Nugent was not in the mood for nosy reporters. He hurriedly guided them through the open door. They stepped into a small room where two rows of folding chairs were waiting, facing an ominous panel of black drapes.
“Take a seat please,” he said rudely. He counted
eight reporters, one sheriff. Three seats were empty. “It is now eleven-ten,” he said dramatically. “The prisoner is in the Isolation Room. Before you here, on the other side of these curtains, is the Chamber Room. He will be brought in at five minutes before twelve, strapped in, the door locked. The curtains will be opened at exactly midnight, and when you see the chamber the prisoner will already be inside it, less than two feet from the windows. You will see only the back of his head. I didn’t design this, okay? It should take about ten minutes before he is pronounced dead, at which time the curtains will be closed and you’ll return to the vans. You’ll have a long wait, and I’m sorry this room has no air conditioning. When the curtains open, things will happen quickly. Any questions?”
“Have you talked to the prisoner?”
“Yes.”
“How’s he holding up?”
“I’m not getting into all that. A press conference is planned at one, and I’ll answer those questions then. Right now I’m busy.” Nugent left the witness room and slammed the door behind him. He walked quickly around the corner, and entered the Chamber Room.
______
“We have less than an hour. What would you like to talk about?” Sam asked.
“Oh, lots of things. Most of it unpleasant, though.”
“It’s kinda hard to have an enjoyable conversation at this point, you know.”
“What are you thinking right now, Sam? What’s going through your mind?”
“Everything.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“The smell of the gas. Whether or not it’s painful. I don’t want to suffer, Adam. I hope it’s quick. I want a big whiff of it, and maybe I’ll just float away. I’m not
afraid of death, Adam, but right now I’m afraid of dying. I just wish it was over. This waiting is cruel.”
“Are you ready?”
“My hard little heart is at peace. I’ve done some bad things, son, but I feel like God might give me a break. I certainly don’t deserve one.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the man who was with you?”
“It’s a long story. We don’t have much time.”
“It could’ve saved your life.”
“No, nobody would’ve believed it. Think about it. Twenty-three years later I suddenly change my story and blame it all on a mystery man. It would’ve been ridiculous.”
“Why’d you lie to me?”
“I have reasons.”
“To protect me?”
“That’s one of them.”
“He’s still out there, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s close by. In fact, he’s probably out front with all the other loonies right now. Just watching. You’d never see him, though.”
“He killed Dogan and his wife?”
“Yes.”
“And Dogan’s son?”
“Yes.”
“And Clovis Brazelton?”
“Probably. He’s a very talented killer, Adam. He’s deadly. He threatened me and Dogan during the first trial.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Not really. I wouldn’t tell you anyway. You can never breathe a word of this.”
“You’re dying for someone else’s crime.”
“No. I could’ve saved those little boys. And God
knows I’ve killed my share of people. I deserve this, Adam.”
“No one deserves this.”
“It’s far better than living. If they took me back to my cell right now and told me I’d stay there until I died, you know what I’d do?”
“What?”
“I’d kill myself.”
After spending the last hour in a cell, Adam couldn’t argue with this. He could not begin to comprehend the horror of living twenty-three hours a day in a tiny cage.
“I forgot my cigarettes,” Sam said, patting his shirt pocket. “I guess this is a good time to quit.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not working.”
“Did Lee ever show you the book with my lynching picture in it?”
“She didn’t show it to me. She told me where it was, and I found it.”
“You saw the picture.”
“Yes.”
“A regular party, wasn’t it?”
“Pretty sad.”
“Did you see the other picture of the lynching, one page over?”
“Yes. Two Kluckers.”
“With robes and hoods and masks.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
“That was me and Albert. I was hiding behind one of the masks.”
Adam’s senses were beyond the point of shock. The gruesome photograph flashed through his mind, and he tried to purge it. “Why are you telling me this, Sam?”
“Because it feels good. I’ve never admitted it before,
and there’s a certain relief in facing the truth. I feel better already.”
“I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Eddie never knew it. He found that book in the attic, and somehow figured out I was in the other party photo. But he didn’t know I was one of the Kluckers.”
“Let’s not talk about Eddie, okay?”
“Good idea. What about Lee?”
