[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----TENN., ARK., USA

[Rick Halperin]

November 2




TENNESSEE----execution

Tennessee inmate Edmund Zagorski executed by electric chair



Tennessee death row inmate and convicted double-murderer Edmund Zagorski has 
been executed.

The Tennessee Department of Corrections announced the news in a statement 
Thursday evening:

"The death sentence of Edmund Zagorski was executed by means of electrocution 
on November 1, 2018 in accordance with the laws of the state of Tennessee. The 
sentence was carried out at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in 
Nashville. Zagorski was pronounced dead at 7:26 p.m."

Zagorski's final words were "Let's rock," according to reporters who witnessed 
the execution.

In a news conference afterward, eyewitnesses say he either grimaced or grinned 
as a sponge was put over his head. The witness says the inmate raised up in his 
chair when each jolt of electricity went through him.

Witnesses say Zagorski was shocked twice before being pronounced dead at 7:26 
p.m. local time.

? Earlier, the U.S. Supreme Court denied a request to halt Zagorski's 
execution.

The court said in a statement Thursday evening that it would not block the 
state's plans to put to death the 63-year-old inmate at a Nashville prison.

Zagorski had asked the court take up his claim that it's unconstitutional to 
force him to choose between the electric chair and lethal injection. His 
attorney said Zagorski chose the chair thinking it would be quicker and less 
painful, but he maintains both methods are unconstitutional.

The court statement says Justice Sonia Sotomayor was the dissenting voice, 
noting Zagorski's decision to opt for the electric chair.

Says Sotomayor: "He did so not because he thought that it was a humane way to 
die, but because he thought that the 3-drug cocktail that Tennessee had planned 
to use was even worse. Given what most people think of the electric chair, it's 
hard to imagine a more striking testament - from a person with more at stake - 
to the legitimate fears raised by the lethal-injection drugs that Tennessee 
uses."

In opting for the electric chair over a lethal injection as Tennessee allowed 
him, Zagorski had argued it would be a quicker and less painful way to die. He 
became only the 2nd person to die in the electric chair in Tennessee since 
1960.

Nationwide, only 14 other people have been put to death in the electric chair 
since 2000, including a Virginia inmate in 2013.

Prosecutors say Zagorski shot John Dotson and Jimmy Porter and slit their 
throats in April 1983 after robbing them when they sought to buy marijuana from 
him.

Zagorski becomes the 2nd condemned inmate to be put to death this year in 
Tennessee and the 8th overall since the state resumed capital punishment in 
2000.

Zagorski becomes the 20th condemned inmate to be put to death this year in the 
USA and the 1, 485th overall since the nation resumed executions on January 17, 
1977.

The USA carried out 21 executions in 2017; there are 4 more possible/likely 
executions scheduled in the country this year.

(sources: WTVC news, Associated Press & Rick Halperin)

******************

Edmund Zagorski, who was on death row for 34 years, executed via electrocution



Edmund Zagorski, who was on death row for a 1984 double-murder, was executed 
via electric chair Thursday, Nov. 1 in Nashville.

Zagorski died 8:26 p.m. EST.

His last words were, "Let's rock."

Zagorski's attorney, public defender Kelly Henry, said during the 
post-execution press conference that in the days leading up to the execution, 
he told her he wanted to keep the mood light.

Henry said she held her hand over her heart as a signal to Zagorski that she 
was holding him in her heart. She also said that Zagorski wanted to see her 
smiling face before his death. Henry said she smiled for him.

Henry also told the media in the post-execution press conference that her 
client had shared some thoughts before being taken into the execution chamber:

"First of all, I want to make it very clear that I have no hard feelings," he 
said. "I don't want any of you to have this on your conscience. I am good."

Zagorski is only the 2nd person put to death by electrocution in Tennessee 
since 1960. Daryl Holton chose to die in the electric chair in 2007.

The execution was carried out after a legal battle that spanned a few weeks 
over Zagorski’s decision to use the electric chair instead of lethal injection.

The original execution date was set for Oct. 11, but a 10-day reprieve from 
Governor Haslam was given so that the Department of Corrections could make sure 
the electric chair was fully operational.

The 63-year-old man was on death row for 34 years, which was the 2nd longest in 
Tennessee.

He was sentenced in the killings of John Dotson and Jimmy Porter.

Prosecutors said Zagorski shot the men and slit their throats after robbing 
them in April 1983. The victims had planned to buy marijuana from Zagorski.

