either side could appeal to the Supreme Court.

Fred Warren Bennett, Oken's lead attorney, called the federal ruling a "big-time win." "Mr. Oken is very relieved that the court ... signed the order," Bennett said. "He has read it ... and he hopes to continue to be able to live."

The family of one of Oken's victims continued to call for his execution, holding a vigil outside the state penitentiary complex in Baltimore, where Oken is being held."It's time to end the injustice," said Fred A. Romano, the brother of Oken's first victim, Dawn Marie Garvin, after learning of the federal judge's decision. "It's time to go with what a jury of his peers decided would be his fate."

A dramatic day of legal developments began at 10 a.m. when U.S. District Judge Peter J. Messitte's decision was posted on the court's Web site. He called for a hearing July 19 to determine whether Maryland's execution procedures violate the Constitution's ban on "cruel and unusual punishment." Monday, Oken's attorneys had argued before Messitte in his Greenbelt courtroom that there had been a leak in the intravenous line that delivered the anesthetic and deadly chemicals during the execution of Tyrone X. Gilliam in 1998, meaning he may have suffered before death. Lawyers for the state did not deny that a leak had occurred, but asserted that the procedure did not constitute a violation of the Eighth Amendment's prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment. The Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services issued a statement yesterday, saying that the Gilliam execution was "performed humanely and painlessly."

Oken asked the state last month for its execution protocol, according to his attorneys. Messitte wrote that he found it "troubling" that the state did not quickly provide a complete copy of its procedures, which had been recently amended. "Fundamental fairness, if not due process, requires that the execution protocol that will regulate an inmate's death be forwarded to him in prompt and timely fashion," the judge wrote. Messitte wrote that he is "deeply solicitous of the family and friends of Dawn Marie Garvin and acknowledges their desire, after so many years, to see closure in this case. "Nevertheless it is the court's duty ... to see that the guarantees of the U.S. Constitution are respected, even in the case of someone who may be despised by the entire polity."

By early afternoon, the Maryland attorney general's office had sent its written argument to the Richmond court via fax. Oken's team quickly filed its response. At day's end, the Virginia judges had the documents before them. Both sides have already prepared appeals to the Supreme Court in response to whatever the 4th Circuit's decision may be.

Andrew D. Levy, an instructor at the University of Maryland's law school and a trial lawyer for more than 20 years, said he expected "a race" if the appeals court overturns Messitte's ruling. "Oken's lawyers would then rush to get the Supreme Court to reinstate the stay, and the state might immediately try to execute Oken," he said. Three inmates have been put to death by lethal injection since the state resumed executions a decade ago.

Oken was sentenced to death in 1991 for the 1987 rape and murder of Garvin, a White Marsh newlywed. He also was convicted of sexually assaulting and murdering two other women: Patricia Antoinette Hirt, his wife's older sister, and Lori Elizabeth Ward, a motel clerk in Maine.

Death penalty opponents who gathered near the Supermax prison last night said they were pleased with the federal judge's ruling. "What's the problem with waiting until July 19?" asked Max Obuszewski, a peace activist who lives in Charles Village. "What's the rush to kill the guy?"

Earlier yesterday at East Madison Street and Greenmount Avenue, Garvin's friends and relatives gathered with signs that urged the state to "kill the beast" and noted that the women Oken murdered "weren't given any appeals." Garvin's brother said his family has grown accustomed to the delays and appeals that have accompanied Oken's capital-murder conviction. "If the criminal justice system was there for justice, Steven Oken would have been dead 17 years ago," said Fred A. Romano said, wearing a sign with photographs of his sister and the two other women Oken killed.

Romano said he hopes the state legislature will pass a law limiting the number of appeals death row inmates can file. And he said he and his family remain optimistic that Oken will be put to death. "I'm only sorry he will fall asleep peacefully," he said. "Call it vengeance. Call it revenge. Call it what you will. I call it justice."

Sun staff writer Gus G. Sentementes, Jennifer McMenamin, Laurie Willis contributed to this article.

"Curran's views raise concern over conflict; Attorney general's call to abolish death penalty draws rebukes from some," by David Nitkin. (June 16, 2004)

A federal judge had derailed execution plans for convicted murderer Steven Oken, and a final push was needed before a killer could receive an injection of toxins. So the office of one of Maryland's most prominent death-penalty opponents sprang into action. Lawyers working for state Attorney General J. Joseph Curran Jr. rushed legal papers to a federal appeals court in Virginia yesterday, urging the panel to reverse the decision of U.S. District Judge Peter J. Messitte to stay Oken's execution. They were arguing for an outcome that would violate a deeply held belief of their boss.

Curran has publicly renounced the death penalty, even as he is sworn to uphold its implementation. Yesterday's flurry of activity inside the attorney general's office highlighted the potential for conflict created by Curran's personal views and the professional responsibilities of the office he oversees. "He is on the hot seat because he is an opponent of the death penalty, and everybody knows that," said Richard J. Dowling, a lobbyist for the Maryland Catholic Conference, which opposes executions. "It requires an artful tightrope for someone who believes as he does and who at the same time upholds the public trust."

A devout Catholic who has overseen the three executions since Maryland's death penalty was reinstated in 1978, Curran has opposed capital punishment for decades. But he carved a more visible position early in 2003, when he publicly called for the abolition of state-sanctioned killing. "Capital punishment comes only at the intolerable risk of killing an innocent person," Curran said at the time, adding that he would actively push for laws eliminating the penalty in light of evidence of racial and regional disparities in its implementation.

His statement and subsequent testimony in favor of anti-death penalty legislation drew rebukes from those who questioned whether Curran, a Democrat, could fulfill his public obligations despite his personal beliefs. Critics repeated those concerns yesterday, as Curran's office was scrambling to file motions to convince the U.S. Court of Appeals in Richmond to remove the execution stay imposed by Messitte and allow Oken to die by Friday, when a death warrant is to expire. "I just hope that the attorney general hasn't put us in a compromising position with regard to a vigorous defense," said Del. Anthony J. O'Donnell, the House Republican whip from Southern Maryland. "It was poor judgment on the part of the attorney general to make such a public pronouncement on such a controversial issue."

Curran was traveling to California for a national conference yesterday and did not respond to a request for a telephone interview. Other lawyers in the office said Curran had no direct communication with them yesterday as motions were being prepared. "He always takes seriously the oath and the responsibilities of the office, despite his personal views," said Donna Hill Staton, Curran's top deputy. "That's something he's made very clear."

Few political observers question the integrity of Curran, 72, the former lieutenant governor, state senator and delegate who is in his fifth term as attorney general. "He is sworn to uphold the Constitution, and he has shown he is able to do that," said Montgomery County State's Attorney Douglas F. Gansler, a Democrat who is considering a run for attorney general in 2006. "At first blush, you might say there is the appearance of a conflict, but there really isn't."

Death-penalty cases weigh heavily on Curran, as they do all attorneys in the office, said Carmen M. Shepard, a former deputy attorney general. "I can tell you from personal experience that it is far more harrowing and draining than I had ever imagined," said Shepard, who left the office for private practice in 2002.

While Curran is careful at drawing a line between his personal beliefs and his professional duties, he has also articulated why he has spoken out, she said. "At the end of the day, he has said, you are accountable for your positions, and you have to do something about it," Shepard said. For Curran, she said, "the place to do that is the legislature," by testifying on bills and advocating for law changes.

Sen. Nancy Jacobs, a Harford County Republican and death-penalty supporter, said families of crime victims may not feel comfortable with Curran's views. "I like people who vigorously want to uphold the law and don't have a known bias going into something," Jacobs said. "And it is obvious that the man has a known bias on this subject." But Jacobs said she spoke yesterday with members of Oken victim Dawn Marie Garvin's family who said they were pleased with how the criminal appeals division of Curran's office was handling the case.

Trying to aid son before execution; Oken's parents attend rallies, speak to him daily as sentence draws near," by Julie Bykowicz. (June 14, 2004)

Steven Oken and his mother talk on the phone nearly every day, and she visits him every week. But in 17 years of conversations about such varied topics as local sports teams and world events, there's a topic that Davida Oken says she hasn't ever broached: the crimes that put her son on death row. "Why bring it up?" she asks. "I have never asked him for details, for an explanation. What good would it do?"

Steven Oken, the son of a pharmacist, was 25 years old and married in November 1987 when he raped and killed three women. Now, his mother says, there's another subject that she avoids when talking to her son: his scheduled execution, which could take place as soon as today. "It's hard to make conversation without him getting upset or me getting upset," Davida Oken says. "There will be plenty of time for me to be upset later. Right now I try to keep him laughing and smiling."

As the scheduled execution has neared, Davida Oken and her husband, David, have participated in several anti-death-penalty rallies. Attorneys for Steven Oken are working to delay his execution to allow a legal challenge to Maryland's lethal-injection process. They were preparing an appeal to the Supreme Court, and a hearing is scheduled for this afternoon in U.S. District Court in Greenbelt.

Steven Howard Oken was adopted at birth and raised in a stable, upper-middle-class family in Randallstown, his mother says. He has a younger brother and a sister, both of whom have successful careers. Davida Oken says the siblings remain in contact with their brother. Oken's bar mitzvah was Jan. 25, 1975, at Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, his mother says, and though the family was never strictly observant, the children spent High Holy Days at the synagogue, where their parents were members for 27 years before withdrawing their membership.

He played many sports and was on the lacrosse team at Randallstown High School, Davida Oken says. He studied health science for three years at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, but he withdrew a few credits shy of a degree, she says. Although Oken had a conventional childhood, Davida Oken says, he reacted badly when his parents told him at age 10 or 11 that he had been adopted. At Oken's sentencing hearing in 1991, she testified that he "screamed in disbelief for two hours."

As he grew into a young man, Oken began working alongside his father at his business, Oken's Rexall Pharmacy, across from Johns Hopkins Hospital. He married a young woman named Phyllis Hirt, whom his mother says he had met through the pharmacy. (She divorced him after his arrest.)

Davida Oken says signs of trouble emerged in 1986, when her son started "running away from a lot of things. He used drugs -- cocaine, marijuana, prescription medications -- and abused alcohol." She says she noticed a physical change in her son and that she and his father demanded that he seek help if he wanted to continue to work as a pharmacy technician.

