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Mercy, redemption and transformation
Lent calls us to reflection, where we are invited to examine God’s mercy in our lives and in the lives of others in this season. This time of reflection allows us to confront difficult topics, including one that often divides people — capital punishment.
Lent calls us to reflection, where we are invited to examine God’s mercy in our lives and in the lives of others in this season. This time of reflection allows us to confront difficult topics, including one that often divides people — capital punishment.
I’ll admit, I once supported the death penalty without much thought. It wasn’t until I delved deeper into the Church’s teaching on the sanctity of life that my views began to change. Who was I to challenge the wisdom of the Magisterium?
The Catholic Church teaches that every person’s dignity is rooted in our creation — we are made in the image of God. Because of this inherent dignity, St. John Paul II emphasized in Evangelium Vitae that the death penalty should only be used in the rarest cases to protect society, a situation he believed is virtually nonexistent in modern times.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church goes further, declaring the death penalty inadmissible and advocating for its abolition. For some, this teaching is hard to accept. For me, it took meeting someone whose life embodied the Church’s teaching to solidify my understanding. That man’s name is Jimmy MacPhee, and his story has forever changed how I see capital punishment.
Prison ministry
I serve in our diocesan prison ministry, and I absolutely love it. Every Friday, I meet with a group of men at the chapel in Perry State Correctional Institution in the upstate. These gatherings are raw, real and full of God’s presence. I see what it truly means to die to the world and live for Christ within these men. One Friday, during a discussion about conversion, someone mentioned Jimmy MacPhee. He’d known Jimmy personally and shared how Jimmy had inspired his faith journey.
Soon, others chimed in, describing how Jimmy’s transformation had impacted them as well. They spoke of a man who’d once been angry and violent but had become a loving disciple of Christ within the South Carolina Department of Corrections.
I was intrigued and wanted to meet this man of whom they spoke so highly.
I learned that Jimmy had been released from custody only a few months earlier. Tracking him down in Spartanburg County, I introduced myself, and we began to talk. I’m proud to say I now call him my friend. His story changed how I understand mercy, justice and redemption.
First chaos
Like many who find themselves on the wrong side of the justice system, Jimmy grew up in chaos. His childhood was marked by angry voices, slammed doors and people who disappeared as quickly as they came. This instability left him feeling insignificant and angry. By his teens, he’d turned to drugs and crime. At 19, he was arrested for heroin possession and served a year in prison. Instead of reforming him, prison hardened Jimmy, leaving him more bitter and dangerous.
At 20, just months after his release, Jimmy committed a violent armed robbery, killing one man and injuring another in the process. Convicted and sentenced to death, he entered death row consumed by rage. The judge’s parting words haunted him: “May God have mercy on your soul.”
On death row, Jimmy met an unexpected regular visitor, Kyuzo Miyaishi, a.k.a. Frankie San — who served in South Carolina prisons, especially ministering to death row inmates, for 58 years. Frankie San, something of a legend throughout the prison system, delivered books but also offered Jimmy something far more meaningful: a message of love and forgiveness.
“Jesus loves you and will forgive you,” Frankie told Jimmy, but blinded by anger at that time, Jimmy dismissed him.
Three years later, Jimmy’s death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment with the possibility of parole. Instead of gratitude, he sank deeper into violence and addiction, fully embracing prison culture. By 40, his behavior landed him in solitary confinement, where he spent 16 long years. Alone with his thoughts, Jimmy began to confront the brokenness of his life.
Desperate for change, Jimmy reached out by mail to Frankie, who replied with the same words he had spoken years before: Jesus loves you and will forgive you.” This time, Jimmy paid attention. He prayed, confessed his sins and asked for forgiveness. Peace, for the first time in decades, settled over him. He began reading the Bible, reflecting on its truths and slowly his anger gave way to hope.
Over the years, Jimmy transformed. He became a mentor to other inmates, helping them break free from cycles of violence. He pursued a theology education and trained to be a peacemaker in South Carolina’s toughest prisons. His story is a testament to the power of grace: a man once consumed by violence became a source of healing and hope.
In March 2020, after 45 years in prison, Jimmy was granted parole. Today, he’s married and runs a ministry called On the Rock, working to transform prison culture through Gospel-centered education and discipleship. His mission is to break cycles of addiction and recidivism, heal families and create safer communities. He also continues to mentor and minister to those searching for redemption.
Jimmy’s life challenges us to reconsider capital punishment, not as a question of justice, but as a question of mercy. His life shows that no one is beyond redemption. Perhaps the judge’s words, “May God have mercy on your soul,” weren’t a curse — as Jimmy once believed — but a prayer.
Perhaps, in Jimmy’s transformation, we see the fruits of that prayer.
For those who struggle with the Church’s stance on the death penalty, Jimmy’s life offers a powerful witness to why every human life, no matter how broken, holds the potential for transformation. We could have lost Jimmy years ago to unnecessary death in the name of “justice.” But God, in his infinite mercy, has used Jimmy to spread love where it is arguably most needed.
As you ponder Jimmy’s story, remember these words from Psalm 25: “Remember your compassion and your mercy, O LORD, for they are ages old. Remember no more the sins of my youth; remember me according to your mercy, because of your goodness, LORD” (6-7).
Brian Hansen is a parishioner of Our Lady of the Rosary Church in Greenville, where he is an acolyte. He serves in prison ministry and is in formation for the permanent diaconate. Email him at bphansen65@gmail.com.