I’m sitting strapped down in a chair, and
I’m nearly blinded by a bright light hanging above me. Suddenly, there is a terrible screaming noise—I
know I need to escape but can’t move in the restraints, so I start screaming too. The sound is unbearable and suffocating, until
I manage to break free and sit up... — Only to realize, with a mixture of shock
and relief, that it was just a nightmare. I’m in my cell, sitting in my bed, and the
terrible sound was just the wake-up alarm echoing through the halls of this maximum
security prison. It’s 5:00am. Today, will just be another day spent waiting… Because I am an inmate on death row, and in
one month, I will be executed by lethal injection. Being alone has taken an enormous toll on
my psyche—I regularly experience nightmares and hallucinations. I haven’t slept well in years. My day begins with breakfast, which comes
on a tray handed to me through a slit in my cell’s door. To eat, the only utensil I’m allowed is
a spork. For the majority of my day, I will remain
in my six by ten foot cell completely isolated: the walls are concrete and there is just one
tiny window to the outside. Each hour, prison guards walk by to take a
count of the inmates. Because I have no one else to talk to, I talk
to myself and attempt to stay focused on reality. Will I be able to preserve my sanity, as my
execution date approaches? My daily routine is strict and varies little. As inmates sentenced to the harshest form
of punishment available, what we can and cannot do has been debated extensively over the years—people
disagree over whether or not solitary confinement is inhumane or just a necessary security precaution,
and whether or not leisure activities are privileges we do not deserve. Because of these disagreements, death row
inmates’ routines vary across states and facilities. Some places, for example, do not allow prisoners
to participate in work duty or to earn money, or to spend time outdoors regularly. Some don’t allow interaction with other
inmates, and others restrict which days inmates can shower. I am lucky to have some small enjoyments in
this prison, such as a television which is kept outside of my cell bars. I appreciate this not because it provides
entertainment—to me, it is a reminder of normal life outside in the real world. On a good day, I can spend up to two hours
out of my cell—getting to shower, being outside in the recreational yard, or getting
a brief visit from a family member. Today, I will get to spend an hour at my favorite
place in the prison: the library. My focus since my conviction and sentencing,
like so many on death row, has been to work on my appeal. Having brief access to this library has helped
with legal research throughout this process; I borrow books, take notes, and, even though
we don’t have internet, I can use computers for research. Most of the inmates live here for decades,
and the appeals process is mostly to blame for this. It takes time for the state to find and appoint
legal counsel for us, and scheduling delays exacerbate the problem. On average, inmates spend over 15 years on
death row, and many wait much longer. We are more likely to die of natural causes
before ever getting a state-sanctioned execution. After my own conviction and sentencing to
death, I first made a direct appeal. Most sentenced to death appeal; in fact, in
some states, they are automatically given an appeal. Appeals can work their way all the way up
to the state’s highest court; in some states, they must be accepted by the state supreme
court. Most of my fellow inmates do not pursue appeals
beyond the state courts. During this process, we are limited to the
evidence on the record—that is, presented during the original trial. A successful appeal can completely or partially
overturn the lower court’s conviction. Unfortunately for me, the state courts denied
my appeals. However, I still haven’t exhausted my legal
options, because I was also able to file a writ of habeas corpus. For this, I was appointed a different lawyer,
which took several more years of waiting. Writs deal with constitutional rights issues
and unlike a direct appeal allow off-the-record information to be brought forward that was
not in my first trial. Newly discovered evidence, insufficient counsel,
and juror misconduct are all reasons they can be filed. During my original trial, there was a Brady
violation, which means the prosecution withheld evidence that could’ve helped my defense
case. Although my writ of habeas corpus was denied
in the state courts, I was able to file with the federal district court… yet, as each denial comes in, I am slowly
running out of legal options. Hopefully today, my attorney will be able
to provide an update from the federal court. In theory, my appeal could then make its way
to the federal appellate court. If that fails, I can bring it to the U.S.
Supreme Court. The Supreme Court takes very few death row
cases and once they deny an appeal, that means the appeals process has been officially exhausted. At that point, a convict’s only hope is
being granted executive clemency—but this is incredibly rare. My scheduled execution date is for next month,
though it has been delayed before. If it isn’t, I will face lethal injection,
the primary method used today—though some states do technically allow death by hanging,
lethal gas, electrocution, and even firing squad. It’s hard to feel afraid about the actual
execution, anymore… I don’t worry about feeling pain, although
I worry about what will come after death. After so many years, I wonder now if I will
be more relieved on my execution day than fearful. When my attorney visits, I’m handcuffed
and we must be separated by a glass wall—as is the process for every visitor we have. I’m relieved to find out that my execution
has been delayed again. A federal judge has requested a hearing with
new evidence. When I return to my cell, I am feeling so
accomplished about this small legal success, that I decide to put together a letter for
my family. Every year, the prison takes our photograph
so that we have a picture to mail home for the holidays, and I just got a new picture
to send to them. I am lucky to have support outside of this
system; it keeps me going through this never-ending appeals process. Truthfully, I can’t imagine this appeals process
ever ending in a release… or even an execution… But, if I can focus on the end goal, maybe
things will turn out differently for me and I will get a second chance at life.