Oken saw a psychiatrist off and on for about a year, she says. But in the fall of 1987, he began getting into trouble with the law, according to police and court records. He was arrested Oct. 13 and charged with beating up a motel clerk in East Baltimore. A week later, Oken attacked a prostitute in a parking lot at the Inner Harbor after he refused to pay her in advance, police said after his arrest in the three women's murders.

The night of Nov. 1, 1987, Oken posed alternately as a stranded motorist and a doctor as he sought entrance to apartments in White Marsh, court testimony would show. His wife was in California on a business trip. According to the testimony, he knocked on Dawn Marie Garvin's door. Her husband of four months had left that evening to return to his naval base in Virginia. She let him inside. Oken raped Garvin and sexually assaulted her with a condiment bottle, and then he shot her twice in the head.

As Baltimore County police searched for Garvin's killer, Oken attended a Nov. 9 hearing in the motel clerk's assault. He received probation before judgment and was ordered to seek alcohol treatment. He was arrested Nov. 14 just south of White Marsh and charged with driving while intoxicated.

The next day, Patricia Hirt disappeared. Police found her nude body in a ditch along White Marsh Boulevard on Nov. 16. They searched Steven Oken's apartment and found evidence that he had sexually assaulted and killed Hirt, his wife's older sister. There they also found ballistic evidence linking him to Garvin's death.

That day, driving Hirt's white Ford Mustang, Oken made it to Kittery, Maine, where he sexually assaulted and fatally shot motel clerk Lori Ward. He checked into another motel, and that's where Maine police arrested him Nov. 17. From the moment Oken was arrested, his parents have been unconditionally supportive, paying expensive legal and psychiatric bills and spending as much time with him as they can. "He is my son," his father told The Evening Sun in 1989. "It's horrible. We close our eyes sometimes and hope it will all go away, but then you realize that it happened and is a fact and you have to deal with it."

Attempts to obtain an interview with Steven Oken were unsuccessful. In a 2001 article in the Baltimore Jewish Times, he talked of his drug and alcohol abuse, personal problems and depression, and said, "I can't point to one thing that made this happen. ... I just didn't want to deal with everything." "There are no excuses for what I've done," he told the Jewish Times. "And I can't begin to imagine the suffering, the cost of what I've done to these people. It's a terrible thing I did." He has become more religious during his time behind bars, his mother says. He practices Orthodox Judaism, attaching tefillin, boxes containing biblical verse, to his body, she says.

Oken is 42 now. His 5-foot, 10-inch frame is heavier than it used to be, his mother says, and his hair is gray. Because of prison rules, the Okens say, they have not been able to touch their son in more than a decade, ever since he was moved to the Maryland Correctional Adjustment Center, better known as Supermax. Still, Steven Oken is allowed to call his parents, sometimes more than once a day. In her 30- to 45-minute visits, Davida Oken says, the two talk about their family. They talk about auto racing, the Ravens and the Orioles. Davida Oken says she has seen her son every day since June 1, when he was moved to solitary confinement in preparation for his scheduled execution. She says she is running out of ways to make small talk.

Lost lives, lost hopes mourned; Families: Relatives of women slain by Steven Oken recall their loved ones and ponder what might have been," by Julie Bykowicz. (June 13, 2004)

Dawn Marie Garvin would be 37 years old now, and her family has no doubt that she'd have a house full of kids and a successful accounting career. She'd be an aunt to her brother's stepson and two little girls, one of whom is named after her. She'd probably stop by for dinner at her brother's townhouse in Harford County, and she'd visit her parents.

But in November 1987, the lives of Garvin and two other women - Patricia Hirt, who'd be a grandmother now, and Lori Ward, who perhaps would have fulfilled her dream of becoming a veterinarian - were cut short by Steven Oken. With the convicted killer at the brink of execution, his victims' families fondly remembered their loved ones, pained by thoughts of what might have been. Seventeen years ago, Garvin was feeling good about her chances of landing an accounting job for a company at Baltimore's World Trade Center. She was 20 years old, with red hair and an easy smile. She'd been working as a secretary for the military and taking accounting classes at Harford Community College.

That summer, the former Dawn Marie Romano had married a naval officer named Keith Garvin, her boyfriend since their days at Harford County's Joppatowne High School. Dawn Garvin adopted a poodle puppy she named Pepper to keep her company while her husband was on base in Oceana, Va., and was busy making a home of the White Marsh apartment they'd rented. One day, the young wife called her mother, Betty Romano, to ask for a lasagna recipe. Her husband was leaving that night for the Navy base, and she wanted to cook him something special before he left.

After dinner, Keith Garvin took off on his motorcycle for Virginia. He later called his wife to say he'd arrived safely, but there was no answer. Dawn Garvin's father went to check on her, and he found his only daughter dead. She'd been raped, sexually assaulted with a condiment bottle and shot twice in the head. Her family says Garvin no doubt would have had a good life. "I miss my daughter more than anything," Fred J. Romano says. "She was a pure joy, with her whole life ahead of her."

Grandchildren

Patricia Hirt would probably still be best friends with her two daughters, whom she raised in Hamilton as a single mother. Her girls were 17 and 18 when she was killed. She was 43. She'd also be a grandmother. Her younger daughter, Jessica, has a 17-month-old girl and twin girls on the way.

A longtime administrative secretary at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Hirt was beloved by her colleagues, who still talk about her on Internet message boards. She worked to send her daughters to Notre Dame Preparatory School. Her daughters believe their mother would be proud of their careers. Monique Klapka, 35, is a nurse midwife. And Jessica - who is uncomfortable with her last name being used in the newspaper - is a school guidance counselor. "We were three peas in a pod," Klapka says. People always described Hirt, with her brown hair, brown eyes and warm smile, as an attractive and caring person, Klapka says. She volunteered with the Special Olympics and loved to ski - a pastime she passed along to both daughters.

Klapka last saw her mother at a mother-daughter weekend at Hood College in Frederick. A few days later, Baltimore County detectives found Hirt's nude body in a ditch along White Marsh Boulevard. She had gone to return a camera to her younger sister's husband, Steven Oken, at their White Marsh apartment. He raped and beat her, then shot her. Oken took off in Hirt's white Ford Mustang, heading north.

Love of animals

Lori Ward, who worked as a motel clerk in Maine in November 1987, would be 42 now. Suzanne Tsintolas believes her younger sister would have become a veterinarian and continued educating children about the responsibilities that come with having a pet. Instead, there's a memorial fund in Ward's name at the New Hampshire Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

Ward was tall and thin, and she considered herself an "ugly duckling," says Tsintolas, a lawyer who lives in Rockville. "No one else felt that way about her, of course."

Ward was living with her parents in Portsmouth, N.H., taking classes at the University of New Hampshire and working part time at the Coachman Motor Inn in Kittery, Maine. She had decided that, after Christmas, she would stop working to concentrate on making progress toward a veterinary degree. Even as a little girl, Ward loved animals, her sister says. When she was about 10, she picked out a miniature poodle and named her Misty. It was the family's dog, but the poodle adored Lori and followed her everywhere, her sister says. After Ward's murder, Tsintolas says, Misty stopped eating and died.

A maintenance man at the inn found Ward's body. She had been sexually assaulted and shot.

Just before Ward's father died two years ago, he asked Tsintolas to see to it that the man who killed his youngest daughter paid for his crimes with his life. "He said, 'Stay with it for me,'" Tsintolas says. "'Stay the course. Don't let it go.'"

The three victims' families saw Oken be held accountable for the slayings. He pleaded guilty in Maine to Ward's murder, and he pleaded guilty in Baltimore County to Hirt's murder. A Baltimore County jury found him guilty of Garvin's murder and, in January 1991, sentenced him to death.

Over the next 13 years, the families have had limited contact with one another. Tsintolas says she met the Romanos early in Oken's appeals process. Tsintolas says she and Fred A. Romano, Garvin's brother, have had lengthy phone conversations about having lost a sibling to murder. Last week, some of Hirt's relatives, including Klapka, met with the Romanos in Bel Air. Each family plans to have a representative among the witnesses if Oken's final appeals fail and he is executed by lethal injection this week.

Victim's family awaits killer's execution; After years of delays, lethal injection scheduled next week for Oken," by Julie Bykowicz. (June 8, 2004)

The Romano family is getting ready. Betty Romano, mother of Dawn Marie Garvin, has pulled out two of her slain daughter's stuffed animals to bring along if the state carries out the death penalty against the killer. She has affixed handmade signs to the windows of her Buick announcing the scheduled execution. Garvin's father, Fred J. Romano, and brother, Fred A. Romano, are making plans to stand outside Maryland's death row, amid death penalty protesters, on execution night.

The Romanos know that Steven Oken - who nearly 17 years ago raped and murdered Garvin and two other women - has a motion before the state's highest court today asking the judges to delay his court-ordered death by lethal injection. And they know that twice before the court has granted similar requests. But, Betty Romano, 57, said yesterday, "This is the closest we've ever come." Less than a week before the first day that Oken's death sentence could be carried out, the Romanos hope that they might finally see what they call justice for Garvin.

When a Baltimore County prosecutor called Betty Romano yesterday at her Aberdeen apartment with a daily update, she told him, "If this falls through, I will be a disaster." The signs in her car windows urge people to "join us at the execution for Steven H. Oken. ... Free Admission." Deputy State's Attorney Stephen Bailey said that for the Romanos the years of delays have been "a hellish emotional roller coaster."

In the early morning hours of Nov. 2, 1987, Fred J. Romano found his only daughter dead in her White Marsh apartment, nude, her face covered by a pillow, in a pool of blood on her bed. She had been raped and sexually assaulted with a condiment bottle before Oken, a man she'd never met, shot her in the head. A stuffed bear - one her mother plans to hold if she witnesses Oken's execution - was tucked under her arm.

Garvin, 20, an accountant and college student, had been married about four months to her high school sweetheart, naval officer Keith Garvin. He had returned to base in Virginia the day she was murdered. Fred J. Romano, 60, said the memory of that scene and the loss he feels stoke bitterness and hatred. But he said he tries to contain those feelings and approach capital punishment in a matter-of-fact way: "The death penalty was rendered after a trial, and the state is obligated to carry out that sentence," he said yesterday at his son's townhouse in the Belcamp area of Harford County.

"My dad is much more rational than me," said Fred A. Romano, 34. The younger Romano makes no attempt to couch his feelings about Oken: "There is one person on this Earth that I could kill in cold blood," he said. "And that person is Steven Oken." About three years ago, Fred A. Romano said, he came to believe that the voices of family members of murder victims were being drowned out by outspoken death penalty opponents.

