VERDICT ELICITS RELIEF, SENSE OF REVENGE.

Byline: Rick Bragg The New York Times

Once again, with the rap of a gavel, many of the people touched by Timothy McVeigh's bomb got exactly what they demanded from a jury, and once again it was somehow less than what they had hungered for.

The federal jury in Denver brought back the only verdict that a clear majority of McVeigh's victims say they can live with, and while there seemed to be no loud celebration of his death sentence in Oklahoma City, it did bring relief and a sense of revenge in a heartland city that, before him, had seemed safe and ordered.

``If this didn't fit the death penalty, then we didn't need one,'' said Martin Cash, who lost an eye and was badly scarred in the bombing, which killed 168 people and wounded 850.

Cash went to the site of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, now a vacant lot, when he heard of that verdict. It won't change the fact that he has, as he called it, ``a plastic eye,'' or the fact that so many families have gaps. But it is ``satisfaction,'' he said, and ``it'll help some.''

As the verdict was broadcast over television and radio, people started to cry, to laugh. Some just said, ``Thank God.'' People hugged on sidewalks and in hotel lobbies.

But even while some of McVeigh's victims quietly rejoiced at the prospect of his death, others were struck anew by how little real joy it caused. Some family members of people killed April 19, 1995, reacted angrily to reporters' questions of whether the death sentence would bring ``closure'' - since it is only punishment, not peace.

And to the few, mostly silent ones who believe the execution will bring nothing good, the verdict brought only sadness that the bombing may yet cost one more life.

``It was just punishment, and it fit the crime,'' said Jim Denny, whose two toddlers, Brandon and Rebecca, were wounded in the blast. Brandon, 5, has endured several surgeries from a hole blown in his skull, just one of so many others who struggle each day to regain the life that was mangled by the bombing. Brandon runs and plays, but with a limp.

``There will always be this deep, deep hurt,'' said Denny, who also went to the site of the bombing, where reporters outnumbered the people they interviewed.

He has said he and his wife, Claudia, could have lived with a sentence of life in prison for McVeigh - ``as long as a terrorist is off the street.''

Bud Welch, whose grown daughter died in the bombing, had prayed that McVeigh would not be sentenced to death.

For about six months after the death of his daughter, Julie Marie, Welch said, he wanted capital punishment exacted, but that anger faded with time and was replaced by the teachings of his Roman Catholic faith and with his daughter's words.

He remembered a conversation they had a few years ago as he drove her to school at Marquette University in Wisconsin, where she studied languages on a full scholarship. They were talking about the death penalty.

Welch, who also went to the bomb site after the verdict, recalled: ``She said, `Dad, it has no redeeming social value. It's no deterrent to crime. It just teaches our children to hate.' ''

With his daughter's words ringing in his head, he said, how could he demand McVeigh's death?

``Hate and vengeance is where the bombing came from,'' Welch said. ``Hate is exactly what it is. His death will not solve anything. It's not going to bring my daughter back. It's not going to bring any peace.''

His daughter had worked in the Social Security Administration office as a interpreter. She had left her desk to go get a client from a waiting room, toward the front of the building, and was walking back to the inner part of the building, the safer part, when the bomb exploded.

Rescue workers said that if the explosion had happened just a few seconds later, she might have lived, as others did.

Welch said he has to live the rest of his life knowing that. ``This train has to stop somewhere, if we're ever going to get our lives back,'' he added.

But the very notion of a Timothy McVeigh behind bars, still possibly spreading his message of hate by pamphlet or computer, was just too much for many in Oklahoma City.

They contended that it was better to risk turning him into a dead martyr than to risk his becoming a Charles Manson-like figure who could gather even larger numbers of disturbed people to him.

``It stops; it stops here,'' said Mike Lenz, whose wife, Carrie, who was pregnant at the time, was killed in the attack.

Jannie Coverdale, whose two grandsons were killed in the bombing, agreed.

``That is the only reason for asking for his death,'' Coverdale said by phone from Denver. ``We don't need him in prison recruiting people to go out and hurt other people. We have enough people like Timothy McVeigh walking around out there already.''

Several people said McVeigh's execution was worth the risk of losing any information that he might take to his grave.

For weeks now, they have heard witness accounts of McVeigh's actions and attitude in the courtroom. Never did he show any remorse for the pain they suffered.

Why would he be forthcoming in prison? people ask.

Coverdale said she felt ``so sorry'' for his parents in the Denver courtroom but that the enormity of the crime justified the death sentence

CAPTION(S):

2 Photos

Photo: (1) From left, police chaplain Jack Poe, family member Matt Story and survivor Calvin Moser sing ``God Bless America'' at the blast site Friday.

(2) James Blassengill and his wife, Willie, react to the death-penalty verdict.

Associated Press