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The Execution of Casey McWhorter/The Only Eyewitness Account

The Execution of Casey McWhorter/The Only Eyewitness Account

Last updated on: October 21, 2024 at 8:18 pm by Jeff Hood

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The Execution of Casey McWhorter/The Only Eyewitness Account 2024-10-21T20:18:59-06:00 Jeff Hood

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JH.

*Casey McWhorter was executed on November 16, 2023. As his spiritual advisor, I was the only eyewitness to the entirety of the execution. I recently sat down to gather my recollections and thoughts about that night.

On the last day, I arrived at Holman Prison a little later than usual. The weather seemed overcast. Then again, everything seemed overcast. I wanted Casey McWhorter to spend some of that precious time alone with his family. Plus, I knew that I was in for a long day. There were multiple things that I needed to take care of. Numerous last-minute appeals to try to save Casey’s life were at the top of my list. Regardless of how hard I tried, I wasn’t hopeful. But all of that was over now. I’d just taken off my robe and boots when one of the guards begin to question the sacramental elements I was bringing in. There was a minimal amount of oil, wine and a wafer in clear plastic containers. I told them that they were welcome to taste the oil. They didn’t think such a comment was as funny as I did. Once everybody had calmed down and successfully patted every inch of my body, I put my robe and boots back on. I felt violated and they seemed to enjoy it. The clear glass door swung open.

The visitation area is called a yard. However, it’s not outside. The room is made of windows on all sides. However, the windows are made for looking in not out. Bizarre glass that cut in every direction. Walls were behind every window. Casey and his family were seated at a table in the middle of the room. Throughout the day, I watched as Casey leaned on his mother. People came and went, but Casey kept his head on his mother. I couldn’t help but think about the head of Jesus on the breast of Mary. The passion under the glow of fluorescent light. The only time he took a break was to sip from a grape soda, his favorite. While Casey laid on his mother, I was left to talk to Casey’s mother’s preacher boyfriend. He was bald, tall and old with glasses and a large nose to hold them up. While I can’t remember his name, I do remember his theology. It was a mix of fundamentalism, freedom and fanaticism. The fundamentalism based on a fidelity to the Bible that seemed to defy reason. The freedom based on belief in charismatic gifts. The fanaticism based on a belief that he and he alone was correct in his understandings. For hours, I listened to this dude talk. Even when everything seemed to get quiet and serious, he still talked. Thankfully, Casey saved me multiple times. Even with death approaching, he had an intuitive way of taking care of those he loved. The day got shorter and shorter. The lights seemed to turn more purple and start to dim.

By now, we’d been in that room for hours. I was cooking inside my robe. Eventually, Casey wanted to talk about what his final words would be. We leaned into each other and spoke softly. In the stillness, I encouraged him to use those last moments to speak to those he loved and to those who’d wronged him. Of course, he wanted to speak of his love for his family. They’d stuck with him through some very difficult hours. I can’t imagine what such a road looked like. Next, he wanted to make sure that he spoke to his archnemesis, Warden Terry Raybon. For a very long time, Raybon had made Casey’s life hell and he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to let the world know (in his words), “how big of a piece of shit he really is.” When the Warden’s name came up, Casey flashed a mischievous grin. His disdain wasn’t out of place. Throughout his career, it was well known that Raybon had repeatedly got in trouble for abusing people. There’d been numerous stories in the press, not the least of which concerned multiple incidents where he abused women. We got into specifics. Casey wanted everyone to understand the absurdity of one of the most immoral people he’d ever known being the self-righteous functionary presiding over his execution. Before we could sketch out all of the words, Casey’s last meal arrived.

Growing up, my grandfather loved eating those Turtles candies, the ones with caramel and pecan covered in chocolate. When Casey told me that they were his favorite kind of candy, I almost fell over. I hadn’t seen them in years. Casey assured me that they were still out there and that he had been craving some for decades. When the time came to order his last meal, I had no doubt what he wanted.

A red platter of Turtles candies was brought in. One by one, Casey devoured them. He couldn’t get the wrappers off fast enough. Quite frankly, I started to get sick watching. I think he literally ate 25 of them. Casey was experiencing pure joy with every bite. You could see it on his face. Determined not to interrupt the beauty of it all, I simply set back and smiled. The wrappers piled high. In the back of my mind, I knew time was drawing short.

When we got to the point where there was less than an hour left, Casey put his head back on his mother. I could see small blue tears streaming down both of there cheeks. For what seemed like an eternity and mere seconds at the same time, Casey laid there. Not wanting to distract from the beauty of it all, I started to slowly walk around the room. In fact, I walked so hard that my feet started to get tired. I could feel every bone. Every step was a prayer. I keep reciting the 23rd Psalm. Casey’s mom’s boyfriend heard me and came over to walk around with me. While I didn’t mind the company, I did get a little worn out by the conversation. All I wanted to think about was Casey. It was clear that he wasn’t sure if I was the right type of Christian or not. I tried to pay it no mind. Jesus comes in all shapes and sizes. Of course, I was trying to pay the most attention to the valley of the shadow of death.

