Inmates » Charles Hood - death letters
Charles Hood - death letters
In 1990, Charles Dean Hood was convicted of murder and sentenced to die. Twelve years later he began writing to senior editor Michael Hall. Here, in three of his letters, he describes in extraordinary detail his two decades spent awaiting execution and reveals what it’s like to be taken to Huntsville for the lethal injection only to receive a stay at the last possible minute—not once, but twice.
On September 10, Charles Dean Hood will be executed. Or not. Hood,
who was sentenced to death in 1990, has cheated the executioner five
times now, in 1994, in 1999, in 2005, and twice on his most recent
date, June 17, which turned out to be one of the most dramatic
execution days in Texas history.
He received his first stay that day in the late afternoon from a
trial judge, but the van taking him back to death row was detained
after prosecutors submitted an appeal. Over the next six hours those
prosecutors battled with frantic defense attorneys, while state and
federal judges tried to sort out the mess. In the end, as the clock
approached midnight, the state gave up trying to put Hood to death
for fear it would not be able to carry out the process in time (his
death warrant was to expire at 12:00 a.m.). On September 10, the
executioner will get another chance.
Hood was convicted in 1990 of murdering Tracie Lynn Wallace and Ron
Williamson in Plano on November 1, 1989. It was a grisly crime. Hood
had been a housemate of the couple’s, and on that day, Williamson
came home for lunch and found a note from Wallace saying she had gone
for a walk. But the note was signed “Tracy” rather than “Tracie.” And
Williamson’s safe was open. Williamson called 911 and told the
operator that he feared Wallace had been abducted. “There’s a lot of
things that just don’t add up,” he said. He was heard talking to
another man in the background, a man later confirmed to be Hood. When
police showed up four minutes later, they discovered Williamson shot
through the head and Wallace wrapped in two garbage bags and stuffed
in a water heater closet (she had also been shot in the head). Hood
was gone, and Williamson’s watch and some jewelry were missing.
Hood’s fingerprints were found on the note and the garbage bags. He
had also left bloody prints on a weight machine jammed against the
door to the water heater closet. The next day he was arrested in
Vincennes, Indiana, driving Williamson’s Cadillac. He was wearing
Williamson's watch and had Williamson's credit cards, which he had
used to send several dozen roses—to his mother, to a girlfriend, and
to the girlfriend’s co-workers. He had also pawned a ring of
Williamson’s in Lewisville, Texas, and cashed a payroll check from
Williamson’s software company, MicroSpec.
The following September Hood was found guilty of capital murder. His
attorneys presented evidence they hoped would persuade the jury to
spare his life—Hood was severely physically abused as a child, never
finished high school, and had an IQ of 89—but to no avail. Hood was
sentenced to die and hustled off to death row, which at the time was
housed at the Ellis Unit, near Huntsville. Nine years later he and
his fellow death row inmates were moved to a modern prison facility
near Livingston called the Terrell Unit (later renamed the Polunsky
Unit).
Hood started writing to me in 2002 after I published a story on
another death row inmate named Ernest Willis, who was wrongly
convicted of murder in 1987 and eventually walked free as an innocent
man. Willis had become such an important figure in Hood’s life that
the younger inmate had started calling him Pop.
Like most prisoners who write letters, Hood claimed to be innocent,
though from all I read and saw, his case seemed pretty clear-cut, one
that the state had gotten right. At least I thought so until 2005,
when the online magazine Salon published a story about Hood’s trial
that quoted named and unnamed sources alleging that the judge, Verla
Sue Holland, and the prosecutor, Tom O’Connell, had been having an
affair. If this were true, it would, of course, be prima facie
evidence of an unfair trial. What’s more, from 1997 to 2001, Holland
had served on the Court of Criminal Appeals, the court before which
Hood’s appeals had been argued. I visited Hood, read the trial
transcript looking for evidence of favoritism toward O’Connell, and
tried to find someone who could back up Salon’s allegations. I
couldn’t and finally let the matter go.
I didn’t hear from Hood again until this past April, when he wrote to
say that he had gotten another execution date. He wanted my help. I
didn’t think there was much to say about his case, but I did propose
that he write to me about what life was like on the most infamous
death row in America. Hood is only 39 and has spent nearly half his
life there—the first nine years at the old Ellis Unit, where men were
allowed contact with one another, and the last nine at the Polunsky
Unit, where they are kept in isolation. What was it all like? He
agreed to tell me and began sending letters. The first one detailed
his time at Ellis, the second his time at Polunsky.
Then came June 17. I had asked to be put on the media witness list
for Hood’s execution. That Tuesday wound up being a day of firsts in
Texas death penalty history: the first time a trial judge recalled a
death warrant and then recused himself from the case. The first time
a doomed man was put in the antechamber of his own death twice in a
six-hour span. The first time the prison system called off an
execution because it couldn’t get the job done before midnight. As
spectacle, it was stunning. As punishment, it was cruel—for Hood, for
his family, for the family of the victims—and even for Texas, it was
unusual.
When Hood got back to death row, he wrote about that too. MICHAEL HALL
With Hood's permission, his letters have been edited. Some of the
grammar and spelling have been corrected for readability.1
Editorial notes can be found at the end of the story.
JUNE 12/08
Dear Mike,
How are you doing? Here’s the Ellis Unit part. Will have Polunsky
article done and mailed out Monday morning. Hope you print more than
85% of what I send you. Take care and keep the faith, brother. “God
Bless You.”
Respectfully,
Charles
LIFE ON THE ROW: ELLIS UNIT
Driving up in the van you could tell Ellis Unit was an old
penitentiary. I noticed a huge gate, and it opened, and the officers
at the back of the gate stared at me. Then these two big officers
open the van and ask me if I was Mr. Hood. I replied yes. I was in
leg irons (shackles) and a chain around my waist with my cuffed hands
attached to it.