He created a Web site, called Maryland Coalition for State Executions, mc4se.org, and began posting information about death penalty cases in Maryland. Last year, his wife, Vicki Romano, developed a national companion, prodeathpenalty.org. Recently, he added a clock that counts the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the death warrant for Oken goes into effect.

Garvin's death and the shocking way that she died have taken a heavy toll on the family. Her parents separated about three years ago, something that Betty Romano attributes, at least in part, to the murder and its aftereffects. She created a support group called Families of Murdered Loved Ones, but she eventually dissolved the group because "every minute of every day, I was reliving the pain."

Fred A. Romano said it pains him to know that his children - two little girls and a teenage stepson - never got to meet "Aunt Dawn." "Oken cheated them, too," he said. He contemplated what he would write on the signs he plans to hold outside the prison hospital in Baltimore the night of Oken's execution, if it happens. He thinks they will say, "Judgment Day has come."

Washington Post

"Maryland Executes Oken; 1987 Rampage in 2 States Left 3 Women Dead," by Susan Levine. (June 18, 2004)

BALTIMORE, June 17 -- Steven Howard Oken, the Maryland inmate whom a prosecutor once called a "poster boy" for capital punishment, was put to death shortly after 9 p.m. Thursday for the murder of a young Baltimore County college student and newlywed nearly a generation ago.

A trio of chemicals -- color-coded red, green and blue by a team of hidden executioners -- was pumped into Oken's veins starting at 9:09 p.m. Within minutes, the lethal injection rendered him unconscious, paralyzed his lungs and, finally, stopped his heart. Witnesses said his face turned ashen as the solution started to flow, but there apparently were no complications. It was the first capital sentence carried out by the state since 1998 and came only after the U.S. Supreme Court lifted a stay of execution late Wednesday.

Observing the moment inside the old Maryland penitentiary in downtown Baltimore were not just Dawn Marie Garvin's husband and mother but relatives of the two other women he sexually assaulted and fatally shot during a two-week rampage from Maryland to Maine in November 1987. "I want to thank God. This is finally over," said Betty Romano, Garvin's mother. "The only problem is Steven Oken died in peace. My daughter didn't have the luxury to die in peace, as I saw Steven Oken die tonight."

Oken's former wife, Phyllis Hirt Ryan, whose sister was killed by Oken, was among the witnesses. "After 17 years of torture, her nemesis is gone," said her husband, Mark Ryan. "She wanted to see justice done for her fallen sister."

Outside the prison, in the shadows of its medieval-looking walls and turrets, demonstrators and counter-demonstrators gathered for hours, some hoisting posters, some holding candles in a scene alternately raucous and somber. At the center of the crowd of death penalty supporters stood Garvin's father and brother. "I feel good right now. I feel very good right now," said her father, Fred Romano Sr., who had waited through years of legal appeals for Oken to die. "I thought for a while he would outlive me."

David and Davida Oken, who had maintained as tireless a campaign to save their son as the Romanos had to see him put to death, were not at the prison Thursday night.

With the window rapidly closing on his life, the 42-year-old Oken had spent the day meeting with two rabbis, his parents and sister and his attorneys, whose final efforts to find other legal issues to save their client were rebuffed by three federal courts. The Supreme Court refused another petition in which the prisoner contended that he had suffered from ineffective representation at his 1991 trial. Word on his final, failed appeal to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit came just 19 minutes before the execution was set to begin at 9 p.m.

"The system has failed," said attorney Fred Bennett, who has represented Oken for more than decade. "It's broken. It cannot be repaired." Bennett remained with this client until 7:30 p.m., giving him a hug through the cell bars, and witnessed the execution. "I said: 'You are not alone. You will not stand alone. I will be with you till the last breath of your life.' And I was," Bennett recounted in a choked voice.

One of Oken's last hopes had been Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. (R), whom he had asked to commute the capital sentence to life without parole. At 5:08 p.m., Ehrlich's office faxed the defense a three-paragraph statement announcing that the governor had denied the request. Ehrlich, a strong supporter of the death penalty, had pledged repeatedly since taking office that he would carefully review any case that came before him. This was his first opportunity to do so, and Ehrlich wrote that he had employed "a deliberative process," examining all the facts and judicial opinions, and "as thoughtful decision making as I am able to summon in this so tragic matter."

In an interview earlier in the day, Ehrlich said he was not troubled by the weight of the decision. "That's why I get paid," he said. "Executives make decisions. If you have difficulty making tough decisions, maybe you shouldn't be an executive. It's part of the job."

Oken faced the death penalty for Garvin's slaying. He received two terms of life without parole for his other crimes -- the killing in Maryland of his sister-in-law, Patricia Hirt, and the slaying of Lori Ward, a young motel clerk in Maine whom he chanced upon while fleeing up the coast. By agreement between the states, had Ehrlich granted clemency to any degree, Oken would have been transferred to Maine and served the rest of his life behind bars there. The governor's conclusion, though, was no surprise: "It is my decision not to override the judicial determinations of the sentence of death imposed upon Steven Oken." In a separate statement, he said, "My sympathies tonight lie with the families of all those involved in these heinous crimes."

The various groups that have rallied around Oken, despite the details of the murders and his undisputed guilt, lamented Ehrlich's refusal to intervene. "That would have been the humane thing to do and would have avoided the media circus" of the past week, said Cathy Knepper, Amnesty International's coordinator for abolition of the death penalty in Maryland. "I'm thinking of the Romano and Oken families. This was all unnecessary, and I can't imagine what it's put these two families through. Because he clearly was never going to get out."

But after more than a decade of court appeals, Bennett said his client was "ready to die." Before being transported across the street from the Supermax prison, where officials recently moved him from death row to solitary confinement, Oken composed a two-page letter to Ehrlich that Bennett said expresses contrition.

Oken offered no words for the witnesses as he lay on the padded, stainless steel table, catheters inserted in both arms and a pale blue sheet pulled up to his chest. Witnesses said Oken was conscious and seemed to be joking with a prison chaplain immediately before the procedure. He offered no resistance as the solution began to flow at 9:09. There was no movement after 9:11. He was pronounced dead at 9:18.

Seventeen years ago, Oken was a college dropout working at his parents' pharmacy near Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore and watching as his marriage fell apart. He'd been drinking heavily, stealing antidepressants and other drugs from the pharmacy shelves and generally spiraling downward. In court, he initially claimed that he could not remember what happened the night Garvin was killed -- a memory lapse he blamed on the booze, pills and a "sexual sadism" that he could not control. Psychiatrists who testified for him after he recovered his memory late in the trial provided horrific details of what he said he did to Garvin after he approached her as she walked her dog and persuaded her to let him use her phone. Garvin's father discovered her body in her White Marsh apartment, a nightmarish scene that has haunted him ever since.

"You are a very evil and dangerous man," declared Baltimore County Circuit Judge James T. Smith Jr. at the conclusion of Oken's trial in 1991. His death penalty launched appeals in state and federal court on a multiplicity of issues. Twice, Maryland's highest court came within one vote of ruling that Supreme Court decisions had rendered his sentence illegal. One death warrant lapsed because of an execution moratorium imposed by then-Gov. Parris N. Glendening (D), responding to growing concern about racial and geographic disparities in the way the system is administered in Maryland.

Staff writer Matthew Mosk contributed to this report.

Washington Post

"Powerful Feelings Converge on Oken; Execution Supporters, Death Penalty Foes Gather Outside Md. Prison," by Darragh Johnson and Susan Levine. (June 18, 2004)

BALTIMORE, June 17 -- Just after 6 p.m. -- three hours before the man who brutally raped, tortured, then murdered his sister was scheduled to die -- a hoarse Fred Romano drove up to the curb on Madison Street. Days of shouting in favor of death for convicted murderer Steven H. Oken had cost him his voice, but the messages scrawled on the tinted windows of his silver Jeep Grand Cherokee said everything:

JUSTICE HAS BEEN 17 YEARS TOO LONG - JUDGEMENT DAY IS HERE - OKEN MUST GO

And across the back windshield -- beneath a teddy bear perched on the roof to signify the sexual torture Romano's sister endured -- were the words:

IN LOVING MEMORY - DAWN MARIE GARVIN

Nearly 17 years had passed since Romano last saw his sister as she headed out of her Baltimore County apartment to walk her dog. Somewhere along the way, she encountered Oken. Thirteen years had passed since Oken was sentenced to die for her murder. Finally, after another last-minute reprieve was struck down by the Supreme Court, Oken was assigned a time and date of execution: 9 p.m. Thursday. Romano wasn't going to miss it.

His wife, Vicki, got out of the car with a cooler and a pile of signs she placed on nearby benches. They stood at the edge of Maryland's Supermax prison, a sprawling sea of brick buildings surrounded by a double circle of barbed wire. As Romano held up a sign urging death for Oken, he sighed heavily, took a drag on his cigarette and nervously tapped his right foot. "Waiting. I'm waiting," he said. "When he's dead, I'll have peace. Dawn will have peace. My dad will have peace." Romano paused. "We'll all have peace."

Often when the Romano family had lobbied for capital punishment in Annapolis, the family felt outnumbered by death penalty opponents. This time, the honking cars and chanting crowd suggested that they had plenty of support. At one point, a stranger walked up to Romano's father, also Fred, and embraced him. "Give me a hug," Jeannette Edmonds of Baltimore said to him. "I'm so sorry. I had to be here. God bless you."

Two blocks away, two women carried a sign that said: "No more killing; Stop executions." They were walking to the other side of the prison, where police officers had told death penalty opponents to wait. "It's sad. This execution won't bring healing to the families. Only forgiveness brings healing," said Susan Crane, 60, of Baltimore.

Art Laffin of Northwest Washington stood among the protesters, his heart with the families of Oken's victims as well as with the death penalty opponents. He said his brother, an associate director of a homeless center in Hartford Conn., was stabbed to death outside the center five years ago. "How do you break the cycle of violence with more violence?" he said, adding: "My . . . prayers go out to the Garvin and Romano families. I know the terrible anguish they've experienced."