(source: WATE news)

*******************

Reporter's Notebook: Witness to an execution in the electric chair



Editor's note: Jason Lamb was one of five official media representatives to 
witness the 1st electrocution execution in the United States in 5 years.

"Let's Rock."

Those last words spoken by Edmund Zagorski came from his mouth while strapped 
into Tennessee's electric chair, the very device the U.S. Supreme Court just 
minutes earlier declined to stop the state from using.

It was one of the most surreal moments of my life, hearing him speak those 
words. He grinned and raised his eyebrows while he looked through the window 
towards us in the witness room, wearing a yellow shirt, white cotton trousers 
with a dark stripe down the side that said "TN DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTION."

We all knew what was about to happen: state-mandated execution of a kind that 
hadn't been carried out in Tennessee since 2007, and hadn't taken place in the 
United States since 2013. The time was 7:13 p.m.

My day at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution began several hours 
earlier. I had known for weeks that I would be a state-required media witness 
for this execution. I applied back in September through the standard process 
set forth by the Tennessee Department of Correction, for what I figured would 
be an execution by lethal injection, and my name was drawn a week or so later.

But then a sudden change: with the controversy surrounding the 3 chemicals 
Tennessee uses in its lethal injection protocol, Zagorski had decided he wanted 
to be executed by the electric chair instead. He had been convicted in 1984 for 
killing and slitting the throats of John Dale Dotson and Jimmy Porter during a 
bogus drug deal, and because Zagorski's death sentence came down before 1999, 
he was given the right to choose how he would die.

After doing a live shot for our 4 p.m. news, I walked into Riverbend’s front 
doors with the other media witnesses and Neysa Taylor, TDOC’s Director of 
Communications, and we passed through metal detectors and other screening 
devices. It was just after that when I noticed hanging near the security stand 
the framed picture of Tony Mays, the Riverbend prison warden who I knew would 
be giving the order in less than 2 hours to send 1,750 volts of electricity 
through Edmund Zagorski's body, fulfilling the sentence that 12 jurors agreed 
to more than 30 years earlier.

That's also when we were given a large Ziploc bag containing a white legal pad 
and 2 sharpened Staples brand yellow pencils. These would be the only tools we 
could use to record Zagorski's execution. No cell phones allowed. Not even 
watches allowed.

We were led out the main building through an outdoor passageway, passing 
through two locked chain link gates. We finally arrived at our 1st stop for the 
evening, through a door that read "Parole Board Room," where the group 
sometimes meets to determine parole eligibility for inmates. The 4 other media 
witnesses, Neysa and another escort sat down at the large wooden table in the 
room with 10 red office chairs surrounding it. This room, with its bright 
fluorescent light and white-painted cinder block walls would be our home for 
the next hour or so. I noticed a red box similar to a fire alarm pull station 
in the room, only this had a large red PANIC button in the middle of it. "Makes 
sense," I thought, inside the prison that houses the state's most violent 
offenders. Our group talked about all kinds of things over the hour inside the 
room: work, our favorite podcasts. We did not, however, talk much about what we 
were about to see, beyond discovering that none of us had ever been to an 
execution before; this would be a first time for all of us.

At one point, bottled water was brought in for us. We twice asked what time it 
was. 6:14. 6:41. We knew that the U.S. Supreme Court could still have issued a 
stay of execution, but no one in the room would ever know if it happened -- no 
phones, remember. Our only clue was what happened next.

Shortly before 7 p.m., we were told it was time to head to the next room.

We were escorted out of our holding room, through what appeared to be a common 
area for inmates during the day. I passed a sign that said "inmate restroom." 
Our escort led us through a dual set of locked jail doors, into the room where 
we would view the execution.

I thought I knew what the room would look like (I had seen video of it in our 
news archives, which we had aired in stories about Zagorski in the weeks 
prior), but I was surprised how small the room was when I was standing in it 
myself. By my estimation, it was only 15 or so feet wide -- if that -- with 15 
red chairs arranged in 3 rows of 5. I sat in the 1st row, and looked ahead at 
the panel of 4 rectangular windows -- altogether probably 7 feet wide and 3-4 
feet tall -- less than 2 feet in front of me. A large roll down blackout 
curtain was stretched over the entire window. A jail door was to the left of 
the windows, leading directly into the execution chamber. At this point, our 
escort turned the lights off in the room, but she kept the door open just a 
crack to let in some light, which I used to write on my notepad. A 
centimeter-wide crack at the bottom of the jail door also let in some light and 
sound from the execution chamber.