I was taken to the captain’s office, where Captain West and Sergeant
Roach discussed the unit’s rules, handed me a Rules Book and other
items, shaving brush and cup, toothbrush, mirror, bowls. After being
briefed on everything I was escorted down to G-15 Wing. One thing I
noticed right off the bat, the extreme loud noise coming off the
wings. I was escorted up a staircase of three flights and when I got
to the top, you could see mirrors pointed out just about every cell
and you could see eyes looking at you. Some men saying, “new guy on
the wing,” some expressing, “fresh meat,” just all the shenanigans
that goes on. I got to 16 cell, the door slid open and slammed up
against the bars. A guard walked in and pulled the light switch. A
gloomy orange light appeared, and I entered the cell. The door
slammed behind me.
I was trying to get my thoughts straight, and checking out the cell.
I saw writing all over the walls. I noticed one phrase saying the
following: “This place can either Make you Or Break you.” The
mattress was a wore out thin piece of sad looking thing and gray. I
laid there looking up to the TV that was out on the run and drifted
off to sleep.2 I was awakened by a guard hitting the door to ask me
if I was gonna eat chow (dinner). I got the tray, and I noticed a big
pork chop on it with all the basic vegetables (prison grown). I ate
what was eatable and it tasted alright for me.
The SSI3 came up with a few notes (“kite,” we say in prison). One
from old man Willis, asking my name and if I needed anything. Next
thing I knew a sack of stuff came to me by both men. Stamps, writing
material, toothpaste, a few stacks, cause they knew it would be some
time before I would be able to go to the commissary.
When it came time for Three Row to go out the next day, I took part
in this daily ritual. Not knowing what to expect, you just prepare
yourself the best possible way. We’ve all seen movies on prison, how
you got to stick up for yourself or fall prey to the bullies. So I
was ready for anything, yet all that was shown towards me was an
extended hand to shake as a greeting of friendship. And I got to meet
some really good people. The same that society condemned not fit to
make it in society.
I lived on G-25 for just a few weeks, and got moved to J-21, which is
considered hell on death row (“The Dungeon”). I had gotten written up
(failure to groom infraction) for not shaving, which wasn’t my fault.
Going down to J-21 Wing was like something out of the movies. My
first night was a hellish experience. It was hot, noisy, and complete
chaos. I was escorted behind a shield on wheels you had to walk
behind every time you went down the run. You could smell fecal
matter. The vents in your cell just sucked it straight to your cell.
And you could actually see shit on the run. As night fell, you could
see rats running up and down the run. I just set there on the (bunk)
bed and watched them come out of the rusted pipes. I couldn’t believe
it, there wasn’t nothing shy about them. They walked around,
scrounged for food. Donny4 said don’t let your covers touch the
floor, they’ll crawl up your covers. That entire night I just watched
to see if any came into my cell.
Max5 and Cosmos6 actually had rats for pets. I asked them how in the
heck they did that. Max told me he would catch the Momma rats and
just hold them until they gave birth, and he would raise the babies.
You had guys who even had birds for pets. One guy, they called him
Birdman,7 he would find a nest up at the top of a window or a fence
and just get him a baby bird. And raised it like a child.
After I got off J-21, I decided to go to the work program. I started
out in the garment factory. You work to put together officers’
clothing. I worked on a button machine until I started working with
laying out of the material. I met my best friend, Troy Dale Farris.8
We had so much in common. We both had 4x4 vehicles, we hunted with
our brother, we were wild, you name it. The only thing I didn’t like
was he was a Dallas Cowboys fan and I a New York Giants fan. I
remember going to the dayroom on Sundays to catch the Nascar races.
We went to church together.9 We looked out for each other.
I decided to also go to school to get my GED. School was offered to
us, until some public officials complained about death row inmates
getting a free ride. You know you’re placed on death row to die. But
some convicts call it Life Row, and you can understand this term,
because you actually don’t know if you’re gonna be executed or live
many years on the row.
There’s some things you see or experience that’s just unacceptable. I
knew of a retarded guy who got raped and no one went to his aid. I
never met a homosexual until I came to death row. The first guy was
Slim.10 He had a feminine way about himself, and I became friends
with him. He knew I don’t swing in that fashion, so he kept
refraining to ask me. Many guys had girls (prison punks). I guess
someone to cling to for all different reasons other than sex. For
whatever reason I met some good guys whose life were in that way.
There are a lot of men on death row who shouldn’t be there. A lot of
young guys (kids) come to Texas death row because they made a
mistake, not some awful, evil person who would continue to break the
law. In all my years on the row, I’ve only seen a few fights, nothing
that got out of hand, just an argument that ended up throwing down on
each other. When you got a lot of men together, who are stressed out,
who could’ve gotten a bad letter. Wife, girlfriend leaving them. Only
one man I saw get killed on the row. I’ve seen officers jumped on
more than prisoners fighting it out. It’s all about respect and
manhood back here. And a lot of the guards force an inmate in a
situation that if they don’t act back, their homeboys think dude, you
let that guard talk to you that way, he punked you. I’ve seen two
groups of officers, the ones who do their job and don’t treat you
like shit, and ones who think they need to prove something. You keep
jabbing at a person who society condemns as a criminal, well what
happens? The person or animal bites back.
I got to know Pop, as I call him, old man Willis,11 when I went back
to G-15. I got tired of the work program and needed to get focused on
my case again. I called him Pop because he really cared for me,
treated me like a son.
I started drawing, to occupy my time, building jewelry boxes, clocks,
you name it, I did it.12 You needed something to take up your time.
Time goes by so slow on the row. You wait for mail call in the
evening because it’s the best part of the day, and if you don’t get
any then you get down & out. At Ellis you were allowed to have a
celly, and it really did help the time to go by. You are a bit
worried at first, because you know for some reason another guy is on
death row so you don’t want him to act crazy on you and things get
out of whack. I was in the cell with several people over the years @
Ellis. Bobby13 came up for the program and they placed him in the
cell I was in. We lived together for some time. A lot of bathroom
humor went on. We would purposely eat a can or two of beans to fart
to get a good laugh. It’s hard to find laughter on a daily basis on
the row.