Down the street, Betty Romano, Dawn Garvin's mother, was escorted soon after into the prison to witness Oken's death. The elder Fred Romano said he decided against watching the execution so that he could offer support to his son and daughter-in-law as they stood outside. The father acknowledged that he was curious what Oken's final words would be. "I'd like him to say, 'I'm sorry,' in his own words," he said. "Not his attorney. Not his psychiatrist. I'd like him to say, 'I'm sorry,' for what he did. All he's ever done is snicker, laugh and mock us." The elder Fred Romano would soon learn that Oken did not make a final statement but composed a two-page letter to Gov. Robert L. Ehrlich Jr. (R) expressing his contrition.

The younger Fred Romano stood near his father, waiting nervously for news of the execution. "I want this over with," he said at 9:18, 18 minutes after the procedure was scheduled to begin. Another 20 minutes passed before he grabbed the bullhorn and announced to the crowd that Oken was dead. Amid the cheering, someone asked him what life would be like now. "That's what we'll find out tomorrow morning," he said. "This starts the day." He continued: "I just thank God that it has finally come to an end. The burden has been lifted. Oken is dead."

Down the street, Stephanie Gibson, 49, a professor at the University of Baltimore, approached the microphone in front of about 80 death penalty opponents and delivered the news. "I've just been told that Steven Oken was executed tonight," she said. "Boo on Maryland," shouted a woman in the back of the crowd. "Boo on Maryland. Shame on our governor." The crowd fell quiet.

WBAL Channel 11

"Murder Victims Of Steven Oken." (June 17, 2004)

Steven Oken was sentenced to death for the 1987 murder and rape of Dawn Marie Garvin, (pictured, right) a 20-year-old newlywed. He also was convicted of killing Patricia Hirt, his wife's sister, and Lori Ward, a motel clerk in Maine, during a 15-day spree.

The following is a look back at the victims.

Dawn Marie Garvin, 20, Army secretary and accounting student at Harford Community College. Killed Nov. 1, 1987, in her White Marsh, Md., apartment.

Patricia A. Hirt, 43, Johns Hopkins Hospital administrative secretary, found in a ditch beside White Marsh Boulevard in White Marsh, Md., on Nov. 16, 1987. She was a sister of Oken's wife.

Lori Ward, 25, of Portsmouth, N.H., motel clerk and student at University of New Hampshire, found Nov. 16, 1987, at the Coachman Motor Inn in Kittery, Maine.

The New Abolitionist

"Mother Of Steven Oken Speaks Out: "We’ve been to hell and back."

Davida Oken is the mother of Steven Oken, a Maryland death row prisoner who had an execution date set for early March, but won a stay. She talked to John Coursey about her fight for her son’s life.

What is it like having a son on death row?

Having a son on death row is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. Sometimes you think that you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up from this horrible nightmare. It’s impossible to convey the pain and fear that our family faces at this time, except to say that I hope no mother ever has to go through what we are going through right now.

I’ve learned to appreciate every day that I can share with Steve. Every visit with Steve and every phone call is a bonus to me. My family and I have had to reassess our priorities. There are many ups and downs -- every hearing and appeal can either make you happy or very sad.

When Steven received his stay of execution from the Maryland Court of Appeals, I felt that a tremendous weight had been lifted from me. The feeling of gloom disappeared and I felt hope, even though it may be temporary. I hope that the Supreme Court will hear his case and realize that there are many problems with the death penalty in Maryland and in the United States.

Maryland is in the midst of a big debate over whether to continue executions. From your experience, what would you tell Marylanders about their state’s death penalty system?

The Maryland Court of Appeals has stated that "the legislature needs to look into new sentencing guidelines in issuing a death penalty." The death penalty in Maryland is now based on a preponderance of evidence rather than absolute certainty -- beyond a reasonable doubt -- to kill a human being. Stronger standards are used to turn off a person’s electricity than to give a death penalty in Maryland.

Additionally, Steven was serving a life without parole sentence in Maine before he was given the death penalty in Maryland. We believe that the first sentence should have been carried out before he can serve this death penalty sentence in Maryland. This was strictly a political move by the governor of Maryland.

Also, the governor has ordered a study to look into the administration of the death penalty in the state, and this study isn’t over until late into this year. Why are the prosecutors so anxious to kill without seeing the results of the study?

Where do you find hope in the fight for your son’s life?

I look for hope for Steven in the Supreme Court’s decision on the applicability of the Apprendi ruling on death penalty cases showing violations of due process.

I also believe that the pain of the victims’ family will not be addressed by Steven’s execution. Why do we have to face yet another murder, this time by the state of Maryland? What will this heal? Certainly it won’t bring the victim back, but it will make me and my family new victims.

We’ve been to hell and back -- what about our healing? If there wasn’t a death penalty, we would have healed, and so would the families of the victim, 14 years ago.

The Jewish Times

Steven Oken smiles and rolls his eyes. A few fleeting hours before the start of Passover, he contorts his large, bulky frame like a question mark to enable a correctional officer to unlock the heavy metal handcuffs that bind his wrists behind his back. He seems embarrassed and mildly annoyed with the amount of time required to unshackle him. Rubbing his elbows and massive forearms, he shakes his head and sits on a concrete stool. "Hey," he says from behind an ultra-thick plate glass window, running his fingers through his close-cropped, prematurely graying hair. "Happy Pesach."

If Steven Oken has made teshuvah (repentence) for brutally murdering three women, should he still be executed?

Taken aback, I simply say, "Thanks," and pause for a moment. "You, too." I study his round, smooth, well-shaven face carefully, as I have during all of our meetings over the past four years in visitation rooms like this one at the Maryland Correctional Adjustment Center, also known as Supermax prison in downtown Baltimore. It's a face I've known for nearly a quarter-century, since our days as schoolmates at Randallstown Senior High, Class of '80.

It might sound cliche but even then, something seemed different, perhaps inscrutable, about Oken. Maybe it was that smile, which really could be described as more of a kind of smirk, connoting a wise guy demeanor. Or those intense bluish-gray eyes that suggested a mixture of self-assurance and restlessness. "There was always a bit of an oddness about him," a childhood buddy of Oken's once told me, sounding like virtually anyone who's ever personally known a convicted killer.

Still, everyone — relatives, friends, former classmates, acquaintances — agrees he was basically your average suburban Jewish kid growing up in a tight-knit, hard-working, decent middle-class family that gave him lots of love and attention. Good grades, plenty of A-list friends, Pep Club member, strong athlete, cheerleader girlfriend, well-liked among teachers, attended temple, helped out at his parents' pharmacy.

"Lots of kids have tendencies where they might take the wrong road, but Steve wasn't one of them," Lincoln Bogart, Oken's varsity lacrosse coach at Randallstown, told me back in 1987. "There was nothing abnormal about him. As far as a sex maniac killer, I never saw it. He was a nice guy and got A's in all my classes."

Oh, he got into a little mischief, here and there. Some partying with pals. A few wild weekends. But no on-the-fringe, alienated, disgruntled, prone-to-violent-outbursts loner reminiscent of the Columbine killers or some type of deranged Unabomber figure. Nor was he an impressionable Timothy McVeigh ideologue in search of a cause and possible martyrdom. Just your average Jewish kid. But something went wrong. Terribly wrong. And not even Steven Oken himself is sure why. Jewish kids from Pikesville aren't supposed to sexually abuse, terrorize and murder women. But this one did — three of them.

Through the battered white speaker box mounted on the faded concrete wall, I barely hear Oken's voice above a din of clanging metal and shouting coming from the other side. We're exchanging grins and pleasantries, but he stops for a moment until the noise subsides. He still looks like the guy you share a beer or off-color joke with, but his face is somehow different this morning. A little older, more somber, maybe paler. He's wearing a green prison-issued jumpsuit, rather than his usual solid-colored shorts and T-shirt.

I immediately remind him that today — unlike our other meetings of schmoozing about old friends, current events, family news, his myriad appeals and frustrations with the prison system — we're finally going to talk, for the first time, about his case and the unspeakable, incomprehensible crimes he committed more than a decade ago. Up to now, it's been friendly, off-the-record chats between a pair of acquaintances who remember each other from their high school and college days. Now, it's a no-holds-barred interview.

He nods quietly, nervously, wringing his hands, knowing he's journeying into an area he hates to visit and rarely does, except within the solitude of his own mind and conscience, or maybe on occasion with legal counsel. It's a place he hates more than the hellhole of a home, also known as cell No. 34, that he landed for himself in the bowels of Supermax.

And he seems to hate it even more than the fate that could await him. "There are no excuses for what I've done," says Oken, 39. "And I can't begin to imagine the suffering, the cost of what I've done to these people. It's a terrible thing I did."

In a community that prides itself on producing what's considered the best in society, Steven Oken is generally thought of as an aberration, an anomaly. He is a Jew on Death Row, one of eight to 10 in the United States, according to the Aleph Institute, HOPE-HOWSE International and Jewish Prisoner Services International, all organizations that offer assistance to an estimated 4,000 Jewish inmates.

Oken is also one of 13 inmates — and the only Jew — on Maryland's Death Row. More than 13 years following his capture and incarceration — after pleading guilty to committing murder and being sentenced to life without parole in Maine, extradited to Maryland, sentenced to death by lethal injection by a Baltimore County jury in January 1991, and countless appeals on the federal and state levels — Oken remains on Death Row, trying desperately to stay alive.

Living in an 8-by-8-foot cell with only an hour of outside time per day, Oken — known by the state as no. 212-612 — can understand why some people might be perplexed by his resolve to evade execution. But he says his reasons are selfless. "I want to live for my family," he says. "They're also victims of what I've done. And if I'm executed, they'll be victims again. That's why I'm fighting this fight.

"Also, I think there's a lot of lessons to be learned from the past — what I did to get me here. Young people today, a lot of them are on drugs, alcohol abuse. I think a lot of people, myself included, can still contribute to society and talk to young people about the dangers of drug abuse. "I'm a good example of the worst thing that can happen to somebody when under the influence."

In the aftermath of the defeat of legislation proposing a two-year moratorium on executions in Maryland, Oken bought some extra time — at least several months — to fight his sentence as the Court of Appeals agreed two weeks ago to consider his appeal on constitutional issues. The case probably will not be heard until this fall.

As a result, Baltimore County State's Attorney Sandra O'Connor said last week that she would not seek a death warrant for Oken. Thirteen prominent local and national religious leaders — including Rabbi Mark G. Loeb of Pikesville's Beth El Congregation — have called on Gov. Parris N. Glendening to halt executions for two years.

