I would like to share some things with you that I learned throughout the experience of facing imminent execution. I learned to live in the moment when I received my execution date. We have heard it said this is the day that the Lord has made let us rejoice and be glad in it! That revelation was made clear to me during that time. I learned that to live for today is freeing because I’m no longer living through my past failures, hurts or pains. The mistakes of yesterday no longer have the hold on me as they used too because I’m not there anymore. I’m in today, and tomorrow will take care of itself. So I was free to live in the moment. The execution date that was down the line, and I was not promised to even reach that date. I choose to live free and happy each day, and not worry about what was looming ahead.
And then, the day of the execution arrived. As the clock ticked on from the 25th 11:59 to 12:00 the 26th, I was up packing property, sorting things out to give things away, should I be executed. I say, “should I be executed,” but I’ll be honest; I thought I was going to die that day. All the things I had hope in and believed were going to help me had, one by one, been stripped away. I had lost hope, but I was not sad or scared because I was free, and I had the peace that Philippians 4:7 talks about that surpasses all understanding. So, as I packed up my property and the clock hit 2 am, I knew I needed some sleep. I tell the guys I’m going to bed, and I’ll holler at them in the morning after I get up and I set my alarm for 6 am. It went off and I’m like not yet, so I hit the snooze and as I’m lying there, the property officer showed up.
“Speer, I’m here to get your property.”
I was not expecting her at 6 o’clock in the morning and tell her I’m not ready. She leaves. I get up and get back on my property, but something is wrong. I can’t think clearly, my mind does not want to wake up or snap out of this fog. So, as I’m doing my property the field ministers (inmate chaplains) show up and they pray with me. But still, my mind is in this fog that won’t clear up. I’m supposed to be sorting property, but I can’t think clearly. I’m throwing out trash, and more time passes. I’m still sorting property. Then I see the clock. I tell the field ministers I’m out of time, but I need more time. The lieutenant arrives and says it’s time to go. I tell him that I’d already talked to my family and told them I’d be a little late. He replies that the officers would finish packing for me, but he needs to get me to the visit area. He sends everyone out and has a personal talk with me. Then he strips me out (strip searches) and I get ready to leave. I step out of the cell and the field ministers are permitted to hug me. That was something special. Then I was allowed to go around the pod to say farewell. I told everyone to celebrate and eat tacos! After that we walked on to the visiting area.
I arrive and get settled in with my visitors, who fill me with so much strength. My mind begins to clear, and we have our last moments of time visiting. My pops leaves at my request so I can have the last little alone time with my love. She has truly been a blessing to me, and God showed me many special things through her. Now the officer gives us a fifteen-minute warning, then ten-minute warning. Just three minutes after the five-minute warning the officer is back, telling my love she must leave immediately. We kiss our goodbyes and I watch her walk away. Deep sigh! Now I am escorted to the restroom behind the visiting area. I use it as instructed in preparation for the long ride ahead. A leather belt is cinched around my waist and my hands are cuffed to it in front of me. The door opens and someone double-checks the cuffs. The hallway is full of rank. I’m escorted by two sergeants. We go out the door, leaving 1 building, followed by everyone else. We begin “the walk” from 1 building to 12 building. As I walk, I begin to hear knocking. It gets louder and louder, coming from the cells of my friends who were watching me leave, saying goodbye in their own way. This is a tradition that’s gone on ever since the men were moved from Ellis to Polunsky Unit. First, it was knocking from A-pod F-section, as the men got into the van. Then, the administration moved Death Watch from F-section to A-section. The day of my scheduled execution, it was like every cell was knocking. It’s hard to describe the feeling that came over me to know they were there, seeing me off, and that in some way, I meant something to them. The knocking came from 12 building B-pod, where the guys have gotten in their windows and were knocking with hair brushes or knuckles to make known their support of me. The knocking continued until I was all the way in 12 building.
Once in the building I went through metal detectors and on down the hall to be strip-searched very thoroughly and given new clothes. The boxer shorts I was given were so big I tied the side straps together in the back and I still had to pull the front around as tight as I could just to keep them up. I put on the new jumpsuit then the cloth slippers. I was handcuffed, chained, and shackled. As I’m being shackled Warden Jackson, who has a reputation of being very stern, looks at me and says, “You made a difference here.”
I say, “Thank you,” and off we go to get in the van.
Now, at this time I’m trying to move as fast as my shackled legs will carry me, because the sooner I get over there to the walls the sooner I can call my family and friends. Down the hallway I pass by the team, waiting just in case I have a change of heart. Whether I am willing or unwilling, they are there to make sure I get on that van to Huntsville. But like I said, I was in a hurry to get there, to begin my phone time. So, as we come out the door, I hear the knocking from B-pod again. One man still there, still standing in solidarity with me. Although I didn’t know who it was at the time, my strength, courage, and endurance all received a boost. I was already good because God had already given me everything I needed to take this journey, but still, it sure felt good to feel this extra support.