So! One thing I know is you must have something to hang on to. I’ve
met some really wonderful people and some beautiful women over the
years here on the row. You get some who you can go down the romance
road with. You are a man, so you do miss being with a lady. So you
talk sex with them. You used to be able to get nude photos to assist
in your cravings, etc. There was even the opportunity to hook up with
an officer (female). Many guys have had the opportunity to get some
ass. It was that wide open over there. I remember even one getting
pregnant. I remember me and my friend Chucky14 would hold jiggers
(watch out for each other) when one would like to get some. Some of
the ladies were even selling it if you had the money.15
Another thing that we used to have at Ellis was sports tournaments,
and we used to get ribbons for 1st, 2nd, & 3rd prizes, however we
also would chip in different items. I remember Big George, A.K.A.
“New York,”16 Me, and Paul17 and Bob18 winning the basketball
tournament. It was so cool. The odds were clearly against us, but we
won, and till this day Big George and I reminisce about it. It was
like winning the NBA Finals.
You have some really good times on the row and you have the down and
out ones. I’ve lost so many good friends. Chi-town (Richard
Cartwright),19 a guy from Chicago, was considered a dang good friend.
I even got to know his mother. You spend so much time on the row you
actually grow up with guys. You can tell when someone gets a bad
letter or something is wrong because you’ve been around them so long.
A lot of them become like family.
I wished we were still over at the Ellis Unit, but since the Death
Row Seven tried to escape in November of 1998, everything went
downhill. Over the years at different times men had escaped, but
always got caught before they got over the fence. Once one got over
the fence, that was it. They started shipping death row over in 1999.
On March 2, 2000, I was told to pack up.20
I remember all being crammed on a bus like sardines. As we were
coming over it was so good to see the free world, people, houses,
trees, just life in motion. At a bridge going over Lake Livingston, I
can remember one guy yelling out, “Officer (the bus driver), you
ain’t got a hair on your ass you don’t drive this bus off the bridge
into the water.” The ride was tense, and everyone started to laugh at
these remarks, but I was praying that it wouldn’t happen. I’m damn
sure others were also.
And we reached the unit, Terrell Unit it was called.
JUNE 14/08
Dear Mike,
How are you doing?
I hope things are going well on your end. What did I tell you, shit
was gonna hit the fan on the Judge & DA issue. It’s all over the news
and papers yesterday.21
Well, here is Chapter 2. I hope you got the first part.
Hope to and pray for it to see you after the 17th. Maybe one
Wednesday you could make it, the 18th or 25th.
Take care, my friend, and appreciate all your help. Mean that! “God
Bless You.”
Your friend,
Charles!
LIFE ON THE ROW: POLUNSKY UNIT
I remember pulling up to the back gate. Then it was Terrell Unit, but
Mr. Terrell didn’t want his name affiliated with death row so they
changed it to Polunsky Unit.22 It clearly looked bigger and a lot
different than the old rusty brick color Ellis Unit. We drove all the
way up, till we reach the back gate to the death row 12 Building
section. You were checked naked and given a piece of clothing they
consider boxers. I was placed in 29 cell with nothing except a blue
mattress. I got up on the bunk and looked out the window. It was very
small, 3 inches wide by 4 feet long, but at least you had a view.23
It was loud in the section because the sound echoes. Concrete & Iron
mix! I heard someone yell out, “TV change,” expressing that at Ellis,
you would yell out “TV change” for the officers to change the TVs on
the row. Well, there is no TVs over here at the new death row.
Someone was just trying to get a laugh, and it was funny, yet it made
you face reality. No TVs!
We were all isolated now. No more walking down to the commissary, no
more playing sports together, no more church services.24 Chow came to
you by a tray courier, and the first thing you clearly noticed about
it was the food was cold. And the state food really doesn’t taste
good warm or hot, but cold you don’t want to even eat it.
It’s like night & day, when you look at both units. Everything was
good over at Ellis Unit, except the heat. Yet many of us always have
said over the years, I’d rather have the hot summers over at Ellis
Unit than this unit any day. The main difference is the freedom, for
sure. I’ll elaborate. At the Ellis Unit, you were able to be outside
your cell from 6 am till 9 pm and till 10:30 pm in the dayroom. Here
you’re locked down 22 hours each day. You are allowed on your
scheduled days to go to the dayroom or outside rec yard. That’s 5
days a week. Dayroom consists of a table, pull up bar, toilet & sink,
and mat to exercise on. That’s it! Outside rec yard consists of a
basketball goal, pull up bar, sink & urinal. Picture a small cage
with glass on one side surrounded by two walls and then bars. All it
is missing is a rope with a tire hanging from the ceiling. It would
look just like a cage at the zoo for gorillas. If a dog was locked in
it, a thousand people would be protesting out front of the unit
yelling cruel & unusual punishment.
No more moving around by ourselves. You only move now being escorted.
You are cuffed no matter where you are going. The only human contact
you have over here is if a TDCJ guard touches your hands as they cuff.
I would love to attend church service again. I attended both over at
Ellis Unit, Protestant & Catholic. Why, you may say. You can’t get
enough of ‘GOD.’ Yes there is a slight difference, but both believe
in ‘GOD’ and the son ‘Christ Jesus.’ Here at Polunsky, you have
neither. No church service, no fellowship, unless you are extremely
lucky to have a neighbor who is a fellow believer. Once every two
weeks Mr. Ray Harrison does come around to give you two communion
cups to last you two weeks and sometimes voluntary chaplains come by.
What’s it like not attending church service? A big horrible feeling.
You need the church services in a terrible place like this.
