The raw emotions that would redefine Rose Clark's life began rising on Valentine's Day in 1992 when she learned that her brother, Ernest West Basden, had been charged with accepting $300 to kill Billy White.

For the next 10 years, the Kinston woman was buffeted by shock, guilt, shame, anger and unrequited hope as Basden awaited his fate on death row. Clark still hasn't found the words to describe the emotions that seized her on Dec. 2, 2002, as she watched her baby brother die of lethal injection at Raleigh's Central Prison.

"The murder victim's family has terrible, heartbreaking pain, but so does the family of the accused," Clark said in a phone interview.

That suffering by the family and friends of North Carolina's death-row inmates was recognized Sunday at an interfaith service and supper held at Raleigh's Christian Faith Baptist Church. About 100 people attended the event, which featured religious readings, prayers for the victims and perpetrators of crimes, a reading of the names of all 166 people on North Carolina's death row and brief words from some of their loved ones.

"Our message to the families of people on death row is, you matter," said Stephen Dear, executive director of the advocacy group that organized the service, People of Faith Against the Death Penalty.

Before the event, keynote speaker the Rev. William Barber acknowledged some might find this sympathy misplaced. But Barber, president of the North Carolina NAACP and pastor of Greenleaf Christian Church in Goldsboro, argued those who do not share his fierce opposition to the death penalty should extend mercy to these "innocent victims."

"As a pastor, I have worked with families on both sides of this terrible issue," Barber explained. "Love and compassion cannot be one-sided, we must offer it to everyone who is in pain and needs support."

There are about 3,350 death-row prisoners in the United States, Dear said. The average inmate spends 10.5 years awaiting execution.

In North Carolina, death-row inmates are not provided access to phones. They are allowed to see visitors once a week, in noncontact meetings usually held behind Plexiglass windows. "The only time family members and friends can hug or touch them," Dear said, "is on the eve of their execution."

Although her brother was executed more than five years ago, Clark said she still engages in self-recrimination. "You think, 'Where did I go wrong? What else should I have done?' If only I'd reached out more, tried harder, maybe he'd still be alive."

King said such emotions are compounded by the unwillingness of others to recognize their pain. Adults are blamed for their family member's crimes. Children are stigmatized at school.

"It took me a while to realize that I shouldn't feel guilty about my emotions," Clark said. "Now, I hope that other people, no matter how they feel about the death penalty, will think about everyone left hurting and helpless."