Death Row: Waiting to be Killed

On February 19th 2013, William Lee Hill was just half an hour away from being judicially executed, when two stays of execution reached the prison warden.

From one Georgia judge came concerns about the method of killing him.  He was to be given a single injection of sodium pentobarbital, a highly controversial procedure usually used as a last resort.

From another courtroom, the temporary reprieve came because three doctors testified that Mr Hill was intellectually disabled.  He had an IQ of just 70, which meant that he was unable to really grasp abstract concepts - like the rights and wrong of murder, and why people might want to kill him in cold blood.

It wasn't the first time that such last minute stops had been in place.  It wasn't even the first time for Mr Hill.  He'd been an hour away from death last time.  The previous execution in the state of Georgia had been Troy Davis.  He had been strapped to the gurney, when a judge called a halt. 

It was ultimately abortive and he was back there within hours.

There will always be those who argue that it doesn't matter.  These people are criminals, murderers and the scum of the Earth. They do not deserve to be treated like sentient human beings.  They killed someone.

Mr Hill killed two people actually.  The first was his girlfriend Myra Wright. The second was a fellow inmate on Death Row named Joseph Handspike.  Mr Hill was scheduled for execution for the latter. Which leaves us with the ludicrous situation wherein we have to examine the pedantry of murder.

Hill has to die, because he killed someone whom the state had reserved the right to kill.  Neither Ms Wright nor Mr Handspike saw their death coming.  Mr Hill did.  He watched it approaching with all of the force of a freight train; then twice he watched it pass by again.  And another date was set.

It is all horror.  But in some cases, the retribution is more horrific than the crime, and such monstrous acts are justified under a layer of legality.  To my mind, that does not make it any more civilized.

I sat for hours with my dying uncle.  He had choked to death on a biscuit; at least he would have, if medical machinery weren't keeping his vital organs functioning. 

We took the decision to switch them off, as his brain had gone.  He was no longer there.

The scene was tragic.  His wife, his siblings, his family and friends all took turns to wait by his bedside.  We were saying our goodbyes.  It was heart-breaking to be there and heart-breaking to witness others being there.

What made it so much worse was the fact that this wasn't natural causes.  Not really.  Had someone with the right knowledge and training been there to smack his back, then he'd still be with us now.  The biscuit would have dislodged.

You can half forgive heart failure, cancer or a disastrous series of strokes.  They feel like an allocated time on this Earth finally running out - a natural turning of the cycle from birth until death.  We live, and then we die.  This is the way of things. 

But what if your goodbyes were to a family member or friend in the prime of their life?  What if the person before you was as vital and healthy as they were loved?

Imagine looking a loved one in the eye, or hugging them, knowing that they are going to be killed within hours. There is nothing you can do about it.  Half of the country will rejoice at it happening. Half the world will condemn your nation as barbarians for letting it happen.  Those are bigger issues, for now this is your parent, sibling, child, spouse, relative or friend in grave danger. It's personal.

It's not about deciding to switch off the machine on someone already technically dead. It's about having to leave them - conscious and healthy - in the hands of those who will kill them.  All of your tears and fury will not stop that.  A judge decreed it; a law allowed it.

There is so much talk about the individual themselves.   He or she deserves to suffer in this way, because their crimes were heinous.  But their wider circle did nothing.  Mr Hill's mother killed no-one.  His cousin is law-abiding and innocent.  His friend wouldn't hurt a fly. 

Yet they have to go through this emotionally excruciating scenario.  Then repeat it each time there is a stay of execution.

My favorite food is my mother's lasagne.  As a child, I bounced with glee in the kitchen, when I saw the shopping bag filled with the ingredients.  In truth, I do the same as an adult.

I also love pizza, and those Burger King cheese and chili balls.  I'm partial to Stilton and broccoli soup; Brie with a slab of hot baked bread and cranberry sauce; pasta with pesto and pine nuts; grey peas and vegetarian bacon; Derby cakes and Welsh cakes.  

Any one of these could be chosen as my last meal, if I was on Death Row.  What would you choose?

On the final day, those about to die will be with their loved ones for an hour or two.  Twelve family members and friends will be crowded into a room, where they can cuddle, cry and say goodbye face to face.  Another sixteen will be allowed to talk remotely, with telephones through bullet-proof glass. 

After that, the condemned is taken away to eat their last meal.  How appetizing can that be?  Filled with the upset and emotion of those final goodbyes, you are confronted with food.  You know that it will be the last thing that you will ever eat. 

It must taste like sawdust in their mouths.  A brick in their stomach. 

Everything that happens, that's seen, heard or felt, has a stamp of finality about it on that day.  They know the exact time of their death.  It won't be a kind death either.  Even if things go right, then it will be terrifying and painful.  Things frequently go wrong.  Those are the most horrific of all premeditated killings.

All of these last sightings, last conversations, last glimpse of that brickwork, skylight or bed, is enough to send the most resolute individual half mad.

Yet still the blood-thirsty mob will slobber out the baying cries, "But they deserved it!  They killed someone!"   But so did you, when you allowed this to happen without a call to your representative nor a letter to the paper.  "They showed no mercy to their victims!"  And two wrongs apparently  make it right.

No-one ever suggests that murder should go unpunished, nor any of the other terrible crimes. But for the average armchair serial killers, the only possible punishment is state sanctified slaughter. With no blood on their hands, it allows for silence and inaction to send a person to their death; and that is not humane.