To my left, I saw an office phone installed on the wall. This would be the 
phone that Zagorski's attorney would use to contact the courts or other 
officials if she needed to before or during the execution. On the phone's LCD 
screen, there were 2 pre-programmed auto-dial buttons ready to go. They were 
labelled: "Death Watch Group" and "Central Control Emergency." More useful to 
the media witnesses at the moment, however, was the timestamp in the upper left 
corner of the screen: 7:00PM. We used that phone timestamp to note when the 
next steps took place.

At 7:05, according to that phone clock, I heard doors slamming in the distance, 
then a thud which seemed to come from inside the execution chamber. Then the 
sound of a door opening. Then was the sound of a faucet -- or plumbing -- 
running. More doors closing.

At 7:06, more doors opened outside our room. A man walked into the witness room 
and sat down in the back (I later learned this was a representative from the 
Attorney General's office). Then more noise: what could be the clanging of 
shackles or chains -- the blinds are still closed.

At 7:07, I hear a ratcheting sound of what I presume was handcuffs either going 
on or coming off. Throughout this whole time, I hear no voices from inside. 
More doors close outside our room. I still can’t hear voices inside the 
execution chamber, I can, however, hear the sound of the pencils belonging to 
the five media witnesses feverishly scratching on their notepads.

At 7:10, I hear an indistinct voice. They talked for about 2 seconds, but I 
couldn’t make it out. I hear a door inside the execution chamber close. More 
murmuring, then another door shuts.

At 7:12, we hear something -- they seem to be testing the microphones inside 
the execution chamber. Zagorski's attorney, Kelley Henry, who has been viewing 
more of the preparation process than we get to see, takes her seat to the right 
of me.

"Sound check," I hear in the speakers overhead.

"Loud and clear," says the guard in the room with us, communicating on her 
radio.

"Visitors in place," I hear.

Then, at 7:13, it happened.

The blinds into the execution chamber were raised, and there he was.

Edmund Zagorski was strapped into the electric chair. He looked different than 
his mug shots. All the hair from his head and face was freshly shaven, as is 
the TDOC protocol. Then I noticed what he was doing with his face.

"Grinned," I wrote down on my legal pad. "Nodded his head."

I noticed he kept raising his eyebrows as well, as he looked straight into the 
witness room through the window. Was he looking at us? Looking at me? We 
couldn't have been more than 20 feet from him.

Then Tony Mays, the Riverbend prison warden, dressed in a full suit, spoke:

"Mr. Zagorski do you have any last words at this time?"

Then came his response that I'll remember until my dying day: "Let's rock."

I knew what the next steps would be from reading TDOC's 88-page protocol manual 
for electric chair executions, but again, this played out differently when I 
saw it in person: the execution team began placing a giant, saltwater-soaked 
dark yellow natural sea sponge over his head (it's meant to help conduct 
electricity better), before placing the headpiece -- a copper-lined leather cap 
connected to a cord and power supply -- over his head. It was affixed with a 
chin strap that made the whole thing look somewhat like an old football helmet. 
Because the sponge was soaked in saltwater, much of the brine ran down his face 
as the execution team did their work. As a result, Zagorski, who continued to 
grin, began to grimace as well. He kept raising his eyebrows too, smiling.

This was the point where I felt most uncomfortable. I truly began to realize 
that we were only minutes -- perhaps seconds -- away from seeing this man's 
life end. I remember thinking this man wouldn't be alive in a matter of 
minutes. I thought, "Why did I ever agree to see this?"

That's when I looked over to my right, where Zagorski's attorney was sitting. I 
saw her smiling at her client who had been smiling at her. She was nodding 
while she smiled, and she was patting her heart with her hand.

The execution team wiped away the remaining saltwater from Zagorski's face and 
began pinning a large square black shroud over Zagorski's face. It looked to me 
to be made of some kind of rough cloth. It completely covered his face, well 
down past his chin. No one in the witness room would ever see his face again.

Zagorski's hands, resting on the armrests of the dark brown wooden electric 
chair appeared relaxed.

By now we didn't need to rely on the phone clock to check the time; a giant 
silver rectangle-shaped LED clock with black numbers was plainly visible inside 
the execution chamber.

At 7:15, Zagorski, covered by the mask, lifted his left hand up as much as he 
could while restrained by the straps, it looked like he was waving.

At 7:16, a member of the execution team plugged in a thick cord into the 
junction box at the bottom of the electric chair. Zagorski seemed to wave with 
his right hand.