"All of this has been more difficult for my family than it has been for me," Oken says about the roller coaster ride of legal and political maneuverings involving his case in recent months. "But I have a good feeling for how things will probably go."

Their names were Dawn Marie Garvin, Patricia Antoinette Hirt and Lori Elizabeth Ward.

Over a 15-day period in November 1987, Steven Howard Oken sexually assaulted, tortured and murdered these three young women. He characterizes that time as a turbulent period in his life in which he was grappling with severe drug and alcohol abuse, marital difficulties, financial and business concerns, and a self-described void or depression in his soul that he's never been able to adequately identify or reconcile. "I can't point to one thing that made this happen. I think I was trying to run from something," Oken says. "I don't know if run is even the right word. I just didn't want to deal with everything."

Oken, who had attended the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, was 25 and co-owned his family's Rexall Pharmacy near Johns Hopkins Hospital, where he worked as a clerk. His wife of a year, Phyllis, was away on business, near Seattle, during that time. The Okens, who did not have children and have since divorced, were planning a vacation in the Virgin Islands the following month.

But at the same time, Oken — who says he first experimented with marijuana while attending Old Court Junior High School — notes that he spent much of the period prior to the murders drinking heavily and taking cocaine, halcyon, Zanax and prescription drugs from his family's pharmacy. "I was depressed. I don't think I really appreciated what was happening. And instead of dealing with problems that came up, I found a way to escape. Drugs were what I was all about," he says.

Despite his track record, Oken — knowing how incredible this sounds coming from someone on Death Row — doesn't consider himself a violent person. "I know how I was brought up and the values my parents instilled in me, that taking someone's life is just horrendous," he says. "I've been a quiet, soft-spoken person all my life. Growing up, I didn't get into a lot of fights. I wasn't really confrontational. "If I was in my right mind, this wouldn't have happened. I don't want that to sound like an excuse. But before this happened, I didn't ever have a desire to physically hurt someone. People tell my parents it was completely out of character, and I agree with that."

According to published reports, Oken's first victim, Garvin, a 20-year-old newlywed, was found Nov. 2 shot in the head and sexually assaulted in her third-floor White Marsh apartment, four blocks from his modest, two-bedroom townhouse on Stillwood Circle. Her husband, who was in the U.S. Navy, had just returned to his base in Norfolk, Va. Neighbors in Garvin's Lincoln Woods complex reported that an apparently intoxicated man matching Oken's description had been knocking on doors the previous evening, claiming alternately to be a Baltimore County police officer, a physician whose pager went off, a stranded motorist needing assistance and a boyfriend who'd been kicked out of his house.

Hirt's nude body was found on the morning of Nov. 16 in a ditch beside White Marsh Boulevard. She had also been shot in the head, as well as strangled. The previous day, Hirt, 43, a Hamilton resident who was the sister of Oken's wife, had gone over to his house to drop off a camera. After receiving a missing person's report and finding her body, police searched Oken's home and found blood stains, signs of struggle, some of Hirt's clothing and the .25-caliber automatic pistol used to kill Garvin.

After stealing Hirt's 1979 white Ford Mustang, Oken drove to Kittery, Maine, and registered at the Coachman Motor Inn, using his real name and address. Hours later, Ward, a 25-year-old clerk at the motel who lived in Portsmouth, N.H., was found fatally shot in the head, bruised and sexually assaulted in an anteroom behind the front desk. More than $300 was missing from the cash register.

Oken, who knew the area well from vacationing there, subsequently drove 65 miles north to the Freeport Inn in the Maine coastal town of Freeport. The motel's manager, having heard a radio report about Ward's murder and a description of the Mustang, identified the car and called authorities.

After speaking on the phone with negotiators for a few minutes, Oken yelled, "I'm coming out, don't shoot," exited Room 215 unarmed and surrendered peacefully to Maine State Police Nov. 17 after more than 20 officers and tactical units surrounded the motel. Police found an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle and a .380-caliber automatic pistol, the one used to kill Hirt and Ward, in the blood-stained car.

Discovered in Oken's motel room in Freeport were wads of cash, a blood-stained surgeon's smock, a half-empty bottle of vodka and two pieces of nylon cord. He told police he had "a bad drug problem" and couldn't recall anything about the previous 24 hours. According to court records, Oken had been seeing a psychiatrist for about six months prior to the murders. Also, on Nov. 9, a week after Garvin's murder, Oken had received probation before judgment and was given one year of supervised probation for a case in which he was arrested Oct. 13 for punching and trying to sexually assault an East Baltimore hotel desk clerk. He was fined and ordered to undergo alcohol and drug treatment.

"Steven Oken thought he was above God, and he destroyed the lives of so many people," says Fred Romano, Dawn Garvin's brother. "People who do what he did can't be helped. He raped my sister in a horrible manner and got a kick out of it, and then he shot her twice in the head and killed her. That's how my father found her. "I don't care if he's Jewish or Arabic or what. If he goes to God and God forgives him, so be it. But as long as he's dead. Eventually, he's going to pay for what he did. He needs to accept his judgment and die for his crime. He should suffer." Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Romano, a former Marine, adds, "Let Steven Oken know I'm not going anywhere until he's dead. I won't rest."

Davida Oken paces around her tastefully decorated living room, talking on a cordless phone. In what's become a daily ritual, she's just accepted a collect call from her son on Death Row and is talking about the chances for a moratorium on executions.

Her tone, while for the most part controlled, occasionally borders on frantic. Mrs. Oken, who has become well-acquainted with state legislators and anti-death penalty groups, is a mother trying desperately to save her son's life. "Our life is a living hell, as far as constantly worrying about what will happen to him," Mrs. Oken, a soft-spoken woman with short hair and a round face, says in almost a whisper. "It's like a tremendous veil is put over your life. Not a day goes by when you don't think about him and pray he's going to live."

Her husband, David, a silver-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses and an easy smile, takes it a step further. "It's taken a big chunk of our lives and put it down the toilet," he says. "Over the years, it's been a drain."

Both Baltimore natives, the Okens — who asked that the whereabouts of their home not be identified in this article — speak hesitantly to me at first. Since my initial correspondence by mail with Steven in December of 1992, they've been reticent about generating more publicity regarding the case.

But it seems that as Oken's possible execution has drawn closer, they changed their minds, perhaps as a last measure for clemency, a final effort to set the record straight and get their views across. "The death penalty doesn't solve anything," Mrs. Oken tells me. "It doesn't prevent murders or save money. It's all about retribution. But why must another family suffer? We're victims, too. Why do my children and grandchildren have to suffer murder from the state? Living in the rat hole Steven lives in is punishment enough for any human being."

The Okens proudly point to their other two children, both of whom are younger than Steven and involved in the medical profession, as "proof in the pudding" of their strong parenting skills. And they insist that Steven was always a good kid who never got into any serious trouble or run-ins. "He had a religious, moral upbringing," Mrs. Oken says, smiling. "He was a wonderful little boy, a happy-go-lucky child, carefree, just perfect, very obedient. He's the sunshine of my life. He was in the Boy Scouts, a Little Leaguer, you know? It was just the luck of the draw. Something went wrong, somewhere."

Mr. Oken, though, tries not to soft-pedal things. "He was always a little more mischievous than most," he says of his son as a youngster. "He always wanted to go a little further than he should. He could push the envelope a little. ... He was more aggressive, more willing ... to walk the thin line between right and wrong, what he should or shouldn't do. He always thought he could do a little more, stay out a little later."

But the Okens say they've still never quite figured out what — besides possibly drugs — really turned their son into a cold-blooded killer. And it's a subject they've never dared broach with Steven himself during their countless visits and talks. In some ways, it seems that it's something they've emotionally compartmentalized, separating Oken and his homicidal spree from the boy they raised and loved, as well as from the young man they've visited in prisons for the past 13 years.

"I've sort of let the 'why' go because ... why isn't important enough for me to hurt. And I don't want to hurt," Mr. Oken says. His wife cuts him off. "There is no 'why,'" she says. "He doesn't know why. He does not know. It's like another person. ... But I think he's a kinder and gentler person today. He's become more serious, more caring. He's matured."

Going down for their weekly visits to Supermax — a parent's nightmare if there ever was one — has become a routine matter, they say, although some things they'll never get used to. "We haven't touched him in five or six years. [Before,] I could hold his hand, I could kiss him," Mrs. Oken says. "But it just becomes a way of life. You do what you have to do. It's better than the alternative. He makes me feel good. I adore him. At least I know he's living."

Says Mr. Oken, partially to himself: "It's a consequence of his actions. These are the consequences he has to live with. I just wish some people could understand that life in prison, particularly the way he is imprisoned, is a terrible punishment. Life in prison can be as severe as the death penalty."

The Okens, who adopted Steven when he was 2 days old and arranged for his conversion to Judaism shortly afterward, suspect that his insecurities about being adopted may have played a role in his descent into substance abuse, particularly during high school. "In his teen years, he often said to me, 'You don't know what it's like not to know where you come from,'" recalls Mrs. Oken. "He was trying to research his birth mother, never successful. And it breaks my heart because I wish I could help him. And when his wife began traveling [prior to the murders], I just think he felt like somebody else abandoned him."

At this point in the conversation, Mr. Oken adds, with his voice breaking, "We're not biological. There's a difference here that I can't understand. I guess you have to be the person who's adopted. I'd think about it and say to myself, 'Who cares? I've got two people here who love me.'" Lost in her thoughts, Mrs. Oken acknowledges that most adopted people are law-abiding citizens. "I just think some people handle it better than others, like other things. If I knew the answer," she says, with her voice trailing off.

Oken himself agrees with his parents that being adopted might've contributed to his penchant for drug experimentation, but he rejects the notion that it might've led to the murders. "Being adopted is hard," he says, "but I don't think it had anything to do with what happened. I think anyone who was adopted has to have that little place in their heart and mind — where did I come from? What's important is I have a family. They've always been there for me. I can't begin to say how much I love them," he says, struggling to keep his composure.

Furthermore, he scoffs at the tendency among some Jews to dismiss his unusual status as a Jewish serial rapist/murderer merely because he wasn't born Jewish. Accept it or not, he says, he is a Jew, regardless of his ethnic or genetic makeup. "I don't think that makes any difference," Oken says during the only slightly testy moment of our 80-minute interview. "I grew up Jewish and lived in a Jewish house. When I was 8 days old, I had a bris. My Hebrew name is Shimon Hirsch. I'm Jewish, period."