The food is nasty! You are fed greasy food every day. Always some
type of greasy macaroni with some type of processed meat. Always
beans on the tray. And you are supposed to get dessert every other
day. Not true! At Ellis you got it every lunch. It’s like night and
day when it comes to the food you get at both units. Just look at the
pancakes. Ellis pancakes looked & tasted like you ate at “The Waffle
House.” Polunsky Unit look like they wiped the floor with them.
Work program was suspended because of the escape. What I don’t
understand is the TDCJ officials suspended it to figure out what went
wrong and how to fix it. That was in 1999. How come there hasn’t been
a new program started back up? After 8 + years what is going on? Not
a damn thing. They refused to fix it. They don’t want us moving
around by ourselves. We are in cells that a man is only supposed to
be in for 6 months, an inmate who received disciplinary action. But
we’ve been in these cells for over 8 years now. The work program was
important. It meant Freedom, more movement, less anxiety, stress on
your case, life, etc. Work is important regardless what type it is.
I’ve noticed the guards “Gassing” the inmates.25 A lot of times, if
you don’t come out of your cell they gas you. Men being Gassed! I can
only remember two times in all the years at Ellis that this ever
happened. Men are tired of being treated like scum here, so they do
things to get into trouble. Some guys do it because it’s a game to
them. Have I ever been gassed? NO! I don’t get into trouble. I know
how to do what is right and mind my own business.
Its getting worse and worse to cope with things. We are fed nasty ass
Johnny bags, consisting of wet pancakes and peanut butter. Only
shower every other day. They come in and shake your house down daily
to mess with you. Everyone gets stressed out. It gets louder in here,
just totally chaos. Men are even killing themselves. One guy took his
life at Ellis in the years I was there. But here at Polunsky I
believe there has been 10 or more who have committed suicide since
coming over here.26 Why? Being in this solitary confinement, not
being able to handle this way of life, etc. They lose their minds. I
hear a lot of guys say, I don’t want to live life this way. You have
nothing basically. Suicide is a way to escape.
My friend Chucky cut his wrist a few years ago and now is on some
type of depression drugs. A lot of Men ARE! I remember him telling
me, “Hood, every crack in the wall and spot, I’ve given a woman’s
name to.” I thought to myself, dude, you are losing it for real. This
is the same guy who played sports, made jewelry boxes and clocks that
looked bad ass.
Here is my daily Routine: I get up, say my prayers, read the bible
and try to spend time with ‘GOD.’ I fix a cup of coffee and usually
start a letter or two. Also depends on when it is time for me to go
to either dayroom/rec yard. I work out one body part twice a week. I
do pushups, pullups, curls, squats, etc: It is extremely important to
stay healthy. Stress can really eat at you and cause health problems.
You keep your house clean, because it’s the rules to keep a clean
house (cell).
It’s loud, so you sleep when you can. You got guys talking, and other
guys are talking louder to be overheard. At night also some crap goes
on. There isn’t any respect. You can ask people to keep it down, but
you get either ignored or disrespected by someone cussing you out.
You better buy some ear plugs. You got also psychiatric patients back
here, guys who have lost it. Well, they are always yelling, beating
on the doors, tables, etc. Then you have those who play that damn
chess day and night. They number their board with numbers and letters
so each person has the right sequence, and each person makes a move.
You just get sick and tired of hearing “pawn to echo 4,” etc.
If you are lucky your family or friends send you a little commissary
money. You are allowed to spend $75.00 every two weeks. You can buy a
radio, typewriter, fan, hot pot, headset, watch. Also hygienes, cause
they do not offer you deodorant, shampoo, shower shoes, mouth wash,
lotions. Also food, because the food is so bad. You definitely want
to buy a case of ramen soups for $6.00, cause you can survive on them
babies. A lot of men buy them. I also buy tuna, jalapeno peppers,
cookies and vitamins. A lot of guys fix Prison Tacos, mixing
different types of food together to place on flour tortillas. You
take a pouch of chili, beef pot roast, or beef tips, throw in some
chips, ramen soup, peppers and cheese, and you have something really
darn good. Beats the tray every day. You place everything in a bag,
yell at the guy you offered on eating with that night or day, and he
shoots his fishing line down to you.27 You fish the end in, place the
bag on his line, he pulls it back to his cell. We have a little open
space at the bottom of the door, big enough to pull some food in, or
newspaper. You even got Tuna tacos: Tuna, ramen soup, salad dressing,
peppers, pickles, cheese, and chips. There is some really good cooks
back here.
I have an execution date now.28 And I set in what is called a Death
Watch Cell. Am on video camera 24/7. If I take a pee (urinate) or
defecate, a woman can see you do it.
Being on death watch sucks. You’re already at your wits end, stressed
out, and you got to cope with so much yet remain positive and don’t
sweat the small shit.
This is my fourth execution date, last one in 2005, June 30. I
received a stay June 28 that Monday evening and heard it on KDOL.
When you get a date, they play the music you want and family &
friends call. I requested the same music I did in 2005.29
What will happen to me? Will the state put to death another man on
the 17th? I remain positive that the corruption will come out and I’m
given a stay and a new trial to be given a fair chance to put forth
evidence.30 Am I scared? I walk by faith. ‘Jesus’ said don’t lose
heart. I believe that things will work out.
JUNE 25/08
What I remember of the events that happen this day and night, Mike.
It mentally and physically wore me out.
Look forward to hearing/seeing you when you can.
Thanks for talking to my brother, appreciate that. “God Bless You.”
Respectfully,
Charles!
P.S. Yes! A gut wrenching experience!
GOING TO THE WALLS
Got out to the visiting room right at 8 am for a visit with my
brother James + Sister Cheryll.31 To my surprise, my brother walked
in an old familiar face too, a longtime friend, Mr. Terry. I was
overjoyed to see my friend, who being from Wisconsin took the Amtrak
train all that way to just see me for 2 hours. So we talked awhile,
reminisced about old times. He left so my sister could come in the
remaining time, cause you’re only allowed 2 people in at a time. As
time was going by, we three just broke down. I knew the tears would
come, but I actually thought it would be when they said you have 5
minutes left.