At the back of the van I climb up the bumper steps, supported by my escorts, as it’s not an easy maneuver. As I step up into the rear of the van, I see this nice captain’s chair, and I pause, thinking to myself, wow I get to ride to Huntsville in luxury, but as I turn to sit down, I’m told to keep on walking to the back of the vehicle. I smile and turn to the back. It is very narrow and I’m having a hard time. I feel off balance. One of the officers says, “It’s easier for us big guys to go in backwards.” So, I turn around and go in backwards. I’m not sure if I said this out loud, but in my mind, I’m hearing myself say beep, beep, beep, as I back up into the cage and turn to sit down. With a smile, the officer who was a captain reaches in a put a seat belt on me. I’m surprised at that. It’s the first time I’ve been given a seat belt while in custody during transport from one place to another. The captain closes and locks the cage from his position in the nice captain’s chair. He asks me if I get car sick.
I say, “Yes I do.”
He opens the cage door again and places a small black desk trash can between my legs and closes the cage door, locking it from the outside. The warden introduces himself to me and asks me a couple questions. Have I ever taken this ride before? I reply, “No.”
The officers board the van and we began the slow, bumpy drive to the back gate, stopping at each gate leading up to it. The gates open, we drive through, then they close. Once, at the back gate the van is inspected. The back door opens, I am asked my name, then off we go to Huntsville.
Here I am, loaded in the van, calm and at peace, filled with desire to hurry up and arrive, to start my phone time, which admittedly does create a little anxiety within me. I’m looking out the front windshield, as there are no windows in the back or on the sides of the van. I sit back. I must look to my left to see out the windshield and I watch the gate slowly open, as the guard cranks the lever literally inches at a time. Time is running at a different pace for me now. It’s not fast; it’s just different. I’m more aware of time than I’ve ever been in my life. I am a little apprehensive and my mind is racing. I begin calculating everything I must do once I reach the Walls Unit, where my execution will occur. I imagine how I will be treated because of my past behavior while incarcerated. I’m hoping those I interact with will have heard of the change in me and believe that I’m not going to cause any problems. I try to figure out how much time I have left to give to each person that loves me. How do I do that? Who is going to be first who is going to be last? Some of it is easy, but other parts are not.
The van begins to accelerate. It turns and I see three cars ahead of us. The engine roars, and the driver guns it after each stop and turn. The ride is not as fast as I thought it would be. For years I listened to stories about the race to deliver the condemned to the Walls Unit. I thought they would drive like 120 mph the whole way. The drive is fast, but not crazy fast. We are crossing a long bridge and I’m looking out the front of the van. I see the low guard rail and looking past it, spot water. I think to myself how messed up it would be to blow out a tire and go over the rail and drown on my way to be executed. Suffocating is a fear of mine, so those thoughts brought me stress. The Alanis Morrissette song Isn’t it Ironic plays in my head. Those worries lasted but a few seconds and then I’m back to waiting for the ride to be over. I begin to feel the motion sickness coming on. I close my eyes and tilt my head up into the air conditioning vent. The cool air helps calm the feeling. Out the windshield I see a green sign that reads thirty-six miles to Huntsville. I think, Okay, thirty-six more miles. Then, the twenty-five-mile sign. I begin to feel the motion sickness again. Same cure. I tilt my head into the air and I’m better. Then I see the fourteen-mile sign, then seven miles. Then, Huntsville County line. It was only a couple minutes before the warden asks me if I could hear him.
I say, “Yes I can.”
He says, “You got a stay! We are taking you back to Polunsky.”
My thoughts run to the stay that Jedidiah Murphy got, and how quickly it was lifted. So, I ask, “Are they appealing it?”
He says, “I don’t know about that, but you got a stay for today.”
When he tells me this, I know I have a stay for at least ninety-two days.
I say, “How about that!”
At this point things get a little blurry. I know I begin to praise God. I ask for forgiveness for my doubts. I cry. I pray but my mind is in full blown shock. Because I believed I was going to be executed, I threw things away and gave all my belongings away. Now I’m alive for the foreseeable future. I’m on my way back to the Polunsky unit. Sitting there, so many thoughts race through my mind. All the people who pray for me. My love. My family, and the friends who stand by me. The victim’s family. Sammie and her daughter, and her desire for me to live. How she reached out to the parole board to help to save my life. All the guys back on the unit who will welcome me back. Even the officers and administration. As I think about these things, I notice we are still moving quickly toward the unit.
As the van speeds back to Polunsky Unit, I feel, deeper and deeper, something is off. Something is different. It’s something I’ve never felt before. I’m not fully realizing what has happened to me. I see the familiar sights getting closer and closer. I’m in awe of God, but there is more to it. I’m thinking about how I’m feeling, and I believe it’s shock. That makes me feel guilty because I’m grateful for what has just happened to me.
Now we are at the back gate and an officer acknowledges me. We go through the checks and then through the gate, back onto the unit. The gate is opening, and as it does, I can’t believe I’m really here, and then the van is going through the gates, down the road that is so bumpy you hit your head so many times you lose count, back to 12 building. Then we are pulling into the loading and unloading area, where I boarded the van. The driver turns the van around and switches it off. The officers get out and open the back door. I see a few people, rank, and Warden Sanders, smiling. As I exit the van, I almost fall but they catch me. Warden Sanders has the biggest smile on his face as he escorts me back into the building, telling me about the power of prayer and praising God.
