I live in a southern US state, in a small
suburban town that most people who don’t live within twenty miles have probably never
heard of. I’ve got a nice, beautiful house with a
perfect, green lawn, a big pool in the backyard, and a perfect family. I married my high school sweetheart and we
have four wonderful kids and three dogs. From the outside you would think I have it
all, a great, quiet life, with no problems, nothing at all to complain about. But I carry inside me a deep, dark secret. Something my neighbors, my closest friends,
my kids, even my wife doesn’t know. Hell, I wouldn’t even tell my favorite dog. My secret, the one that almost no one knows,
is that I am a death row executioner. I took the job without really thinking about
what I would actually have to do. I was barely out of high school and working
as a corrections officer when I was approached, asking if I’d be interested in a special
project. The current executioner was in need of some
help. Just as a short term assignment they told
me. Little did I know, that I would end up as
the only executioner in the state, and would carry out over 60 executions. Every execution means first preparing my mind,
which is tough when I keep my work a secret. But I knew when I agreed to become the executioner
that this would be my burden alone to bear. No one else in my family needs to be saddled
with what I do in my line of work. I’m certainly not the first person to do
this job, and I have a feeling I’ll be far from the last. State executions have been a part of the US
way of life from the very beginning, before there even was a United States in the 1600s
when the colonists came over. They brought with them the British Penal Code
from the United Kingdom in Europe. The penal code is the law used to govern the
treatment of criminals, traitors and blasphemers, and this code made ready use of capital punishment
for crimes. Death was the required sentence for all kinds
of petty crimes, anything from stealing chickens, to adultery to witchcraft would lead to you
being sentenced to death. And back in the 1600s they would have carried
it out by hanging, stoning or even burning at the stake, so at least today the method
used is more humane, or at least I try to think so. Today, petty crimes bring with them a jail
sentence, and now it’s only a conviction for murder or treason that can lead to capital
punishment. At least nowadays, the job that I do is not
public, but before the 1900s, executions were mostly conducted with a public audience. It was only in 1936 that the last public execution
was held in the US. Since then, all executions have remained a
private affair, with only a very select few allowed to watch, usually the victim’s family,
and maybe some of the law enforcement officials who were involved. With the huge crowds gone, I can keep my job
a secret and carry my conscience alone. Not every prison has the facilities to conduct
executions, but the prison I worked in as a CO just happened to have an execution chamber. With it’s pod style buildings and clinical
feel, this part of the prison can feel more like a campus on a research university than
an execution site. But this is the place I work, a soulless place
with a specific purpose. Putting aside for a moment the moral and psychological
issues, being the State Executioner is a more difficult job to do than you might think. The preparation I conduct before an execution
starts two weeks in advance when the inmate arrives at the facility. Oftentimes they’ve come from a different
prison in the state where they’ve been on death row for years. Our security team springs into action, providing
around the clock security, while the staff starts up a schedule of training for the final
day. We train for every possible scenario, such
as if we meet an especially high level of resistance and violence from the inmate, or
if they refuse to cooperate in any way. This training is supposed to prepare us for
the job, and it makes me feel much more ready for logistical aspects of the day, but nothing
can prepare you for the mental stresses. Twenty four hours before the execution I like
to step in and help with the death watch. It isn’t strictly required that I take part
in the final watch, but there’s something about being able to see the inmate before
they’re lead into the death chamber that makes the whole thing seem a little better
somehow. My watch usually spans a section of time in
the middle of the night. I record all movements, actions and events
that involve the inmate. The day of the execution is when the inmate
eats their last meal and receives a final visit from family or friends, if they have
anyone at all that is. It seems like more often than not, no one
shows up to that last visitation. I use this time to test the equipment that
has been chosen for use in the execution. My family has basically no idea about the
work I do, beside the fact that it’s at a prison. I keep details scant and try to tell them
the smallest amount of information possible, but that can get tough when we’ve encountered
some violence or resistance and I come home with bruises or cuts. I am known for keeping order, and I’ll never
hesitate to jump in and break up a fight and restrain an aggressive or violent inmate myself. I hope my wife and children think that I’m
just a tough correctional officer who occasionally sees a little danger at the prison. As you can imagine, the day of the execution
is always the toughest. I dread these days more than any other in
my life. The inmates have been in this prison for at
least two weeks at this point, and even if you haven’t spoken to them, you can get