I’m not ashamed to shed some tears. It’s my Brother & sister who I
love dearly sitting there. And a sense of fear out of the blue came
up. But it was quickly extinguished by saying “we got to walk by
faith. And one thing we are and that’s believers of ‘Jesus Christ.’”
And time was up and we placed our hands on the glass to express our
love for one another. Sister started crying again, and they cuffed me.
I watched them walk out, and I was escorted to the bathroom where
they strip you down.
One of the Lieutenants broke off the handcuff key, so now the cuffs
can’t be removed. There was so many ranking officers gathering over
there, laughing. It was appalling, downright disrespectful to stand
along the wall there and carry on a laughing mood, knowing a man is
considered to be on his way to the Walls Unit. But this isn’t nothing
new, it happens all the time. When someone is being taken over to the
Walls Unit, the officials shake hands, laugh, and carry on like they
are at a ballgame.
Anyway, Major Smith, who I have a great deal of respect for cause he
has treated me with respect and like a human being, he told me, “Mr.
Hood, I looked at your record while on the row. You don’t cause
trouble, so I will assist you within my means and make sure you get
what you need, and if you need to speak to me over a matter I’ll
handle it.” And Major Smith lives up to his word. He took over the
situation with the cuffs, and after 30 minutes they cut it off with
some heavy duty bolt cutters. I was then escorted out of there,
walking by all the officials who were just carrying on having a good
ol’ time. Their faces went blank you could see, some even didn’t want
to look me in the eyes. I just walked past them with my head up, and
down the side walk to another small cage down the hallway where all
my clothes were removed. I went through the protocol of stripping
out, where you ran your fingers through your hair, opened your mouth,
raised your arms, raised your testicles, turned around, lift your
feet up, wiggled your toes, and bent over and spread your butt
cheeks. Then you’re given all new clothes and cuffed and escorted up
a little ways and then placed in a chair that detects if you have any
type of metal in your rectum or in your mouth.
After that display you are asked to get on your knees. And then
you’re shackled with leg irons, and a chain belt is raised to go up
to the hand cuffs you have in the front.
You are escorted from 12 Building out to a van, placed along with
your property in a very small cage, extremely hot too, because it has
plexiglas on it, so you aren’t getting none of the air condition that
the officers up front are getting for your 45 minute trip to the
Walls Unit.32 We drove to the back gate, where we go through the
check point and an officer noticed the back left tire was very low,
but we went on with it. Two cars showed up. It’s your guarded posse
that transfers you over. The drive over was bumpy and hot, but being
outside the unit after spending all those years in a concrete cage,
just seeing life, everything, people in their everyday routine,
stopping at red lights, and seeing people gaze at us, going across
the bridge, seeing a boat out on the water was a blessing.
Arriving at the Walls Unit, we went to the back gate. You could tell
the unit was extremely old, the architecture designs of the bricks,
the old rusty look, etc. The back gate officer asked my TDCJ number
and they proceeded to go through the maze of gates to reach the old
part of the prison where so many men were executed for so many years.
As you get up to the fence, there’s a brown tarp on the fence, so
once you go through the gate you are not seen getting out of the van.
You are escorted through a heavy steel door and then over to the far
end, where the cuffs, leg irons are removed. You once again go
through the strip down routine, get a pair of boxers, are finger
printed, and you are then escorted down to a cage.33 You are asked,
“Are you going to cause trouble?” several times. A shirt, pants, and
socks are given to you to wear. The Warden comes in and goes through
the protocol with you. I asked if I could speak. He said, “What is it
you have to say, Mr. Hood?” I asked, “Sir, when you come in, could I
just lay down and y’all carry me into the room? Cause I don’t want to
walk in there.” Warden said, “We will do whatever you want, Mr. Hood.”
Mr. Lopez, the Head Chaplain over all the units, was there with me.
We go back a long time. I met him at Ellis Unit. A wonderful man,
highly respected by a lot of us. Me & Mr. Lopez spoke and held hands
and prayed together. He got me some tea, and the tea over there is so
good. Nothing like you get here. Very sweet and 8 cups just wasn’t
enough. I was stressed and nervous to say the least. A tray of
desserts were on a table in front of the cell. I noticed one thing, a
pastry called empanadas (a Mexican pie). I asked Mr. Lopez for one of
them.
I used the phone to call my parents, my brother James, sister
Cheryll, and two dear friends, Sylvia and Mr. Terry, who were over at
the Hospitality House.34 I was on the speak phone praying with them.
Sister Cheryll is a woman of great Christian faith, and always
standing firm in the faith and love of “God” through “Jesus Christ.”
I was calling everyone I had a phone number to. I was told I could
use the phone up till 5:15 pm so I wanted to try and speak to
everyone to encourage them and not worry but walk by faith. I called
a dear friend Debbie, who assisted me with a three way, cause they
only allow you to call within the United States. So I spoke to her,
and she said, you want to call Nicole, who lives in Canada. Heck
yeah! So! I called her, first got her answering machine, and she
picked up, was crying, probably just sitting on the sofa and was
thinking about me, and we surprised her.
I called my parents and the food showed up about 4:00, I think. I
ordered 2 7 oz steaks, 7 sunny side up eggs, with a bowl of Jalapeño
peppers and a glass of ice and 4 milks, and a pint of Vanilla ice
cream.35 But I just sat there on the phone talking to my parents, and
I couldn’t eat it. I just didn’t have the stomach to eat it. It
smelled good, looked good but I just couldn’t eat it. Just kept
drinking the tea. I continued to talk with family, friends, and my
attorney Mr. Ellis.36
Then came the good news. I got a stay.37 I jumped up with joy in my
heart, praised ‘God,’ got down on my knees, prayed, and just felt joy
all over. Me and Mr. Lopez were very happy. He said he was going over
to see James, and then the process of bringing me back started. I was
cuffed and put back in the van. We started back to Polunsky Unit. We
got to the back gate, where we stayed until the other two cars could
arrive. One of the officers came back to the door and said, “Well,
Hoss, got to take you back.” I kept praying, Please “God” don’t let
this happen, please don’t let these people execute me.
