This morning we woke to the news that Australian citizens Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran had been executed in Indonesia after ten years in prison, for drug trafficking offences.

The execution has been imminent for most of this year and has heavily occupied the Australian media, sparking heated debates in all corners. I’m still trying to figure out what I think about it all, ricocheting between viewpoints.

In a black and white world, these two men committed a crime in full knowledge of the penalty should they be caught in Indonesia. But the loss of life is a tragedy. And a lifetime in Kerobokan prison is surely a severe enough penalty.

By all reports Chan and Sukumaran were rehabilitated – they both found religion, studied, and worked with other prisoners towards their reform. What’s the point of trying to better yourself and others as a small token to atone for your crimes if in the end it makes no difference? They were young men when they became caught up in this world, and haven’t we all done some dumb shit when we were younger? Of course for the most part we did not commit crimes, but each of us has mistakes in our past and have been grateful for second chances and the opportunity to make amends.

That said, I’m also very uncomfortable at the way each of these men has been held up by the media as a sort of paragon. This is the only story that mainstream media is covering on the morning news programs today, despite all of the important happenings in the world – no mention of Nepal, where thousands have died, or the rescue of 200 girls kidnapped by Boko Haram.

Not only is it entirely unnecessary to watch ambulances containing coffins drive from the island, the overwhelming effect of the tone of Australian media coverage makes it seem that at times we’ve lost sight of the fact that Chan and Sukumaran are criminals. They were convicted of drug smuggling and were therefore part of an industry that destroys lives and tears families apart.

Countless people have lost their lives as a result of drug addiction or drug-related crimes. (I’ve seen commentary online that using drugs is a choice, which is an entirely ignorant point of view that shows an extreme lack of understanding of addiction. Turning to crime or selling your body to fund a drug addiction is not something people would do if they were truly free to choose).

We’ve seen over and over the footage of Sukumaran’s sister almost paralysed by her grief as she exits the prison (footage which makes me utterly uncomfortable; there is no need for the media to intrude on such a devastating moment, let alone plaster it across the country). But it is a powerful image and I am sorry for Chan and Sukumaran’s families, both for their loss and for the ordeal they’ve been through over the past months. But what of the families of those lost to drugs? Or who lost loved ones at the hands of someone affected by drugs? I have no doubt that when someone gets the call that their brother, sister, parent or best friend has died, their grief is as overwhelming and as palpable. What if we saw that grief splashed across our screens every week? Perhaps that would be an effective deterrent when your mate asks you to try ice with him.

I can’t find a clear answer here. My head understands that they committed a crime for which they knew the possible consequences. But my heart hurts that men who have tried so hard to make up for their mistakes have died. It’s difficult not to have compassion for them.

Ultimately, I am opposed to the death penalty. Perhaps it’s naïve but I believe there are very few people in this world who truly deserve to die. The death penalty takes away the opportunity for reform and to turn your life around. While I have strong opinions about the luxuries prisoners are afforded and the cost associated with their incarceration, particularly in Australia, I cannot agree to making the decision to end a person’s life.