Kurt Stevens's Blog, page 14

Chapter 6: Working the Ribs

I approached the Warden’s office. I could just barely see him through the thin window in his door. Albert Mendley, all five feet six inches of him, was arguing with the local law enforcement. The loudest was from a voice I knew well, Detective Tolliver. He had a voice like a drill sergeant after a tracheotomy, a different man than the one I had talked to the night before. He was all rasp and grumble, yelling every word at the top of his voice. He argued with the Warden about jurisdiction. The...

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Chapter 5: Almost Out

When I reached the front door of the LCI, I thought I was home free. It was 3:56 a.m. on a Sunday, the Lord’s day, and the door clicked open as the buzzer sounded. It had been a long shift (12 p.m. to 4 a.m., at the end of which a man named Oscar Reed Mort was pronounced dead by lethal injection.

The October morning made my skin prickle, but I was too numb to feel it. It had been a long seventeen hours since I’d received my late wake-up call at the hotel. I’d barely eaten. Witnessing Oscar Mor...

Chapter 4: A Marked Man

This is Chapter 4: A Marked Man. To start at the beginning click here, then use the arrow pointing to the right at the bottom of each chapter to progress through the novel.

I woke at 10:59 the next morning in a queen-sized bed at the Holiday Inn. Shielding my eyes from the blinding sunlight, I sat up and wondered what was real and if last night actually happened. The drowsiness evaporated too soon. My eyes twitched as they relived at lightning speed the bedlam of the night before. How did I ev...

Chapter 3: First Encounters

The cops called out, entered of their own accord, and found me sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, wrists dangling over my knees, head between my legs, and a small pile of vomit on the carpet below me.

A few minutes later the place was buzzing with law enforcement. I didn’t recognize any of them. A fat detective with a red mustache escorted me from the couch to the front step, I assume they wanted to search the house without me there and he wanted to ask me questions in the privacy of...

First Encounters

The cops called out, entered of their own accord, and found me sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, wrists dangling over my knees, head between my legs, and a small pile of vomit on the carpet below me.

A few minutes later the place was buzzing with law enforcement. I didn’t recognize any of them. A fat detective with a red mustache escorted me from the couch to the front step, I assume they wanted to search the house without me there and he wanted to ask me questions in the privacy of...

Chapter 2: Coming Home

People react to death in a lot of different ways. Watching the gallery of witnesses from behind the one-way glass of the executioner’s booth, I’ve seen fathers of victims pump their fists, but I’ve also seem them break down and cry. I’ve seen the wives of the executed scream in horror, but I’ve also seen them close their mouths and nod their heads, a long pent-up intensity evaporate and float away, their shoulders rolling toward the ground.

When I found my wife dead in the bathtub, I didn’t do...

Coming Home

People react to death in a lot of different ways. Watching the gallery of witnesses from behind the one-way glass of the executioner’s booth, I’ve seen fathers of victims pump their fists, but I’ve also seem them break down and cry. I’ve seen the wives of the executed scream in horror, but I’ve also seen them close their mouths and nod their heads, a long pent-up intensity evaporate and float away, their shoulders rolling toward the ground.

When I found my wife dead in the bathtub, I didn’t do...

Chapter 1: Land Line

Inside the small, windowless booth of the execution chamber, I was prepping the equipment and dosing the chemicals. We were hours away from the appointed time. The work normally takes fifteen minutes on a bad day, but I could barely concentrate. I was more nervous than the first time I’d performed an execution. My eyes were clouded with tears and my hands trembled as I filled the syringes and transferred the chemicals into canisters so they could disperse into the veins of the convicted. They...

Land Line

Inside the small, windowless booth of the execution chamber, I was prepping the equipment and dosing the chemicals. We were hours away from the appointed time. The work normally takes fifteen minutes on a bad day, but I could barely concentrate. I was more nervous than the first time I’d performed an execution. My eyes were clouded with tears and my hands trembled as I filled the syringes and transferred the chemicals into canisters so they could disperse into the veins of the convicted. They...