The stress level went up, and we got back to the death house. Went
back through the process and was placed back in the cell. Mr. Lopez
showed back up, and I was shaking like crazy. I asked to call my
attorney. Mr. Ellis picked up, explained what was going on.38 I told
him not to give up, please don’t give up. I couldn’t stop shaking. I
continued to pray hard, even calling over to the Hospitality House
and being placed on the speaker phone and praying with my sister
Cheryll and brother, Sylvia and Mr. Terry. Mr. Lopez would come over
to read bible verses to me, to let me know its ok.
Hours went by. It was 10 pm. Still attorneys battled back-n-forth
with the courts.39 Stress levels continued to go up. I remember my
sister said tic clock tick, expressing that if 12 o’clock rolled
around, they couldn’t execute me. I didn’t even want to know what
time it was. So much was running through my mind. Was I scared, or
just my nerves shot? I can say they were shot.
Called Mr. Ellis again. It was after 11 pm then, and he said the
Supreme Court turned down my issues before them.40 At 11:30 my
brother was called to come over to the prison. Every time the phone
rang it got tense. I called Cheryll once again. Mr. Lopez held my hand.
Next thing I knew the room filled up with a lot of guards and people
in free world clothing. I said, Cheryll, ‘Jesus’ is here to get me.
All of a sudden, a calmness came over me. I looked up, expressed I
love you Cheryll, tell Mom and Dad I love them, and don’t you worry
okay. ‘Jesus’ is here. I felt the Lord in the room. I know without a
doubt he was there. Mr. Lopez continued to stand in front of the cell
and hold my hand. Got me some tea. I stood there, looked at Warden
Simmons, and said, sir I appreciate you treating me like a human
being. I let my record express what kinda inmate I was, sir. I wasn’t
a trouble maker. And Major Smith was there. I thanked him for also
treating me with dignity. And I started to express that “Jesus” was
here, I knew it, and Mr. Lopez knew it too.41
Minutes went by, and the room continued to fill up. And the next
thing I knew a gentleman came up to me and said, “I’ll be taking you
back to Polunsky Unit in 30 minutes. Get ready.” I looked at him and
said are you lying? He said, I don’t joke around like that. I looked
at Mr. Lopez and we prayed and I fell to my knees, tears streaming
down my face. I said thank you “God,” all glory goes to you. The room
emptied out, and I was shaking so bad it was hard to hold the cup to
drink the tea.42
Mr. Lopez said he was going over to see my brother. I thanked him and
said I love you, sir. He left, and I was stripped out, cuffed again,
leg irons placed back on. I was exhausted now. We walked out the door
to get into the vans and I asked the officer if he got the tire fixed
on the van. He laughed and said, you sure are worried about that
tire. I didn’t say nothing else, but in my thoughts, yeah, I was
worried, cause they drive fast, and if a tire blows we could all get
hurt.
Loaded once again into the van, and I said prayer after prayer
thanking “GOD.” We couldn’t leave until the death warrant expired. We
started back, the hour drive just seemed like two hours. When we came
within view of the big lights of the prison, I was glad to get back.
After going through the back gate, we drove up to 12 Building, the
door was open and Lt. Brown met us. I was totally exhausted. I asked,
sir, if it is possible could you please just get me a reasonable
mattress. I’m wore out, sir.
Lt. Brown said everything is already taken care of. I was taken in.
After my property was placed in the cell, Officer Pope got me a tray.
I ate the eggs and just fell out, went straight to sleep.?php tex_end
(); ?>
EDITORIAL NOTES
1 With Hood’s permission, his letters have been edited. Some of the
grammar and spelling have been corrected for readability.
2 At Ellis, convicts were allowed to watch satellite TV in dayrooms
or from their cells. Sets hung on the walls of the runs—or walkways—
about every twenty feet. I asked Larry Fitzgerald, who was the public
information officer for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice
(TDCJ) at the time, how they decided what to watch. “It was democracy
in its purest form,” he told me. “They voted on it.”
3 A support staff inmate (SSI) is a well-behaved prisoner who earns
the right to work in the prison laundry or as a janitor.
4 Donald Miller was executed February 27, 2007, for the robbery and
murders of Michael Mozingo and Kenneth Whitt near Lake Houston in 1982.
5 Max Soffar, the only Jew on death row in Texas, was convicted of
murdering three people—Arden Alane Felsher, Tommy Lee Temple, and
Stephen Allen Sims—in a Houston bowling alley in 1981. His conviction
was overturned in 2004 by the Fifth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals,
but he was reconvicted in 2006. He remains on death row.
6 Hood did not remember Cosmos’s full name, only that he had been
executed.
7 Fletcher Mann, known as Birdman, was executed June 1, 1995, for the
1980 murder of Christopher Bates in Dallas.
8 Farris was executed January 13, 1999, for the 1983 murder of Clark
Rosenbaum Jr., a deputy sheriff in Fort Worth.
9 At Ellis, services for Protestants, Catholics, and Muslims were
held in the rec room.
10 James Allridge, known as Slim, was executed August 26, 2004, for
the 1985 murder of Brian Clenbennen in Fort Worth.
11 Willis was eventually freed in 2004 after a federal judge
overturned the conviction. When I talked with Hood about Willis, he
got tears in his eyes. “I cried like a baby when Mr. Willis left,
because he was like a dad to me. What really hurt—I get a letter from
him and he told me he didn’t want to write no more because he wanted
to get this place out of his life.”
12 One of the ways death row inmates passed the time at Ellis was by
“piddling,” or making crafts out of things bought at the commissary.