Then an exhaust fan turned on inside the room. This is part of the TDOC 
protocol. I knew that. I also knew what was coming next, after Warden Mays gave 
the signal: taking his hand and wiping it down across his face.

The electrocution started. There was no loud noise, but I think fellow media 
witness Adam Tamburin with The Tennessean described it best when he said later 
it sounded like an elevator moving between floors. I saw Zagorski' arms raise 
up suddenly. His whole body tensed and jumped up all at once -- his hands 
clenched into fists. But that was it. He made no sound. He didn't jostle or 
move around at all, from what I could tell. He just looked like every muscle in 
his body was flexed.

Then the current was shut off. All by the book. Zagorski's body slumped down. I 
didn't see any movement.

15 seconds later came the 2nd round of current. His fists were still clenched, 
but this time he appeared to rise up even higher than before. 15 seconds later 
and it was done. Zagorski's body slumped back down again, with his left hand 
little finger coming to rest on the side of the armrest.

Then came the 5-minute waiting period -- again, all mandated in the protocol 
manual. Zagorski's body didn't move. It was clear that the 3 men inside the 
chamber -- the warden and 2 high-ranking prison officials -- had practiced this 
several times. They were all dressed in suits -- 2 of them had pocket squares, 
and during the execution and the 5 minutes after, they didn't move -- they 
stood in the same place, either looking straight in their direction or toward 
the ground.

After the 5 minutes were up, the warden pulled down the curtain and that was 
the last we saw from inside the room. We heard people still inside, talking 
quietly, and then at 7:26 came the announcement:

"That concludes the execution of inmate Edmund Zagorski. Time of death was 7:26 
p.m. Please exit at this time."

>From there it was quite a blur, we exited the room, I handed over my blue 
Riverbend visitors badge to a guard, and we all left to answer questions from 
the reporters waiting outside.

I had done a lot of research before going into the witness room Thursday. I 
read accounts of botched electrocutions in other states where blood was seen 
spilling from an inmates mask or flames shot out from another's head, along 
with legal filings saying Zagorski's organs would be cooked and his skin would 
be burned from his skull. We have yet to learn what true effects the 
electrocution had on Zagorski's body. We may never know whether he suffered. 
And the debate will continue about whether the electric chair is cruel and 
unusual punishment. But I was surprised that what I saw, in my opinion, didn't 
rise to the level of violence that I had expected with the electric chair.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions about the death penalty in general 
or the electric chair in particular. As a journalist, my opinions will remain 
with me. I signed up to view this execution because of the important duty that 
journalists had yesterday: in a state where the death penalty is the law of the 
land, 5 of us (and the countless other journalists who reported on the story) 
were there to act as eyes for the public, to ensure that the state carried out 
the execution in the manner they said they would. That is an important -- if at 
times uncomfortable -- role.

As for me, as I write this early Friday morning, I'm ok. I'm sure I'll be 
processing a lot of what I saw for days and months to come, maybe longer. I 
don't know yet if I'd ever want to witness another execution again, but I'm 
grateful for the experience and the perspective that can come from a day that 
few will ever see.

(source: WTVF news)








ARKANSAS:

Arkansas Supreme Court strikes down mental competency section of state's death 
penalty



The Supreme Court of Arkansas struck down a section of its death penalty 
statute on Thursday, holding that it violated appellant Bruce Ward’s right to 
due process and equal protection under the US and Arkansas constitutions.

Ward was tried and convicted of capital murder in 1990 and sentenced to death. 
He was scheduled to be killed by lethal injection in April 2017 but appealed to 
the state Supreme Court on the grounds that he was not mentally competent to 
face capital punishment and that the section of the Arkansas code that allowed 
for the assessment of his mental fitness to be executed was unconstitutional. 
Ward argued that the Arkansas statute, which was "devoid of any procedure by 
which a death-row inmate has an opportunity to make an initial substantial 
threshold showing of insanity," allowed the Arkansas penal system to execute 
him unfairly. In a split decision, the Supreme Court agreed with the appellant.

Writing for the majority, Chief Justice John Kemp looked primarily at prior 
court rulings to evaluate the constitutionality of Arkansas' mental competency 
statute. In particular, he cited the US Supreme Court's decisions in Ford v. 
Wainwright, establishing that it was unconstitutional to execute a mentally 
incompetent defendant, and Panetti v. Quarterman, holding that a defendant had 
a right to a court assessment of their mental capacity following a death 
penalty conviction, in arriving at his decision. Kemp stated that "the language 
of section 16-90-506(d)(1)(A) [does not] provide for an evidentiary hearing 
that comports with the fundamental principles of due process" as established by 
Ford and Panetti, and the law was therefore unconstitutional.