Like many inmates, Oken, who became a bar mitzvah at Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, has become progressively more religiously observant since his incarceration. The Jewish Big Brother/Big Sister League has been involved with Oken since his extradition to Maryland in 1990, and the agency's executive director, Louis H. Jacobs, personally meets with him on a monthly basis. In its prison outreach program, the league visits and maintains contact with 177 inmates across Maryland.

"We're not close buddies. I don't think he thinks of me as among his most private confidants," Mr. Jacobs says of Oken. "Our conversations are usually fairly superficial. He's a well-defended guy. He has a cloud hanging over his head, so there's a place that's very sensitive. But I enjoy my time with him, being with him. He's engaging, bright, thoughtful."

Mr. Jacobs finds that most people in the Jewish community are unfamiliar with Oken's case and are "floored" to learn of a local Jew on Death Row. "There's a morbid curiosity," Mr. Jacobs says. "My parents always want to know about it and why the agency reaches out to him, or if it affects my personal feelings about the issue." Moishe Davids, a league volunteer, also meets with Oken once a month. Since 1997, Mr. Davids, who belongs to the Bais Lubavitch Congregation, has provided religious books, commentaries on weekly Torah portions, holiday packages and spiritual instruction to Oken. During one of their meetings a couple of years ago, Mr. Davids, a retired probation officer, brought a pair of tefillin, or phylacteries. "I showed him how to put them on," he says. "Of course, at Supermax you can't have physical contact so I showed him through the window, with a telephone propped on my shoulder, and then I gave the tefillin to a guard to give to Steve on the other side. He got the hang of it."

For Mr. Davids, Oken is a soul to reach, a Jewish heart and mind to win over, languishing in one of the most remote and terrifying places imaginable. And he's had some success. "He's undergone a religious transformation," says Mr. Davids, who lives in Park Heights. "There's definitely been a change in his Jewish outlook and commitment to Judaism and the Jewish people. He now fasts on all of the fast days and observes the major holidays, and he reads articles and books [on Judaism] and asks me to discuss them. He's a smart fellow."

Despite the heinous nature of Oken's crimes, Mr. Davids says he feels no apprehension or moral quandary about visiting with him. Oken, he says, is not a monster or a demon but a lost Jew. And he turns to the Torah and its emphasis on compassion and non-judgmentalism for guidance. "We're taught that a Jew is a Jew even if he sins. That's the Jewish way," Mr. Davids says. "Mitzvahs are not always easy to do. This is a hard mitzvah. I understand it's difficult for some people to separate sins from the sinner. But I can't ignore him because of the crimes he's convicted of."

Oken, who says he now puts on tefillin just about every day, describes Mr. Davids' visits as nothing short of life-changing. The tone of his voice perks up and his eyes glow when discussing his blossoming interest in Judaism. "I'd never heard the word HaShem growing up," he says. "We celebrated the High Holidays, Passover and Purim, but I never knew there was a fast day before Purim, or about the Ninth of Av or the Fast of Gedaliah or the 17th of Tammuz. "I try to do as much as I can," Oken says. "I consider myself now a spiritual person. It calms me and brings peace to me. It makes me feel like there's a purpose."

And becoming a more observant Jew, he says, has helped him deal better with the actions of his past. "I hurt a lot of people," he says, staring at the floor, "and I pray they forgive me — for themselves, to get some peace. I've done teshuva [repentance]. I've admitted I did it, recognizing this is a horrible act and I'm responsible for it. I have this awful feeling about what I did. "But it's not just what I did against people," Oken says, barely audibly, "but what I did against God."

A soft evening rain falls on the roof as Davida Oken glances at a table full of framed family photographs, including one of Steven standing on a balcony with the ocean in the background. She thinks it was at Bethany Beach, a few months before the murders. He's grinning, holding a rolled-up newspaper, looking like he doesn't have a worry in the world, wearing a navy blue sweatshirt and jeans.

It's a nice memory, she says, the kind that keeps her going. But other memories make her seethe. "Almost the first day [after Oken was arrested], I was in Pikesville and someone I've known since high school came up to me and said, 'Didn't you ever teach your son that you don't do things like that?'" she recalls. "What do you say to a stupid, ignorant person like that? For someone to say something that stupid is unbelievable."

The Okens, who are former longtime congregants of Baltimore Hebrew, say that type of disregard for them has been a hallmark of the Jewish community's behavior toward their family since the slayings. In conversation, they can barely contain their bitterness toward the community — individuals and as a whole — for failing to provide virtually any emotional, spiritual or political support to them or their son.

Over the years, they've called and sent scores of letters to rabbis and other Jewish communal leaders, particularly those who've publicly stated their opposition to capital punishment. They say few have responded. Interestingly, the Catholic church, particularly Archbishop William H. Keeler, has been in touch frequently to offer encouragement. "I thought the Jewish people were a brotherhood. I don't feel that way now," says Ms. Oken. "I needed someone to help us handle this. When you reach out to your leaders and they turn a cold shoulder, you have to wonder what it's all about."

Oken himself is more disappointed in his old friends' unwillingness to visit or keep in touch. "I don't think people want to be bothered. Maybe they can't deal with it," he says. "But I think if the shoe was on the other foot, I would've kept in touch. I feel let down." As far as the organized community is concerned, "I don't care for myself but for my family. They were members of Baltimore Hebrew for many years," he says. "I don't know if it's politics or what."

Lou Jacobs, of Jewish Big Brother /Big Sister, agrees with the Okens' assessment of the community, even though he acknowledges that Jews are as divided about the death penalty as the rest of America. Last fall, he sent a form letter to more than 40 area rabbis to inform them about Oken's situation, and to suggest using the case as a means of creating dialogue about capital punishment in their congregations.

He was shocked when he received only a few responses, including one from a rabbi who was "indignant" that Mr. Jacobs advocated discussions about the death penalty merely because a Jew was on Death Row. "Shouldn't the Okens feel they're getting support from somewhere, or do they have to live with this black mark forever? The community institutions and leaders haven't been there for them," Mr. Jacobs says. He attributes it to a tendency among Jews to avoid viewing themselves in an unflattering light.

"We don't think the Jewish community has a substance abuse problem or domestic violence. We think we're immune to those problems, whether because of genes or conditioning," he says. "But a Jew could be executed in Maryland, and one way or another our community will have to make a decision about this."

However, the Oken matter is simply not a Jewish issue and that's why the case has received scant attention from the community, counters Arthur C. Abramson, executive director of the Baltimore Jewish Council. "He's an individual who committed atrocious crimes, was found guilty and happens to be Jewish, but it had nothing to do with his ethnic or religious beliefs," says Mr. Abramson, whose agency supported the moratorium bill.

Rabbi Donald R. Berlin is one of the community leaders to whom the Okens wrote a letter requesting assistance. The former spiritual leader of Temple Oheb Shalom, who has publicly criticized the death penalty, admits that he never responded, largely because he wasn't really sure what to do with this matter.

But he says he also felt the Okens were specifically seeking his involvement in the campaign for their son's clemency, something he didn't feel comfortable doing since "the crime was so horrific." "I understand why they feel abandoned. This must be excruciatingly painful for them. Their child is in trouble," he says. "But they seemed only to want a rabbi who'd intervene for their cause. I had no major reason to get involved. ... The death penalty is wrong. But I wouldn't want to come to his defense. Because he's Jewish?"

When he was contacted by the Okens, Baltimore Hebrew's Rabbi Rex D. Perlmeter delegated the matter to an associate rabbi who met with them about a month ago. "I don't have a personal history with them," he says, noting that he sent a "letter of concern" about the case to the governor's office.

But in retrospect, Rabbi Perlmeter says he could've handled the situation better, and that embarrassment played a role. "When I see someone in these circumstances, I feel a sense of shame and sorrow that this has happened to a member of the Jewish community," he says. "If I had to do it again, I think I would've read between the lines and provided comfort for them." That's exactly what Rabbi Jacob A. Max, of Moses Montefiore-Anshe Emunah Hebrew Congregation, has tried to do. After being contacted by a mutual friend, Rabbi Max visited recently with the Okens and Steven. He has also written a letter to the governor requesting that Oken be returned to Maine to complete his life sentence.

Rabbi Max says he can understand why many of his colleagues and others in the Jewish community don't want to deal with the Oken case. "Our people used to be convicted for white-collar crimes, not violent crimes. But a Jewish guy on Death Row? It's a new creature of its type. The community doesn't know how to handle it," he says.

But the rabbi feels people must rise above it, especially for a fellow Jew. "He's still a person, created in the image of God until the very end," he says. "The act he did was monstrous, but he's not a monster. He still has a neshamah, a soul."

Unlike most of us, Steven Oken doesn't look at capital punishment from a theoretical point of view. It's something real, vibrant, immediate, an organism that shares his cell with him, along with his sink, toilet, shelves, TV, stacks of books and magazines, and concrete slab with a mattress. "Look at the company this country is in — China, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan," he says. "This is a country that executes children and the mentally retarded. And it's not fairly applied. Nobody on Death Row in Maryland is here because they killed a black person, and the vast majority of homicides in this state are black-on-black. It just doesn't address the situation, and it's unfair."

Unfair like the fate of his three victims, their families, and that of his own parents and siblings. Oken says he thinks about his victims every day of his life. It's a pain that's beyond words, he says, knowing how hypocritical and insensitive that might sound. But he appears to really mean it — at least from this side of the window. "It's something you can never block out of your mind," Oken says. "You wake up every morning and you're here, and you know why you're here — you took lives, the pain you gave their families, all the happiness you took from them."

At this point in the interview, he studies his large folded hands. He pauses and begins to mumble. It's apparent he's no longer talking to me but to a few unseen forces that seem to be crowding the tiny visitation room. "I just want to be clear that I did this. Not the drugs, it was me. I can't express how sorry I am. There are no words."

Maybe Steven Oken is someone who learned too late during his time on earth about the preciousness of life — that of his own and others. While his victims lost their lives, so did he, to a certain extent. His is now an existence, spent from moment to moment trying to maintain his sanity by reading books and working on appeals. For all intents and purposes, he ceased being alive, stopped being a functioning human being, the moment he lured Dawn Garvin into her apartment that chilly November night and proceeded to torture and kill her.

He knows there are those who would like to do the same to him, who feel that death by lethal injection is simply not good enough. But that, he points out, will still not rectify the actions that forever concluded his life as a member of society, at the age of 25.