With so much time on their hands, they often produced surprising
artifacts. Kenneth McDuff, who murdered fourteen people and was
executed in 1998, once made a clock out of tongue depressors.
13 Robert Alan Fratta was convicted in 1994 of hiring two men to kill
his estranged wife, Farah, at her home in Atascocita. They were also
convicted of capital murder. All three remain on death row, though
last year, an appeals court ruled that Fratta should receive a new
trial.
14 Marlin Enos Nelson, known to Hood as Chucky, was convicted of the
1987 murder of James Randle Howard in Houston. He remains on death row.
15 Larry Fitzgerald, the former public information officer, did not
deny Hood’s allegations. “I don’t know about selling it,” he told me.
“But there have been officers in the system disciplined for doing it.”
16 George McFarland was convicted of the 1991 robbery and murder of
Kenneth Kwan in Houston. He remains on death row.
17 Paul Colella was convicted of the 1991 murders of Michael
Lavesphere and David Ray Taylor on South Padre Island. In 2003 the
capital murder charge was dropped. Colella pleaded guilty to two
counts of murder and was given twenty years. He’ll be eligible for
parole in 2012.
18 Bobby Lee Hines was convicted of the 1991 robbery and murder of
Michelle Wendy Haupt in Dallas. He remains on death row.
19 Cartwright was executed May 19, 2005, for the robbery and murder
of Nick Moraida in Corpus Christi in 1996.
20 On Thanksgiving Day 1998, seven death row convicts attempted a
daring escape from the Ellis Unit. Only one, Martin Gurule, made it
beyond the fence. He was found a week later about a mile from the
prison, drowned in Harmon Creek, a tributary of the Trinity River.
The cardboard and magazines he had strapped around him for protection
from the razor wire had swelled with water and weighed him down. This
was the first escape from Texas's death row since 1934, and the
worldwide attention that followed was extremely embarrassing for the
TDCJ. This, along with the fact that Ellis was overcrowded, led the
state to move all inmates to the Terrell Unit, a modern prison opened
in 1993.
21 Two days before Hood sent this letter, an appeal had been filed on
his behalf. It contained an affidavit from Matthew Goeller, a former
assistant district attorney who worked under Tom O’Connell (the
prosecutor in Hood’s case), alleging that the affair between
O’Connell and Judge Verla Sue Holland was “common knowledge” around
the courthouse. Goeller was the first source who had worked for the
prosecution to corroborate some of the claims in the 2005 Salon
article, and his testimony brought a great deal of national media
attention to Hood’s case.
22 The Terrell Unit had been named for Charles Terrell, a former
chairman of the Texas Board of Criminal Justice. But in July 2001,
Terrell, who was no longer on the board, asked that his name be taken
off the prison. “I just don’t like my name being associated with
death row,” he told the Dallas Morning News. Allan B. Polunsky,
another former chairman, had no such qualms.
23 At Polunsky the cells are six feet by ten feet. The solid steel
doors have two narrow vertical slits for observation and a drawerlike
horizontal slot for food delivery. Unlike the cells at Ellis, which
had bars for doors, these cells were specifically designed for
solitary confinement.
24 From the start, it was clear things were going to be different at
the new prison. Officials had concluded that Gurule and his mates had
hatched their plan on the yard, in the cells, in the garment factory,
and possibly during church services. So goodbye to all that.
25 When a recalcitrant or slow-moving inmate will not leave his cell,
the guards use pepper spray to subdue and remove him. According to
Larry Fitzgerald, before pepper spray became common, in the nineties,
the guards used tear gas.
26 Hood’s numbers are incorrect. Between 1977 and 1999 there were
five death row suicides at the Ellis Unit. At Polunsky, there have
been five more, including two this year. Since the beginning of 2000,
there have been 216 suicides in the entire Texas prison system, which
currently holds 157,000 inmates at 109 units.
27 The ingenuity of doomed, isolated men is pretty much unlimited. To
send messages or packages, they pull threads from their sheets or
clothes and weave them together to create a fishing line. They weight
one end with a paper clip or some other object and throw it down the
run.
28 In September 2007 the Supreme Court put a de facto moratorium on
executions while it considered the constitutionality of lethal
injections. For eight months, there were no executions anywhere in
the United States. Then, this past April, the court approved the
lethal injection protocol used in Kentucky. Subsequently, the Court
of Criminal Appeals (CCA) ruled that the Texas protocol did not
differ significantly from the Kentucky method, and the state began
rescheduling executions. Hood’s was to be the third.
29 KDOL is a radio station in Livingston that airs a special program
from seven to nine p.m. on the eve of an inmate’s execution, during
which the host, Pastor Sylvia Joplin, plays the inmate’s song
requests and reads messages from his family and friends. The weak
signal does not travel far, but prisoners at Polunsky with transistor
radios have no trouble picking it up. In 2005 and again this past
June, Hood submitted the following playlist: Bob Seger and the Silver
Bullet Band (“Against the Wind,” “Main Street,” “Beautiful Loser,”
“Old Time Rock & Roll,” “You’ll Accomp’ny Me,” “Still the Same,” “The
Fire Inside,” “Hollywood Nights,” “Night Moves”), .38 Special
(“Rockin’ Into the Night,” “Hold on Loosely,” “Fantasy Girl,” “Caught
Up in You”), Meat Loaf (“Bat Out of Hell”), Foreigner (“Dirty White
Boy”), Guns N’ Roses (“November Rain”), Bruce Springsteen (“Born in
the USA,” “Hungry Heart”), Eddie Money (“I Wanna Go Back”), and
MercyMe (“I Can Only Imagine”).
30 Hood’s hopes were pinned to the petition filed on June 12
containing the Goeller affidavit. But two days after this letter was
sent, on June 16, the CCA turned this petition down, saying the new
information didn’t meet the filing requirements.
