The Land Lord an introspection by Gary Gilmore Feeling a backoning wind blow thru The chambers of my soul I knew It was time I entered in
I climbed within and stared about — I was home indeed my very seed A mirror of me reflecting myself From every curve and line and shelf Every surface there Every texture bare Every color tone and value Each sound Pride Hate Vanity
Sloth Waste Insanity Lust Envy Want Ignorance black and green
I felt myself at every turning Set my very mind to burning Face to face no way to dodge Headlong I tumbled thru this lodge I felt and met alone myself
A red scream rushed forth But I caught it back and checked its force
It crescendoed into a hopeless heavy weight in the blood and fell…
A beat of wing I felt and heard
Not at all like any bird
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Overhead I saw myself contorted black and brown and twisted mean —borne aloft by a gray bat wing — growing from my shoulders there…
One thing was peculiar clear
There was no scorn to menace here
This is just the way it is
Laid bare to the bone
And I built this house I alone
I am the Land Lord here
The Holiday Season
PENITENTIAL DAYS
One of the jurors from Gary’s trial wrote a letter to the Provo Herald.
The Utah Supreme Court hadn’t found any error, he said, so why had
Gilmore’s case gone to the U.S. Supreme Court?
Judge Bullock started to think about the juror. From the tenor of his letter, Bullock got the impression that some Jury members were wondering if they had done their job properly. There had been so many appeals. The Judge thought: “I’m going to ask that Jury to come back in. Maybe I’m sacking my neck out, but I want to explain the legal procedures.”
He had his clerk make each contact. Didn’t want the jurors to feel there was pressure from Judge J. Robert Bullock himself, so the clerk merely announced that the Judge, strictly unofficially, would be willing to meet with them and go over any legal questions they might have. Every juror accepted. They all came in.
He met them in Court when nobody was around one evening, and put them in the Jury box. He sat down in front, and explained the right of appeal, and how this case was likely to go on for several more years. In fact, it would be unusual if it was brought to conclu sion in less time. He pointed out thatkpeople had a right to go to Court to fight for legal principles in which they believed, and said the law on capital punishment had not been settled. People hadn’t been executed since I967, so it was highly appropriate that delays take
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place. But he wanted the Jury to understand that they had not done their part of the job incorrectly.
There was the sore spot. Judge Bullock told them that their verdict could not be impeached under any circumstances. “I,” he said, “could have made errors in telling you what the law is, but you have not made errors. You have done your job.” He could feel these words helped them. They now felt better about it all.
He also repeated it might take a few years, and said, “That’s the way it is, let’s not fight the system.” To his surprise, shortly after this meeting the Supreme Court lifted their Stay. In consequence, Gilmore was now scheduled to be brought back to his Court for resentencing on December I5. Judge Bullock had to start agonizing again.
He knew Judges who were ready to take their own lives before they would pronounce the death sentence. Judge Bullock didn’t see himself as a conscientious objector, but he still didn’t like capital punishment.
Before Gilmore, he had never even had a capital case. He had tried all kinds of second degree, five years to life, but never Murder One. It proved harder than he expected. The Jury had found Gilmore guilty, so he had only had to express the sentence. Yet, on that October day, he shook within, he agonized. Outwardly, Judge Bullock hoped he maintained composure and dignity. Inside, he felt more emotion than he would ever have expected.
Now, he’d have to sentence him once more. It would be the same sentence, but a different date. He would nonetheless have to utter the words. That tearing and churning at the pit of the stomach, that long emotional drain over a few words, would begin again. And all the public clamor. If the guy wants to die, give it to him right now.
No, said Bullock to himself, I will not rush it. The processes have to be followed. Those who will want to appeal are entitled to have the time to go to Court properly.
When he heard therefore that Moody and Stanger, on Gilmore’s instructions, would move for an early date, he did not feel disposed toward the idea.