And so he presses on, to stay alive, to keep moving. As an armed guard wearing a bulletproof vest arrives to inform us that our time is almost up, Oken and I stare at each other for what seems a long time. Without saying a word, he reminds me that he comes from the same place I do, with the same values and ethics and belief system and culture that permeated the lives and times we once shared. And it makes me shudder when I look at my reflection in the window and beyond, at Oken. "I was brought up to care about people and respect them," he insists, still sounding like a nice Jewish boy from the old neighborhood. "I just think I'm basically a good person who's done terrible, terrible things."

And when the guard returns and begins to place handcuffs on Oken and usher him away, he waves and again wishes me a happy Passover.

Oken v. State, 612 A.2d 258 (Md.,1992) (Direct Appeal).

Jury convicted defendant of first-degree murder as well as other offenses and sentenced defendant to death following trial in the Circuit Court, Baltimore County, James T. Smith, Jr., J. Defendant appealed. The Court of Appeals, Karwacki, J., held that: (1) defendant waived right to testify at criminal responsibility hearing; (2) emergency justifying warrantless search of defendant's home; (3) defendant lacked standing to challenge warrantless search of motel room; (4) FBI agent could testify as expert; (5) evidence was insufficient to support burglary conviction; (6) evidence supported first- degree sexual offense conviction; (7) closing arguments concerning defendant's demeanor at trial did not require reversal; and (8) death sentence was neither excessive nor disproportionate. Burglary conviction reversed and all other judgments affirmed. McAuliffe, J., concurred in part, dissented in part, and filed opinion in which Murphy, C.J., and Rodowsky, J., joined. Robert M. Bell, J., concurred in part, dissented in part, and filed opinion.

KARWACKI, Judge.
On January 18, 1991, a jury in the Circuit Court for Baltimore County convicted the appellant, Stephen Howard Oken, of the first degree murder of Dawn Garvin, of a first degree sexual offense upon Ms. Garvin, of burglary, and of the use of a handgun in the commission of a crime of violence. Having previously entered a plea of not criminally responsible and having been granted a bifurcated hearing on the issues of guilt or innocence and criminal responsibility, Oken elected to have the court decide whether or not he was criminally responsible. On January 22, 1991, the court found Oken to be criminally responsible. The sentencing for Oken's guilt of first degree murder was held before the same jury on January 24 and 25, 1991. The jury sentenced Oken to death. The trial judge subsequently imposed sentences of life imprisonment for the first degree sexual offense, a consecutive term of twenty years for the burglary, and a consecutive term of twenty years for the use of a handgun in the commission of a crime of violence. Oken has appealed those judgments. We begin by reciting the facts surrounding Dawn Garvin's murder.

At midnight on Sunday, November 1, 1987, Keith Douglas Garvin arrived at the United States Navy base in Oceana, Virginia. Mr. Garvin, who had a pass from his naval superiors, had just spent the weekend with his wife, Dawn Garvin, at their apartment in the Baltimore County community of White Marsh and was returning to his station in Oceana. Upon his arrival at the base, Mr. Garvin attempted to call his wife to notify her that he had arrived safely. Although the telephone rang at their White Marsh apartment, there was no answer. After making several additional unsuccessful attempts to call his wife, Mr. Garvin became worried and telephoned his father-in-law, Frederick Joseph Romano. Because Mr. Romano lived in close proximity to the Garvins' apartment, Mr. Garvin asked Mr. Romano to check on his wife. Mr. Romano agreed, and attempted to telephone his daughter twice. Both times there was no answer. Concerned about the fact that numerous calls to his daughter had gone unanswered, Mr. Romano decided to drive to his daughter's apartment.

When Mr. Romano arrived at his daughter's apartment, he found the front door to the apartment ajar, all the lights in the apartment turned on, and the television blaring. Sensing that something was wrong, Mr. Romano rushed into the apartment and found his daughter, Dawn, in the bedroom lying on the bed nude with a bottle protruding from her vagina. While attempting to give her cardiopulmonary resuscitation ("CPR"), Mr. Romano observed that there was blood streaming from her forehead. He immediately called for assistance, and paramedics arrived shortly thereafter. A paramedic then began to administer CPR, but his efforts were in vain. Dawn Marie Garvin was dead.

At 2:30 a.m., on November 2, Detective James Roeder of the Baltimore County Police Department arrived at the Garvins' apartment to inspect the scene of the murder. Detective Roeder testified that when he entered the Garvins' apartment he saw no signs of forced entry. Once inside, he observed a brassiere, a pair of pants, tennis shoes, a shirt, and a sweater on the floor near the sofa in the living room. The brassiere was not unhooked, but instead, was ripped on the side. The pants were turned inside out. Roeder also noticed a small piece of rubber on the floor near the television set. In the bedroom, Roeder found two spent .25 caliber shell casings on the bed, one of which was lying on top of a shirt. The shirt was blood stained and had what Roeder believed to be a bullet hole in it.

An autopsy of Ms. Garvin's body revealed that she had died as the result of two contact gunshot wounds; one of the bullets entered at her left eyebrow and the other at her right ear. The last person to see Dawn Garvin before she was fatally attacked was her brother, Frederick Anthony Romano. At 8:30 p.m. on November 1, Mr. Romano stopped by his sister's apartment to pick up a set of keys to Keith Garvin's car. Mr. Garvin had left the car at the White Marsh apartment so that it could be repaired during the week. Mr. Romano only stayed at his sister's apartment for about five minutes. When he left the apartment, Ms. Garvin was preparing to walk her dog. We will state additional facts as necessary in addressing the several contentions of the appellant.

* * * *

The victim died as a result of two gunshot wounds to the head. The jury found as an aggravating factor that Oken committed the murder while committing or attempting to commit a first degree sexual offense. With respect to the statutory mitigating circumstances, the jury was not able to unanimously agree that any existed. Nevertheless, one or more of the jurors, but fewer than all 12, did find the following mitigating circumstances to exist: "1) Fact of an existing life sentence 2) sexual sadism 3) substance abuse"

Our review of similar cases reveals that death sentences have been imposed in a number of cases where the aggravating circumstance of the murder was that the defendant committed it while committing or attempting to commit a sexual offense in the first degree upon the victim. Considering Oken and the heinous nature of his crime, we conclude that the death sentence was neither excessive nor disproportionate. We are also satisfied that his death sentence was not imposed under the influence of passion, prejudice or any arbitrary factors. Md.Code, (1957, 1992 Repl.Vol.), Art. 27, § 414(e)(1) CONVICTION AND SENTENCE FOR BURGLARY REVERSED; ALL OTHER JUDGMENTS AFFIRMED.

Oken v. State, 681 A.2d 30 (Md.,1996) (PCR).

Defendant was convicted in the Circuit Court, Baltimore County, James T. Smith, J., of first-degree murder, first-degree sexual offense, burglary and using handgun in crime of violence, and sentenced to death. Following affirmance of first-degree murder, sexual offense, and handgun violation convictions and sentences, and reversal of burglary conviction by the Court of Appeals, 327 Md. 628, 612 A.2d 258, the Circuit Court, Dana M. Levitz, J., denied defendant's petition for postconviction relief. Defendant appealed. The Court of Appeals, Raker, J., held that: (1) defendant waived various issues by not raising them on direct appeal, and (2) counsel was not ineffective. Affirmed. Robert M. Bell, J., filed dissenting opinion.

RAKER, Judge.
Steven Howard Oken was found guilty by a Baltimore County jury of first degree murder, first degree sexual offense, burglary and the use of a handgun in a crime of violence. The same jury sentenced him to death. On direct appeal, this Court affirmed the convictions and the sentences for the first degree murder, the sexual offenses and the handgun violation. Oken v. State, 327 Md. 628, 612 A.2d 258 (1992), cert. denied, 507 U.S. 931, 113 S.Ct. 1312, 122 L.Ed.2d 700 (1993). We reversed the burglary conviction on the grounds of insufficiency of evidence. Id.

Oken filed a petition for post-conviction relief pursuant to Maryland Code (1957, 1992 Repl. Vol., 1995 Supp.) Art. 27, § 645A-J, the Uniform Post- Conviction Procedure Act. [FN1] After an evidentiary hearing, Judge Dana Levitz of the Circuit Court for Baltimore County filed a well-reasoned opinion and order denying post-conviction relief. We granted Oken's application for leave to appeal. We shall affirm.

On November 1, 1987, Oken sexually assaulted and murdered Dawn Garvin at her home in Baltimore County. The facts that led to Oken's conviction and sentence were set out in Oken I:

At midnight on Sunday, November 1, 1987, Keith Douglas Garvin arrived at the United States Navy base in Oceana, Virginia. Mr. Garvin, who had a pass from his naval superiors, had just spent the weekend with his wife, Dawn Garvin, at their apartment in the Baltimore County community of White Marsh and was returning to his station in Oceana. Upon his arrival at the base, Mr. Garvin attempted to call his wife to notify her that he had arrived safely. Although the telephone rang at their White Marsh apartment, there was no answer. After making several additional unsuccessful attempts to call his wife, Mr. Garvin became worried and telephoned his father-in-law, Frederick Joseph Romano. Because Mr. Romano lived in close proximity to the Garvins' apartment, Mr. Garvin asked Mr. Romano to check on his wife. Mr. Romano agreed, and attempted to telephone his daughter twice. Both times there was no answer. Concerned about the fact that numerous calls to his daughter had gone unanswered, Mr. Romano decided to drive to his daughter's apartment.

When Mr. Romano arrived at his daughter's apartment, he found the front door to the apartment ajar, all the lights in the apartment turned on, and the television blaring. Sensing that something was wrong, Mr. Romano rushed into the apartment and found his daughter, Dawn, in the bedroom lying on the bed nude with a bottle protruding from her vagina. While attempting to give her cardiopulmonary resuscitation ("CPR"), Mr. Romano observed that there was blood streaming from her forehead. He immediately called for assistance, and paramedics arrived shortly thereafter. A paramedic then began to administer CPR, but his efforts were in vain. Dawn Marie Garvin was dead.