“I’m mad at Lee. She skipped out on us.”
“It would’ve been nice to see her, you know. That hurts. But I’m so glad Carmen came.”
Finally, a pleasant subject. “She’s a fine person,” Adam said.
“A great kid. I’m very proud of you, Adam, and of Carmen. Y’all got the good genes from your mother. I’m so lucky to have two wonderful grandchildren.”
Adam listened and didn’t try to respond. Something banged next door, and they both jumped.
“Nugent must be playing with his gadgets in there,” Sam said, his shoulders vibrating again. “You know what hurts?”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this, really flogging myself the last couple of days. I look at you, and I look at Carmen, and I see two bright young people with open minds and hearts. You don’t hate anybody. You’re tolerant and broad-minded, well educated, ambitious, going places without the baggage I was born with. And I look at you, my grandson, my flesh and blood, and I ask myself, Why didn’t I become something else? Something like you and Carmen? It’s hard to believe we’re actually related.”
“Come on, Sam. Don’t do this.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Please, Sam.”
“Okay, okay. Something pleasant.” His voice trailed
off and he leaned over. His head was low and hanging almost between his legs.
Adam wanted an in-depth conversation about the mysterious accomplice. He wanted to know it all—the real details of the bombing, the disappearance, how and why Sam got caught. He also wanted to know what might become of this guy, especially since he was out there, watching and waiting. But these questions would not be answered, so he let them pass. Sam would take many secrets to his grave.
______
The arrival of the governor’s helicopter created a stir along the front entrance of Parchman. It landed on the other side of the highway where another prison van waited. With a bodyguard on each elbow and Mona Stark racing behind, McAllister scampered into the van. “It’s the governor!” someone yelled. The hymns and prayers stopped momentarily. Cameras raced to film the van, which raced through the front gate and disappeared.
Minutes later, it stopped near the ambulance behind MSU. The bodyguards and Ms. Stark remained in the van. Nugent met the governor and escorted him into the witness room where he took a seat in the front row. He nodded at the other witnesses, all sweating profusely by now. The room was an oven. Black mosquitoes bounced along the walls. Nugent asked if there was anything he could fetch for the governor.
“Popcorn,” McAllister cracked, but no one laughed. Nugent frowned and left the room.
“Why are you here?” a reporter asked immediately.
“No comment,” McAllister said smugly.
The ten of them sat in silence, staring at the black drapes and anxiously checking their watches. The nervous chatter had ended. They avoided eye contact, as if
they were ashamed to be participants in such a macabre event.
Nugent stopped at the door of the gas chamber and consulted a checklist. It was eleven-forty. He told the doctor to enter the Isolation Room, then he stepped outside and gave the signal for the guards to be removed from the four towers around MSU. The odds of escaping gas injuring a tower guard after the execution were minuscule, but Nugent loved the details.
______
The knock on the door was faint indeed, but at the moment it sounded as if a sledgehammer were being used. It cracked through the silence, startling both Adam and Sam. The door opened. The young doctor stepped in, tried to smile, dropped to one knee, and asked Sam to unbutton his shirt. A round stethoscope was stuck to his pale skin, with a short wire left hanging to his belt.
The doctor’s hands shook. He said nothing.
Fifty-one
A
t eleven-thirty, Hez Kerry, Garner Goodman, John Bryan Glass, and two of his students stopped their idle talk and held hands around the cluttered table in Kerry’s office. Each offered a silent prayer for Sam Cayhall, then Hez voiced one for the group. They sat in their seats, deep in thought, deep in silence, and said another short one for Adam.
______
The end came quickly. The clock, sputtering and braking for the last twenty-four hours, suddenly roared ahead.
For a few minutes after the doctor left, they shared a light, nervous chatter as Sam walked twice across the small room, measuring it, then leaned on the wall opposite the bed. They talked about Chicago, and Kravitz & Bane, and Sam couldn’t imagine how three hundred lawyers existed in the same building. There was a jittery laugh or two, and a few tense smiles as they waited for the next dreaded knock.
It came at precisely eleven fifty-five. Three sharp raps, then a long pause. Nugent waited before barging in.