Coming down the courthouse corridor, Gilmore looked like a man coming in with hope. To Schiller’s eye, Gary didn’t seem nearly so frail as during the hunger strike. He might be just two days off his fast, but he was carrying himself well. Had a little cadence to his walk, as if even with the shackles, he could take small, prancing steps that were a little faster, a little more stylish, than the plodding pace of the guards next to him. Something nice about the way he moved, as if hearing an inner beat.
Of course, Schiller knew the reason. This morning, Gary was expecting to talk to Nicole. Bob Moody had filled Larry in on what he hoped to pull off in the courthouse today. He and Stanger intended to get their client back to Bullock’s empty chambers, and from there ring up the hospital on the Judge’s phone, and ask to speak to Sundberg. Ken would then pass the phone on to Nicole.
Bringing off the phone call had become a commitment for Bob Moody. The first time he ever laid eyes on Gilmore had happened to be outside this same courtroom when the Bushnell case was being tried. On that day, Bob had seen Nicole rush up to embrace Gary, and some special intensity in the demonstration of affection had stirred Moody to say to himself, “There’s one girl immensely in love.”
It wasn’t uncommon in Moody’s experience that when a young criminal was taken out of Court — especially if he was good looking and had one of these macho mustaches-that a young woman would come running up to kiss him. In fact, such embraces usually went on for quite a while. This one, however, between Gilmore and his girl, must have been the longest and most passionate Bob ever saw. It went over the edge of decorum. He had to wonder a little about people who felt that strongly.
Moody might be fairly high in the Church, but saw himself as something of a liberal. From time to tame, he liked, for instance, to contemplate such problems as why it was that good-looking girls like this always seemed to go for criminals. He knew his own experience wouldn’t provide the answer. He placed himself as one of those stead
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fast fellows whose biggest problem in life had been whether to become a dentist, a businessman, or a lawyer. Now, he and his wife had five children, which made for a different relation than you were going to see in a courthouse corridor,
Still, the memory of that first time he laid eyes on Gilmore always gave flavor to what Gary said about Nicole. It provided Moody with a bit of sympathy for what others might have seen as an out-iandish desire to reach the girl at all costs. So Moody had been going to some ends to bring it off.
When they got down the hall today, however, they were put in a room without a phone. Their plan was simply wiped out. Gary had to step into Court on a full head of frustration. Schiller could see that even his body was starting to tighten. He had begun to flick his eyes back and forth, and was almost reptilian. Looked like he was planning where to strike.
Gary whispered, “The Judge looks like Phil Silvers.” “Who?” Moody whispered back. “Sergeant Bilko.”
Something to it. Same horn-rimmed eyeglasses, bald top, somewhat pendulous nose, same halfway pleasant expression. If Gary was getting contemptuous of the Judge, however, it meant Gary thought he was licked.
Then Wootton took over. The 3o/6o statute, he argued, could now be measured from today, December 5, which would place the earliest date of execution at January 5. It was not healthy, legally speaking, he said, to ram through an execution. Bullock kept nodding.
Schiller could see Gary give a look like everyone around him was scum. Damned if he didn’t use his turn to say that nobody here had guts enough to let him die. All’ they were doing was jacking him around. The way he said “jacking” was obscene. It sent a ripple through the room.
PENITENTIAL DAYS
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Bullock ignored the remark. How could you sentence a man to Contempt when he was already bound over to execution?
“Unless this is a joke,” said Gilmore, “I expect…” and he went on to say that he expected his sentence to take place in the next few days. “I’m serious about wanting to end my life,” said Gilmore. ‘The least justice can do is to recognize that.”
Bullock set the date for January 7. “We’re not here,” said the Judge, “to accommodate you.”
After Court, Gilmore happened to pass Wootton in the corridor. He took the opportunity to say, “Why don’t you suck my cock, you motherfucker?” Wootton didn’t reply.
Now that they had a full month before the execution, Schiller had a time-line long enough to sell the letters, sO, after Court, he invited Veto and Bob and Ron out to lunch. Even asked them to pick a good restaurant. Since there was nothing around Orem or Provo that qualified, they ended up in some big Bavarian place in the foothills of Salt Lake City, and had to wait for a quiet corner table while a lot of businessmen were talking away at the top of their lungs. Schiller, however, wanted the right situation for this talk.