At 2:30 a.m., on November 2, Detective James Roeder of the Baltimore County Police Department arrived at the Garvins' apartment to inspect the scene of the murder. Detective Roeder testified that when he entered the Garvins' apartment he saw no signs of forced entry. Once inside, he observed a brassiere, a pair of pants, tennis shoes, a shirt, and a sweater on the floor near the sofa in the living room. The brassiere was not unhooked, but instead, was ripped on the side. The pants were turned inside out. Roeder also noticed a small piece of rubber on the floor near the television set. In the bedroom, Roeder found two spent .25 caliber shell casings on the bed, one of which was lying on top of a shirt. The shirt was blood stained and had what Roeder believed to be a bullet hole in it.

An autopsy of Ms. Garvin's body revealed that she had died as the result of two contact gunshot wounds; one of the bullets entered at her left eyebrow and the other at her right ear. 327 Md. at 634-35, 612 A.2d at 261.

Less than two weeks after Oken murdered Dawn Garvin, he sexually assaulted and murdered his sister-in-law, Patricia Hirt, at his Maryland home. He then fled Maryland for Maine, where he murdered Lori Ward, the desk clerk at his Maine hotel. He was arrested in Maine on November 17, 1987, and was ultimately convicted in Maine for first degree murder, robbery with a firearm, and theft arising out of the Ward homicide. [FN2] See State v. Oken, 569 A.2d 1218 (Me.), cert. denied, 498 U.S. 818, 111 S.Ct. 62, 112 L.Ed.2d 36 (1990).

FN2. The Maryland presentence investigation report indicated that in Maine, Oken was sentenced to life without parole on the murder charge, twenty years on the robbery charge, and five years on the theft charge, all sentences to run concurrently.

Oken was returned to Maryland where he faced separate prosecutions for charges arising out of the Garvin and Hirt homicides. He was indicted in the Circuit Court for Baltimore County in the Garvin case for first degree murder, sexual offenses, burglary, daytime housebreaking, robbery with a dangerous or deadly weapon, theft, and a handgun violation. The State notified Oken of its intent to seek the death penalty and advised him that as aggravating circumstances, it intended to establish that (1) the defendant committed the murder in the first degree of Dawn Garvin while committing or attempting to commit a first degree sex offense upon Dawn Garvin, and (2) the defendant committed the murder of Dawn Garvin in the first degree while committing or attempting to commit robbery of Dawn Garvin. See Art. 27, § 412(b). Oken entered pleas of not guilty and not criminally responsible. See Maryland Code (1982, 1994 Repl. Vol., 1995 Supp.) § 12-109 of the Health-General Article; Maryland Rule 4-242 . At the trial, Oken was represented by defense counsel, Benjamin Lipsitz.

The State's evidence as to criminal agency was very strong. The murder weapon, a handgun, was found in Oken's home shortly after the murder and a rubber portion of Oken's tennis shoe was found in Dawn Garvin's living room on the night of the murder. In addition, several witnesses at trial identified Oken as the person in the neighborhood who had attempted to gain entry to residences in the vicinity of the Garvin home a few days prior to the murder.

On January 18, 1991, a jury in the Circuit Court for Baltimore County found Oken guilty of murder in the first degree (on theories of felony murder and premeditated murder), first degree sexual offense, burglary, and use of a handgun in a crime of violence. The jury acquitted Oken of the robbery charge. Pursuant to Maryland Rule 4-314, Oken elected a court trial on the issue of criminal responsibility. Judge James Smith concluded that Oken was criminally responsible.

A capital sentencing proceeding commenced on January 24, 1991 before the same jury that determined Petitioner's guilt. The State incorporated all the testimony and evidence from the guilt/innocence phase. The verdict sheet indicated that one or more of the jurors, but fewer than all twelve, found as mitigating circumstances "(1) fact of life sentence, (2) sexual sadism, and (3) substance abuse." On January 25, the jury unanimously determined the sentence to be death. On the remaining counts, Judge Smith imposed a sentence of life imprisonment for the first degree sexual offense, and consecutive terms of twenty years each for the burglary and the handgun violation. [FN3] This post-conviction proceeding reviews only the Baltimore County proceedings relating to the murder of Dawn Garvin. Additional facts will be recounted as necessary in our discussion of the issues raised by Oken in this appeal.

FN3. Following Oken's conviction in this case, he pled guilty to the murder of Patricia Hirt. See Oken v. State, 327 Md. 628, 644 n. 4, 612 A.2d 258, 266 n. 4 (1992), cert. denied, 507 U.S. 931, 113 S.Ct. 1312, 122 L.Ed.2d 700 (1993) .

For the reasons given above, the petition for post-conviction relief was properly denied. JUDGMENT OF THE CIRCUIT COURT FOR BALTIMORE COUNTY AFFIRMED.

Oken v. State, 835 A.2d 1105 (Md.,2003) (Motion to Correct erroneaous Sentence).

Defendant was convicted in the Circuit Court, Baltimore County, James T. Smith, Jr., J., of first-degree murder and burglary and was sentenced to death. Defendant appealed. The Court of Appeals, Karwacki, J., 327 Md. 628, 612 A.2d 258, affirmed murder conviction and reversed burglary conviction. Defendant filed motion to correct illegal sentence or motion for resentencing. The Circuit Court, Baltimore County, John Grason Turnbull, II, J., denied the motion. Defendant appealed and filed motion for stay of execution. The Court of Appeals granted the stay. The Court of Appeals, Harrell, J., held that: (1) the death penalty statute permitting court or jury to determine whether aggravating circumstances outweigh mitigating circumstances does not violate Sixth Amendment right to jury trial since the United States Supreme Court's decision in Ring v. Arizona is inapplicable; (2) it complies with due process; and (3) the weighing of aggravating and mitigating circumstances before imposing the death penalty does not involve fact finding and, therefore, is not subject to requirement of jury determination beyond a reasonable doubt if the finding increases the maximum penalty. Affirmed. Raker, J., dissented and filed opinion joined by Bell, C.J., and Eldridge, J.

Oken v. Corcoran, 220 F.3d 259 (4th Cir. 2000)

After his convictions for murder and first degree sexual offense and his death sentence were affirmed on direct appeal, 327 Md. 628, 612 A.2d 258, petitioner sought federal habeas corpus relief. The United States District Court for the District of Maryland, Peter J. Messitte, J., 64 F.Supp.2d 488, denied petition. Petitioner appealed. The Court of Appeals, Luttig, Circuit Judge, held that: (1) petitioner procedurally defaulted challenge to trial court's voir dire of prospective jurors; (2) voir dire questions propounded to prospective jurors were sufficient to identify any jurors who had predetermined whether to impose death penalty; (3) petitioner was not entitled to testify during criminal responsibility phase of trial without have his testimony used against him during sentencing phase; (4) evidence supported conviction for first-degree sexual offense, and (5) trial counsel did not render constitutionally deficient assistance. Affirmed. Michael, Circuit Judge, concurred in part and concurred in the judgment and filed a separate opinion.

LUTTIG, Circuit Judge:
Petitioner-appellant Steven Howard Oken, a Maryland inmate under sentence of death, appeals from the district court's denial of his application under 28 U.S.C. § 2254 for a writ of habeas corpus. Oken claims, inter alia, that the state trial court's voir dire questions were constitutionally inadequate under Morgan v. Illinois, 504 U.S. 719, 112 S.Ct. 2222, 119 L.Ed.2d 492 (1992), and that he surrendered his right to testify at the criminal responsibility phase of his trial in reliance on advice from the trial court that was erroneous under Simmons v. United States, 390 U.S. 377, 88 S.Ct. 967, 19 L.Ed.2d 1247 (1968). Because we conclude that the district court correctly upheld the Maryland Court of Appeals' rejection of these and other claims advanced by Oken, we affirm the district court's judgment denying Oken's petition for a writ of habeas corpus.

Oken was sentenced to death in 1991 by a Baltimore County jury for the murder of Dawn Garvin. [FN1] Four years earlier, Garvin's naked corpse had been found by her father in the bedroom of her apartment, with two contact gunshot wounds to her head and a bottle protruding from her vagina. A .25 caliber handgun seized from Oken's bedroom was later determined to be the murder weapon, and a piece of rubber recovered from the crime scene was traced to Oken's tennis shoes. Moreover, several of Garvin's neighbors identified Oken as the person who had attempted to gain entry to their residences under various false pretenses a few days prior to Garvin's murder. On direct review, the Maryland Court of Appeals affirmed Oken's convictions for first degree murder and first degree sexual offense, as well as his sentence of death, but reversed his conviction and sentence for burglary. [FN2] See Oken v. State, 327 Md. 628, 612 A.2d 258, 283 (1992), cert. denied, 507 U.S. 931, 113 S.Ct. 1312, 122 L.Ed.2d 700 (1993). On state collateral review, the Maryland Court of Appeals again rejected Oken's challenges to his conviction and sentence, affirming the lower court's denial of Oken's petition for post-conviction relief. See Oken v. State, 343 Md. 256, 681 A.2d 30, 53 (1996), cert. denied, 519 U.S. 1079, 117 S.Ct. 742, 136 L.Ed.2d 681 (1997). Oken then filed an application for a writ of habeas corpus in federal district court, pursuant to 28 U.S.C. § 2254. The district court denied Oken's application for a writ of habeas corpus and subsequently denied his motion for reconsideration.

FN1. Oken was separately convicted of murdering his sister-in-law, Patricia Hirt, as well as a motel clerk in Maine, Lori Ward.

FN2. Oken's former conviction and sentence for burglary, set aside on direct appeal, are not at issue in this case.

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Even Oken's own expert testified on cross-examination during the sentencing phase: I was told by Mr. Oken that he approached the victim outside the apartment, asked if he could use the phone, made his way into her apartment, looked about, shut the door, took out a gun and asked that she get undressed. He asked her to begin masturbating. He masturbated. At the same time he then asked her to get up and perform oral sex on him. He then pushed her back. He got on top of her, he tried to have intercourse, he did this in different positions, including anal sex. He got up at some point, went into the kitchen, brought back a bottle, Durkee's hot sauce bottle, which he said he inserted into her vagina. He made her take the bottle in and out. He was masturbating at the same time. He became angry because he couldn't reach climax and then he killed her. Oken I, 612 A.2d at 279; see also J.A. 772-73. Thus, the jury had before it an overwhelming amount of evidence of the aggravating circumstance of the first degree sexual offense to outweigh both the mitigating evidence which was introduced at trial and that which Oken now contends should have been introduced.

CONCLUSION: The judgment of the district court denying Steven Howard Oken's petition for a writ of habeas corpus is hereby affirmed. AFFIRMED