31 Hood has one brother, James; one sister, Cheryll; and six
stepsisters and stepbrothers. He and his siblings grew up in Indiana,
South Carolina, and Florida. His parents, Charles and Sandra, came to
Texas for his previous execution date, in 2005, but are ailing and
could not make the trip on June 17.
32 Until they were transferred to the Ellis Unit in 1965, death row
inmates were housed at the Huntsville Unit, known to most people as
“the Walls,” for the 32-foot-high redbrick walls that surround the
prison. Even after death row moved away, however, executions
continued to be carried out in Huntsville, meaning that every
condemned inmate has to take a final trip to the Walls. It is a
scenic drive. Starting in Livingston, the van goes through Onalaska,
over Lake Livingston, past Point Blank, and through the piney woods
of the Sam Houston National Forest before arriving at the death house.
33 Prisoners awaiting execution are held in a small cell within a
larger room that is adjacent to the chamber in which the lethal
injection is administered. The door to this chamber is fifteen feet
away from the cell. According to Hood, whenever the door was opened,
a “big blue light” spilled into the room. While waiting, prisoners
are allowed to make collect calls.
34 The Hospitality House is a privately funded guesthouse in
Huntsville built to host convicts’ families. Victims’ families
usually congregate in a room inside the Walls Unit. There to witness
Hood’s execution were Ron Williamson’s son, Roger, who is in a
wheelchair because of cerebral palsy; Roger’s nurse and assistant,
Debbie Locke; Williamson’s ex-wife, Eva Williamson; a friend of Eva’s
named William Thomas Riley; and Julie Anne Wallace, Tracie Lynn
Wallace’s sister. James Hood was the only member of Hood’s family on
his witness list.
35 For their last meals, prisoners are allowed to request anything
that could normally be prepared in the prison kitchen. Popular items
include cheeseburgers, french fries, and ice cream. For her last
meal, Karla Faye Tucker, who was executed in 1998, ordered a banana,
a peach, and a garden salad with ranch dressing—but never ate it.
Kenneth McDuff ordered two 16-ounce steaks, eggs, fries, vegetables,
and coconut pie. Like Hood, he was served Salisbury steak, the only
kind of steak served at Huntsville.
36 Hood has two main attorneys, Richard Ellis, who works pro bono out
of his San Francisco law firm, and Greg Wiercioch, another San
Francisco lawyer, who works for the nonprofit Texas Defender Service.
All death row inmates get court-appointed appellate attorneys, but
the lucky ones, like Hood, attract the attention of high-quality
death row legal representation willing to work for little or no pay.
37 The day before, Hood’s team had filed three claims with the U.S.
Supreme Court to try to stop the execution. Now, in mid-afternoon,
Wiercioch filed a motion in the 296th District Court of Collin
County, the court in which Hood’s case was originally prosecuted, to
compel the district attorney’s office to disclose any information
that would confirm the reports of a relationship between Judge
Holland and DA O’Connell. However, due to a strange (and, for Hood,
beneficial) set of circumstances, Wiercioch’s motion wound up in the
219th District Court. Since the current judge in the 296th, John
Roach Jr., is the son of the Collin County district attorney, John
Roach, all criminal cases in Collin County are now referred to other
district courts as a matter of policy. Wiercioch’s motion was
referred to Judge Curt Henderson, who had signed the death warrant in
May. Judge Henderson set up a telephone hearing at 3:50 p.m. Two
prosecutors were also present on the call. It ended at 4:05 p.m. with
Henderson’s announcing he was indeed recalling the warrant—and then
recusing himself from the case. Henderson gave no explanation, but he
later told Wiercioch that he knew all about the rumors of an affair,
since, like Matthew Goeller, he had also served under O’Connell as an
assistant district attorney.
38 Prosecutors had immediately appealed to the CCA, saying Judge
Henderson had overstepped his authority, but because Henderson had
recused himself, there was initially nothing the court could do. In
essence the judge had canceled the execution and closed up shop. The
prosecutors’ next move was to ask the CCA to order John Ovard, a
regional supervisory judge, to reinstate the warrant. At around 9
p.m. the CCA complied, and shortly after that Ovard signed the order.
Once he had done so, the only thing keeping Hood alive were his three
claims before the Supreme Court.
39 Ellis says that he attempted to keep in close touch with the
warden throughout the evening, but since he did not have the warden’s
cell phone number, he usually had to settle for leaving a message
with his secretary. “I called the warden eight or nine times after
six p.m.,” he told me, “to make sure he knew ‘this is pending, that
is pending.’”
40 A few minutes after 11 p.m., the high court turned Hood down. At
11:17 p.m. Wiercioch e-filed a last-ditch motion with the CCA to
reconsider the ruling on the judicial bias claim.
41 At this very moment, in a room adjoining the death chamber, James
Hood sat with reporters, guards, and others, nervously waiting. Next
door to that room, Roger Williamson, Debbie Locke, Eva Williamson,
William Thomas Riley, and Julie Anne Wallace waited in another room.
Counting prison and TDCJ officials, 33 people were on hand to see
Hood die.
42 Wiercioch’s final appeal to the CCA likely saved Hood’s life. A
condemned inmate can’t be taken out of the holding cell and strapped
onto the gurney until all pending claims have been cleared.
Wiercioch’s appeal was filed at 11:17 p.m. The CCA denied the appeal
at 11:46, but by then it made no difference. In fact, the execution
had been called off nearly ten minutes earlier, at 11:37 p.m. TDCJ
officials had simply run out of time. It takes more than 23 minutes
to take the prisoner from the holding cell, fasten him to the gurney
with eight leather straps, find veins in his arms, insert the IVs,
bring in the witnesses, let the prisoner say his final words, and
administer the sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide, and potassium
chloride, which will sedate him, collapse his lungs, and finally stop
his heart. TDCJ public information officer Michelle Lyons explained,
“It was determined that there was not enough time for prison
officials to follow the proper protocol prior to the warrant expiring.”
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