Adam immediately jumped to his feet. Sam took a deep breath, and clenched his jaws. He pointed a finger at Adam. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “You can walk in there with me, but you cannot stay.”
“I know. I don’t want to stay, Sam.”
“Good.” The crooked finger dropped, the jaws
slackened, the face sank. Sam reached forward and took Adam by the shoulders. Adam pulled him close and hugged him gently.
“Tell Lee I love her,” Sam said, his voice breaking. He pulled away slightly and looked Adam in the eyes. “Tell her I thought about her to the very end. And I’m not mad at her for not coming. I wouldn’t want to come here either if I didn’t have to.”
Adam’s head nodded quickly, and he struggled not to cry. Anything, Sam, anything.
“Say hello to your mom. I always liked her. Give my love to Carmen, she’s a great kid. I’m sorry about all this, Adam. It’s a terrible legacy for you guys to carry.”
“We’ll do fine, Sam.”
“I know you will. I’ll die a very proud man, son, because of you.”
“I’ll miss you,” Adam said, the tears now running down his cheeks.
The door opened and the colonel stepped in. “It’s time now, Sam,” he said sadly.
Sam faced him with a brave smile. “Let’s do it!” he said strongly. Nugent went first, then Sam, then Adam. They stepped into the Chamber Room, which was packed with people. Everyone stared at Sam, then immediately looked away. They were ashamed, thought Adam. Ashamed to be here taking part in this nasty little deed. They wouldn’t look at Adam.
Monday, the executioner, and his assistant were along the wall next to the chemical room. Two uniformed guards were crowded next to them. Lucas Mann and a deputy warden were near the door. The doctor was busy to the immediate right, adjusting his EKG and trying to appear calm.
And in the center of the room, now surrounded by the various participants, was the chamber, an octagonal-shaped tube with a gleaming fresh coat of silver
paint. Its door was open, the fateful wooden chair just waiting, a row of covered windows behind it.
The door to the outside of the room was open, but there was no draft. The room was like a sauna, everyone was drenched with sweat. The two guards took Sam and led him into the chamber. He counted the steps—only five of them from the door to the chamber—and suddenly he was inside, sitting, looking around the men to find Adam. The men’s hands moved rapidly.
Adam had stopped just inside the door. He leaned on the wall for strength, his knees spongy and weak. He stared at the people in the room, at the chamber, at the floor, the EKG. It was all so sanitary! The freshly painted walls. The sparkling concrete floors. The doctor with his machines. The clean, sterile little chamber with its glowing luster. The antiseptic smell from the chemical room. Everything so spotless and hygienic. It should’ve been a clinic where people went to get themselves healed.
What if I vomit on the floor, right here at the feet of the good doctor, what would that do for your disinfected little room, Nugent? How would the manual treat that, Nugent, if I just lost it right here in front of the chamber? Adam clutched his stomach.
Straps on Sam’s arms, two of them for each, then two more for the legs, over the shiny new Dickies, then the hideous head brace so he wouldn’t hurt himself when the gas hit. There now, all buckled down, and ready for the vapors. All neat and tidy, spotless and germ-free, no blood to be shed. Nothing to pollute this flawless, moral killing.
The guards backed out of the narrow door, proud of their work.
Adam looked at him sitting in there. Their eyes met, and for an instant Sam closed his.
The doctor was next. Nugent said something to him, but Adam couldn’t hear the words. He stepped inside and rigged the wire running from the stethoscope. He was quick with his work.
Lucas Mann stepped forward with a sheet of paper. He stood in the door of the chamber. “Sam, this is the death warrant. I’m required by law to read it to you.”
“Just hurry,” Sam grunted without opening his lips.
Lucas lifted the piece of paper, and read from it: “Pursuant to a verdict of guilty and a sentence of death returned against you by the Circuit Court of Washington County on February 14, 1981, you are hereby condemned to die by lethal gas in the gas chamber at the Mississippi State Penitentiary at Parchman. May God have mercy on your soul.” Lucas backed away, then reached for the first of two phones mounted on the wall. He called his office to see if there were any miraculous last minute delays. There were none. The second phone was a secured line to the Attorney General’s office in Jackson. Again, all systems were go. It was now thirty seconds after midnight, Wednesday, August 8. “No stays,” he said to Nugent.