On Veterans Day, the Death Penalty Information Center will release a new report about veterans and the death penalty, exploring the lasting effects of military service and explaining why military experiences matter when veterans interact with the legal system. This article takes a moment to reflect on Battle Scars — DPI’s first pathbreaking report about veterans and the death penalty released a decade ago — and two of the powerful individual stories of Vietnam veterans documented in that report.
Manuel (Manny) Babbitt
Manuel “Manny” Babbitt was born into a family of poor Black immigrants from Cape Verde. At age 12, he suffered a traumatic brain injury in a bicycle accident. Partially as a result of this brain injury, he only completed seventh grade in school, and he struggled to read and write. At age 18, a Marine Corps recruiter helped him pass the military entrance test, and Mr. Babbitt enlisted, eager to serve his country.
Mr. Babbitt was quickly dispatched to Vietnam, where he served two tours, including fighting in the 1968 Battle of Khe Sanh. According to United States Marine Corps records, the battle of Khe Sanh was one of the bloodiest of the Vietnam conflict. Mr. Babbit endured horrific experiences that left him with lasting scars. He was struck in the head by shrapnel and evacuated by helicopter, after being found lying on a pile of dead bodies. Prior to his evacuation, Mr. Babbitt recalled gathering the remains of his fellow fallen soldiers. Decades later, one Marine testified that despite the chaos of that day, Mr. Babbitt had saved his life.
When Mr. Babbitt returned from Vietnam in 1969, he carried more than just physical wounds. He developed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and paranoid schizophrenia, both tied to his combat experiences. Haunted by flashbacks, he struggled to find stability. He was briefly confined at Bridgewater State Hospital for the criminally insane — a facility notorious for isolating and abusing its patients. After his release, he drifted into homelessness, living on the streets of Providence, Rhode Island.
Mr. Babbitt eventually fathered two children with his common-law wife, but struggled to maintain stability at home. His wife later testified about terrifying episodes where Mr. Babbit would run through their home shouting, “The bombs are coming. The baby’s going to get killed.”
In 1980, while experiencing a mental health episode, Mr. Babbitt broke into the home of an elderly woman, beating her before robbing her residence. The woman was later found dead due to a heart attack believed to have been caused by the stress of the break in. Mr. Babbitt’s brother, who had been helping care for him since his release from the hospital, turned him into the police, hoping the justice system would provide Mr. Babbitt the psychiatric help he desperately needed. The family was assured by the police that Mr. Babbitt would not face execution.
But In 1982, Mr. Babbitt was capitally tried before an all-white jury in California. He never denied his role in the victim’s death, though he claimed to have no memory of the incident. At age 49, Mr. Babbitt was sentenced to death. Years later, two jurors acknowledged they would not have voted for a death sentence had they known about his decorated combat service and history of mental illness.
In 1998, while awaiting execution, Mr. Babbitt finally received recognition for his military service in Vietnam and was awarded the Purple Heart. On May 4, 1999, one day after his 50th birthday, Mr. Babbitt was executed by lethal injection at San Quentin State Prison. He declined his last meal, instead asking that the $50 allotted for the meal be given to homeless Vietnam veterans. This request was denied by prison officials.
Andrew Brannan
Andrew Howard Brannan was a decorated Vietnam veteran whose life unraveled under the weight of war trauma and untreated mental illness, ultimately leading to his execution by the state of Georgia in 2015.
Mr. Brannan volunteered for the United States Army in 1969, at the age of 20, and trained as a parachutist. From June 1970 to early 1971, he served as an Artillery Forward Observer in Vietnam. This position required him to be in the field for all but seven days of his tour. Twice, after officers in his unit were killed, Mr. Brannan assumed command. He himself only narrowly escaped death. For his service, he was honorably discharged in 1971 and awarded the Bronze Star (awarded for heroic or meritorious achievement or service in a combat zone) and two Army Commendation Medals (awarded to individuals who distinguish themselves by heroism, outstanding achievement, or meritorious service).
Like many veterans, Mr. Brannan returned home carrying invisible wounds. He struggled to hold down jobs, and his marriage fell apart. By 1984, the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) recognized Mr. Brannan’s service-connected PTSD and granted him partial disability benefits. By 1991, his condition had worsened, and he was deemed 100% disabled by his PTSD — a designation that, according to the VA, only about 11% of veterans with disability ratings between 70% and 100% received that year, a rating reserved for those whose symptoms amount to “total occupational and social impairment.” In 1996, a VA psychiatrist diagnosed Mr. Brannan with bipolar disorder. He was hospitalized at least two times for his mental health and, at times, completely withdrew from society, living in a shack in the woods.
In the week leading up to January 12, 1998, Mr. Brannan was unable to refill his psychotropic medications at the VA pharmacy and had not taken them consistently for at least five days. That day, he was stopped by a police officer for speeding in Oconee County, Georgia. Ordered to get out of his truck, Mr. Brannan began acting erratically, at one point yelling at the deputy, asking him to shoot him while shouting that he was a “goddamned Vietnam combat veteran.” The situation escalated when Mr. Brannan retrieved his rifle from his vehicle and fired nine shots, killing Deputy Sheriff Kyle Bikheller. Mr. Brannan himself was also shot and later found with an abdominal wound in a camouflage tent in the woods. At the time of this crime, he had no prior criminal record.
Mr. Brannan’s trial offered little acknowledgement of his military service or his resulting struggles with mental illness. The defense barely mentioned his military record, and no fellow soldiers were called to testify on his behalf. While his trial attorney presented evidence that Mr. Brannan was diagnosed with PTSD, the Veterans Affairs doctor who treated him never testified. The prosecution openly belittled Mr. Brannan’s struggle with mental illness, telling the jury, “everybody’s got a little PTSD.” Despite his psychiatric history and lack of criminal record, Mr. Brannan was sentenced to death by the state of Georgia in 1998.
In the years that followed, advocates argued that his case epitomized the nation’s failure to care for veterans suffering from war-related trauma. The VA, which identified Mr. Brannan as 100% disabled due to service-related PTSD, played no role in his legal proceedings.
On January 13, 2015, at 66 years old, Andrew Brannan was executed by lethal injection at the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification Prison in Jackson. Hours before, when his attorney told him that his case had raised awareness about PTSD in veterans. Mr. Brannan responded: “I am proud to have been able to walk point for my comrades and pray that the same thing does not happen to any of them.”