to feeling like you know them just from the paperwork and reviewing of files. This only makes the job more difficult and
even though the process of the execution is carried out by a team, that doesn’t get
rid of the feeling of personal responsibility I have for ending a person’s life. If the inmate has accepted their fate then
at least you know you will not meet resistance, but if they have not then there is a tense
air that circulates the whole prison, wondering what’s going to happen in those final moments
as they’re lead from their cell to the chamber. It’s a horrible place to be for everyone
involved. Working as an executioner is a strange experience
and it’s left me questioning morality, how could you not when you’ve got a job that
brings you face to face with death. As DNA evidence has become more and more advanced,
many more inmates on death row have been found innocent of the crimes they were charged for. Earl Washington Junior was the first person
to be exonerated of his crimes while on death row thanks to DNA evidence and since 1973,
there have been over 150 exonerations where a death row inmate has been released and all
charges dropped. I used to think that almost no one could end
up here, exhaust all their appeals, and be put to death if they were actually innocent. Now... well now I just don’t know anymore. If you couldn’t tell, I don’t much enjoy
my job. If I could go back in time and do things over
again, I’d never accept that request to work with the executioner. I have to live with my actions, despite the
fact that the law states it’s legal. I have found this job to be very isolating. I constantly fear the judgement I would receive
if my family, friends and neighbours knew the truth and I worry that they’d be judged
just the same as me. My wife knows that I keep things from her
and it’s strained our marriage. Sometimes I think it’d be easier to hide
an affair, or hell, a whole second family, than to keep this secret. In our state, the available methods are either
electrocution, sending up to 3,000 volts of electricity directly into the person, or lethal
injection which injects a special cocktail of chemicals designed to end life as quickly
and painlessly as possible. We’ve used electrocution since the 1800s
and for years and years was the most popular for of execution in the country. There’s something about that chair, and
the raw power coursing through it that captured the public’s imagination and has made it
one of the iconic symbols of execution. I even remember seeing a documentary once
where Thomas Eddison used electricity to kill an elephant as part of a demonstration. But in the 1990s lethal injection was introduced
as the safe and humane form of ending someone’s life, and it quickly became the most popular
form of execution. Electrocution is my preferred execution method,
mostly for selfish reasons since it creates a distance between myself and the inmate as
I simply press a button, wait, and within about two and a half minutes the job is usually
done. With lethal injection, I’m using a syringe
to put the lethal chemicals into a tube that’s running to the condemned. The whole process feels more personal, more
connected, and death can take minutes or even hours if the staff has trouble finding a vein. As the executioner, I’m always positioned
behind a partition and curtain, so I’m only able to see my equipment, never the actual
inmate. Other members of staff lead the inmate into
the room and a doctor is present to check that the heart has stopped and give an official
time of death after the method of execution is administered. I am no different from my neighbour who works
in an office, or at the local factory, except that my job requires me to take a life. Everytime I am required to perform an execution
I have to justify to myself the reasons behind why this has to be done. I’ve always heard that you can’t have
law without punishment, but some days that’s hard to believe. I am always trying to think of ways to help,
to prevent people from even entering the system of correction in the first place. If I can help stop people from committing
the crimes in the first place, then there will be fewer executions to undertake. I like to work with local schools, inviting
the school kids in to the prison and showing them around. I like to shock them and even frighten them
a little. I take them to the death chamber and sit them
in the chair. I explain how the execution takes place and
when electrocution is chosen that 2,400 - 3,000 volts of electricity are passed through the
person. The majority of students take this tour very
seriously and I have even received letters of thanks from them after their visit. I just hope that by trying to educate the
younger generation that I can help prevent some of these kids from even committing the
crime in the first place and ending up in a place like this. However, this alone doesn’t feel like it
justifies the job for me. There must be more that I can do? I do sometimes think about leaving the job,
but when you have a family to feed and a mortgage to pay and the only thing on your resume is
“executioner” the prospect of finding new work is a scary idea. I have everything covered with this job, decent
benefits, even a pension. And let’s face it, if I wasn’t doing this
job, then someone else would. Sitting in my kitchen with my family around
me, I am no longer a State Executioner, I am once again just a family man. But I can never fully escape what I am. That stress is always there in the background,
just waiting, as I’m never more than a phone call away from having to slip into my alter
ego and once again, becoming an executioner.