Since he figured he would have to sell Moody on the proposal more than Stanger, he put Ron to his right and Moody across. Thereby he could look directly into Bob’s eyes while making his pitch. Over food, he got into it all, really laid it on the line. He told them that he wanted to sell some of the letters in Europe for publication shortly before the execution, but could conceal the transactions in such a way that nobody would ever know who made the sale. The letters, after all, had been printed already in the Deseret News. There had to be at least one set of Xeroxes floating around.
He couldn’t pretend, he said, not to be concerned by Gary’s reaction. The shit, Schiller assured them, would certainly hit the fan if Gary found out. Still, it wasn’t going to hurt the man. Gary was more
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sympathetic in his letters than any other presentation he gave of him self. Moreover, his privacy had already been breached. The lines Tamera had quoted in the Deseret News had been syndicated across half of the world. Schiller said he would repeat what he had told them at the beginning: there were going to be a lot of things they might not like, but he would always lay it out. He would not work behind their backs.
A lot of discussion went on. Schiller felt the lawyers were sur prised he was this open. As he’d expected, Moody was relatively against the project, and discussed with Stanger what the public ef fect might be if it all came out. They certainly didn’t want to be tagged with Boaz’s posture. Schiller kept repeating that if the letters they held weren’t published, foreign papers would buy from other sources. Somebody was going to make money on Gary Gilmore.
Schiller could see that Vern was being tom right down the middle. Subconsciously, he estimated, Vern wanted the money, but never did say, “I have to discuss this with Gary.” It was ripping him up, however. He didn’t talk, and went deep into himself. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly so much as troubled. Still, Schiller decided, Vern was going to go for the money.
Finally Larry convinced them by saying “I could make a sale in Germany or Japan, and you’d never know a thing. Nobody could ever point to me as the man who sold them.” It was the subtlest kind of threat. After all, they knew he had six Xeroxes. How could they be certain he had not made seven? They never gave any hard fully ac knowledged consent, but from that moment he had the go-ahead.
After lunch, when Ron Stanger saw Gary again at the prison, it was like talking to steel. Worse than the pits of the hunger strike. Gary was as cold and hard and icy fevered as Ron had ever seen him. It burned your eyes to look into his rage. Man, Gary was triggered. Call it possessed.
On the drive back, Ron tried to make a joke of it. “Christ,” he an nounced to Moody, “it was like a horror film. I could almost see his teeth getting longer.”
DESERET NEWS
Gilmore Attempts Suicide Again
Salt Lake, December x6-Convicted murderer Gary Mark Gilmore was in a coma at the University Medical Center today after another suicide attempt.
Gilmore, frustrated in his efforts for a quick execu tion, was in critical condition.
He entered the hospital at IO:2O n.M., after being found unconscious in his prison cell at 8:I5 n.M ….
The second time, Gilmore really tried to do it. That was Dr. Christensen’s opinion. Gilmore had taken phenobarbital at a 6. milligrams per cent level. Any phenobarb greater than I o milligrams per cent proved fatal for more than half the people who tried it. Gil more had been well into the lethal range.
This time, when he came out of it, he wasn’t obscene. One of the nurses even commented, “Gee, he seems a little nice.” In fact, he acted subdued. There was a difference. There really was.
Stanger got to the hospital as soon as he heard the news, and ran into a bizarre episode. An old friend who had shared an office with Ron in Spanish Fork years ago, an optometrist named Ken Dutson, was now dying in the same emergency room where they were work ing on Gary. Stanger practically bumped into Dutson’s wife and fam ily. They were really upset. As soon as Gary was brought in, the hos pital gave their main attention to him. Stanger was sure poor Dutson had reached the point where he couldn’t be kept alive, but you could hardly expect his family to be happy that a killer was rushed in, and all of a sudden, personnel were swarming around that case.