So what happens when we make a mistake?

Texas executed its fifth teenage offender at 22 minutes after midnight on Aug. 24, 1993, after his last request for bubble gum had been refused and his final claim of innocence had been forever silenced.

Ruben Cantu, 17 at the time of his crime, had no previous convictions, but a San Antonio prosecutor had branded him a violent thief, gang member and murderer who ruthlessly shot one victim nine times with a rifle before emptying at least nine more rounds into the only eyewitness — a man who barely survived to testify.

Four days after a Bexar County jury delivered its verdict, Cantu wrote this letter to the residents of San Antonio: “My name is Ruben M. Cantu and I am only 18 years old. I got to the 9th grade and I have been framed in a capital murder case.”

A dozen years after his execution, a Houston Chronicle investigation suggests that Cantu, a former special-ed student who grew up in a tough neighborhood on the south side of San Antonio, was likely telling the truth.

Twelve years later, and it becomes apparent that prosecutors and police, in their zeal to appear that they were doing the jobs they’re paid to do, were more concerned with scoring a conviction than in GETTING IT RIGHT. And their concern with scoring a conviction may well have cost an innocent man his life.

Cantu’s long-silent co-defendant, David Garza, just 15 when the two boys allegedly committed a murder-robbery together, has signed a sworn affidavit saying he allowed his friend to be falsely accused, though Cantu wasn’t with him the night of the killing.

And the lone eyewitness, the man who survived the shooting, has recanted. He told the Chronicle he’s sure that the person who shot him was not Cantu, but he felt pressured by police to identify the boy as the killer. Juan Moreno, an illegal immigrant at the time of the shooting, said his damning in-court identification was based on his fear of authorities and police interest in Cantu.

Cantu “was innocent. It was a case of an innocent person being killed,” Moreno said.

These men, whose lives are united by nothing more than a single act of violence on Nov. 8, 1984, both claim that Texas executed the wrong man. Both believe they could have saved Cantu if they had had the courage to tell the truth before he died at 26.

Of course, neither of them did have the courage when it was needed. Now that they do seem to possess it, it hardly matters, because regardless of anything else, Ruben Cantu is still dead- executed legally by the state of Texas in the name of justice. Ultimately, there will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth- and absolutely nothing will change. Why? Because Ruben Cantu was a poor Hispanic male with no money, few friends, and no one to stand up for him. If you don’t think things would have been different if Cantu had been a rich White male from River Oaks, you’re living in a dream world.

In a case such as this one, where does the Cantu family go for justice? Who will be held accountable? In the end, of course, it is quite likely that no one will ever be held accountable, and Ruben Cantu’s family will be left with little more than a collective “Oops…our bad….” After all, justice isn’t pretty, eh?

Presented with these statements, as well as information from hundreds of pages of court and police documents gathered by the Chronicle that cast doubt on the case, key players in Cantu’s death ‚Äö√Ñ√Æincluding the judge, prosecutor, head juror and defense attorney ‚Äö√Ñ√Æ now acknowledge that his conviction seems to have been built on omissions and lies.

“We did the best we could with the information we had, but with a little extra work, a little extra effort, maybe we’d have gotten the right information,” said Miriam Ward, forewoman of the jury that convicted Cantu. “The bottom line is, an innocent person was put to death for it. We all have our finger in that.”

Sam D. Millsap Jr., the former Bexar County district attorney who made the decision to charge Cantu with capital murder, says he never should have sought the death penalty in a case based on the testimony of an eyewitness who identified Cantu only after police officers showed him Cantu’s photo three separate times.

“It’s so questionable. There are so many places where it could break down,” said Millsap, now in private practice. “We have a system that permits people to be convicted based on evidence that could be wrong because it’s mistaken or because it’s corrupt.”

BINGO!!! And therein lies the problem with capital punishment in Texas. Is the pursuit of justice worth the occasional execution of an innocent person? Is the forteiture of an innocent life for the Greater Good justifiable? No reasonable person would argue that Ruben Cantu is the only innocent person ever to be executed by the state of Texas. So is the life of a poor, uneducated Hispanic male worth sacrificing so that good, God-fearing Texans can feel safe and secure?

That Texans and their elected representative seem to have no real problem with the manner in which capital punishment is applied is something reasonable people should find greatly disturbing. One really has to wonder about the collective willingness to sacrifice a poor minority male every now and then for the Greater Good. What does it say about us when it becomes clear that we collectively have little problem with how capital punishment is applied and (no pun intended) executed?

So Ruben Cantu was (oops…) murdered executed by mistake? Who’s going to give Aurelia Cantu her son back? And who will be held accountable for this miscarriage of justice? I’d suggest that you not hold your breath waiting for the answers to those questions….