I say, “Praise God,” and he says, “I can’t hear you!”
Again, I say, “Praise God!”
The warden is very excited, more than I am even, because I am in shock. I’ve heard of people being in shock, but never felt it myself until today. I want to be happy, but I’m feeling guilty because I can’t. I’m numb. We are walking to my new cell and as we get to the pod door it opens and we walk through it. I give out a holler, “Ooo-Yaah!” This is something I’ve been doing for a long time when I come back onto the pod. The pod erupts into cheers, and now I’m smiling. We walk into the new section I’m to be housed in. The guys are hollering, and a couple guys ask me to shout hello to the people they are talking to on the phone. At the cell my leg restraints are removed. The door closes and the handcuffs come off. We pray and then the escorts leave. I turn and begin looking for my tablet. I see it but I need to find my ear buds. I’m shaking and I can’t find the ear buds, causing me to panic a little. Then I find them and tear the bag open. I plug in the ear buds and turn on the tablet. I want to call my love but I’m having a hard time getting through. My voice is shaky. Then I’m able to get through. We rejoice together. I tell her what happened, and she tells me her side of the story, and as she does, I’m crying. Tears stream down my face. I hear the gate pop and at my door is Warden Jackson. I get up, wiping my tears as I walk to the door. He tells me he can’t imagine what I must be feeling, and that he meant what he said earlier. I thank him, and after a minute, off he goes. As he walks away, I ask if he’ll send field minister Gary Salinas over to talk with me. He says he will. I get back on the phone with my love. I tell her what happened and how I feel messed up. Officers show up at my door, asking if I want to go to shower. I say yes and gather my things. I shower and it makes me feel better. I head back to my cell and Gary is waiting, talking to one of the guys as I walk by. He smiles and tells me he’ll be down to talk to me in a minute. I get back in my cell and notice I don’t have a towel to dry off with. I also notice I don’t have a mattress. I tell the officers, and they say they’ll look into it. Gary comes and shares how he was told about the stay. Gary was asleep, awakened by an officer telling him that he’s needed on 12 building A-pod. He needs to go see a guy named Speer in A-21 who got a stay. Gary got so excited he ran all the way here, telling a brother along the way that “Will got a stay!” We talk for a while, pray, and then he leaves. I talk with my love until the phone cuts off at 8pm.
The phone shuts off and now I’m alone. I sit there, thinking. I remember the guys hollering at me and offering support. I ask for a couple things I need, like a toothbrush, some cleaning supplies, and shoestrings for my clothesline. I get all that and get to work. I look down at my tablet. It’s almost out of power. I’ve been going through my bags of property, putting things away as I talked. I’m looking for the charger. I find it and put the tablet on charge. I’m starting to realize a few things. I see the wet clothes still on the sink from my shower earlier. I tie a pair of shoestrings together and hang the wet clothes on it. I also notice I’m missing my necessities, which consists of a towel, socks, boxers, cell towel (washcloth), sheets, and a blanket. I’ve already talked with the officers about the mattress. Now I’m telling them about the sheets and blanket I need. I think to myself it’s cool in this cell. They finally get around to delivering a mattress. I can tell it’s used. They handcuff me, roll the door, toss the mat in my cell, shut it, then take the cuffs off. As they are walking away, I see it has 2 cell number written on it in black marker from the system wide shake down. I realize it was Jedidiah’s mattress. I feel strong emotions wash over me and I tear up. I take a minute to gather myself and put the mat on the bunk. I unpack, still thinking about what I’ve been through, and how grateful I am. Time passes, and I ask the officers about the bedding. They say, they can’t find any, so I’ll have to do without until the necessities officer gets here in the morning. I suck it up and I continue sorting through property bags. I do that, then I cry. I cry because I’m overwhelmed with gratitude, and guilt, with thoughts of God, my family, friends, all the people who prayed for me. I recall how I thought that their prayers would not be answered. My feelings have been all over the place today. As I sit, again I notice how cold it is in this cell. I remember feeling chilly earlier but now I’m cold. I begin looking for things to put on. I pull out a pair of pressure stockings for my legs. That will help keep my feet and legs warm, I put on my extra gym shorts, then tuck my T-shirt in. Get my jumpsuit roll it up to use for a pillow, add all the other clothing items I have to it, and then I turn on my radio and begin listening to it for a little while as I finish organizing my cell. Once settled into my bed, I pray, and because I have no sheets, I just tuck my arms in to the T-shirt to help keep myself warm. As I’m lying there, I recall a thought that had come to me some time after my return. I’m on borrowed time.
I go to sleep. I wake up a number of times throughout the night, cold, and a little disoriented. I use the bathroom and snap to where I am, remembering all that has happened. Then I go back to sleep again.
More to come….
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