While the ruling narrowly applies only to insanity defenses for Arkansas' death 
penalty, it comes during a period of heavy review of capital punishment in the 
US. In October Washington state struck down its death penalty, while New 
Hampshire attempted unsuccessfully to repeal its capital punishment law in 
June.

(source: jurist.org)








USA:

Prosecutors Seek Death Penalty for Killer of Mail Carrier



Justice Department lawyers at an Oct. 31 hearing rejected a plea offer from a 
man accused of killing and burning the body of a mail carrier.

James Wayne Ham is on trial in a Houston court for the 2013 killing of 
52-year-old postal carrier Eddie "Marie" Youngblood.

Youngblood was working her rural route in Coldspring, Texas, about 60 miles 
north of Houston on May 17, 2013 when she was allegedly confronted by James 
Ham.

Youngblood was sitting in the Jeep Cherokee she used to deliver mail, talking 
on the phone with her youngest son, Postal News reported.

Ham fired a 30/30 rifle at Youngblood from close range, striking her several 
times in the chest, while Youngblood’s youngest son listened to her pleading 
for her life.

According to Polk County Today, Youngblood's son hung up and called 911.

Ham then got into the Jeep and drove to a secluded area, where he ignited the 
vehicle, which still contained Youngblood's body. He also burned the clothes he 
was wearing, hoping to destroy any evidence.

San Jacinto County Firefighters followed the smoke plume and put out the fire, 
only to find Youngblood's body inside the car.

Ham became a suspect because he had complained about Youngblood not delivering 
his mail properly. For some reason, Ham thought that Youngblood was conspiring 
with his ex-wife to divert his mail to her, the Houston Chronicle reported.

Family Wants the Death Penalty

Ham has repeatedly offered to accept a guilty plea if the prosecution would 
give him a life sentence. However, the prosecution has repeatedly stressed that 
Ham has committed a capital offense and must be punished accordingly.

U.S. District Judge Lynn N. Hughes asked Assistant U.S. Attorney Sharad S. 
Khandelwal why the prosecution was so determined to seek the death penalty, 
especially since the trial had already taken so long and cost so much, and 
since Ham would be jailed for life if the prosecution accepted his plea.

"It's not your money, it's everybody else's money," the judge said, according 
to the Houston Chronicle. "Either way he's incapacitated. He'll either be dead 
or in prison."

"To the United States, this is not a question of money but of justice," 
Khandelwal said.

Khandelwal said that Ham had bragged about killing Youngblood while making 
calls from jail before his trial. He showed no signs of remorse.

Eddie Youngblood's surviving family - her husband, 2 sons, and daughter-in-law 
- attended the hearing. They all want Ham to face death.

Youngblood's sons, Mark Youngblood, 33, and his brother George Youngblood Jr., 
36, are both postal carriers. Mark was on the phone with his mother at the time 
of the alleged murder.

"It completely changed my life," he told the court, according to the Chronicle. 
"I want justice."

A History of Depraved Violence

The government is apparently seeking the death penalty both to set a precedent 
for killing federal workers and because Ham had shown himself to be a violent, 
destructive man with no compassion for others.

United States Attorney Kenneth Magidson, speaking just days after the killing, 
said "The safety of our workforce and, ultimately, the surrounding communities 
is of paramount concern to me and this office," Polk County Today reported.

"The killing of a Postal Service worker in the course of his/her official 
duties is a crime that affects us all.

"Anyone who is believed to have committed a crime against an employee of the 
United States will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

In court filings, the prosecution argued that Ham should receive the death 
penalty because of his record, the Houston Chronicle reported.

The prosecution pointed out that Ham had previously been prosecuted for raping 
a female relative and for sexually assaulting a woman he met in a bar.

Ham had threatened to kill his wife, the one with whom he believed Youngblood 
was colluding with to steal his mail. He had shot and killed his wife's goats, 
shot at a pair of dogs that belonged to another family, and stolen firearms.

The filing further noted that Ham had "a propensity to set things on fire when 
he feels he has been wronged."

According to court records, Ham had set puppies on fire, started a blaze in a 
national forest, and torched a mobile home.

Ham's defense lawyers said they would need 2 more years to prepare their case. 
The prosecution asked for a date in February 2019. Judge Hughes said he would 
consider both propositions and would probably decide on a trial date by the end 
of November.

(source: theepochtimes.com)