The guards came in to warn us that there was about ten minutes left. I encouraged the family to go ahead and wrap it up if possible. The last thing you want is for anybody’s final memory to be their loved one being dragged away screaming. When the moment came for the family to walk away, I’ll never forget Casey’s outstretched hand to his mother as she left. Eternity seemed to separate them. For one brief moment, she turned around with a final blue tear in her eye. Tightly, I put my arm around Casey. He clinched my robe. Repeatedly, I reminded him of his strength. Quickly, I offered brief spurts of prayers. Then, the guards came to take him away. The execution was about to commence.

Besides the constant gaze of the cameras overhead, I was alone. In fact, there have been few other times that I’d felt more alone. Unsure of how to function amidst the loneliness of such horror, I started walking again. Heavy steps over and over in a pattern of devastation. I kept stepping along the same path. One foot in front of the other, that’s all I knew to do. Though it took longer than I expected, I still wasn’t ready. The door opened. The guards called me forward. We began to walk to a place that I didn’t want to go.

Parts of Holman Prison are literally uninhabitable. When you go through the prison, you walk back and forth between areas that are condemned and areas that are not. The guard pushed me to keep up a pretty good pace. I couldn’t outrun the smells. I think she didn’t want me to look around too much. As we approached a dark hallway, I heard her gasp. Looking up, I realized there were cats everywhere. I was struck by the colors going in every direction. While I’d heard that Holman had a cat problem, I never imagined that walking through the halls would be like parting a sea of cats. To call it distracting would be an understatement. Can you imagine having to dodge cats on the way to seeing someone you love executed? The solemnity of the cats only seemed to foreshadow the evil approaching.

I thought I was going directly to the execution. When the door to the waiting area (or the holding cell next to the chamber) opened, I was immediately struck by how loud the television in the room was. It wasn’t even all that big. ESPN was blasting so loud that I didn’t even immediately notice Casey in the holding cell. Once I did, I couldn’t get to him fast enough. When the cell door opened, I sat as close to Casey as I could. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to hear him. The bed was softer than I thought it would be. I realized that Casey was on the phone. He was practically shouting. Then, I realized that he was talking to his mother. Communication was practically impossible in any direction. Eventually, we were able to pray together. I was only able to stay for a few more moments. ESPN had filibustered the entire visit. I tried to read scripture, but it was of no use. Desperate, I repeatedly asked the guards to turn the television down. They laughed at my pleas. With snacks laid out in every direction, they just ate and enjoyed the exhaustive coverage of the day’s sports. The lack of humanity was stunning. The guards didn’t want to be disturbed. I grew angrier and angrier. Casey leaned in and said, “I’m about to get a blank slate. God’s going to give me a blank slate. I got this. Forget about them.” Then, they told me that our final visit was over. I was escorted out the door, past the horrific conditions, through the cats and back to the visiting room. Everything was so heavy.

Standing there alone, I continued to pray. Nothing seemed to make it higher than the ceiling. I felt dumb for continuing to try. Sweat poured from my head. Defeated, I sat down in the corner. The day had been so long. I hadn’t slept in days. The corner was cool and quiet. I closed my eyes. I drifted back and forth. For a short time, I dozed off. In the dreams that arrived, I could see the execution chamber. The only difference was that it was me on the gurney. Needles and tubes flowed down my arms. Warden Terry Raybon loudly pronounced my sentence. Right before I was to be executed, I was shaken awake. There was nobody there to wake me. I was still alone. I could feel multiple hands. I still don’t know where they came from. They were foreign yet still familiar. As I was trying to get my head together, the guards came in to take me back to Casey again. I did it all over again, horror, cats and general lunacy bundled all together.

The guard did the secret knock on the door. I guess I hadn’t picked up on it the first time. There were four quick taps and two slow taps. Hollow knocks from the hands of hollow people. I could hear the television blasting ESPN still. When the door opened, I was struck by the empty holding cell. Casey was gone. Multiple guards were still sitting there munching on snacks and watching television. Every crunch made me more and more angry. Do these people have no soul? We were mere seconds from a murder. These soulless reprobates just sat there and stuffed their faces. The door to the chamber was right in front of me. It looked like the door to a vault. The knock was the same. The door swung open. Death spewed out.

When I entered the room, I went straight to Casey. Sweat continued to pour from my forehead. I wasn’t hot. I was in agony. Reaching out, I put my hand on his shoulder. With that reassuring look I’d seen him give many times before, Casey said, “I love you, Jeff.” I didn’t hesitate, “I love you too, brother.” Though we’d prepared for this moment for months, I was finding hard to breathe. I began to read from John 8. This was the passage Casey wanted read first. Indeed, he wanted those in the room (which included Captain McKenzie, Lieutenant Quarles and Regional Administrator of Prisons Stewart-Riley) to know how evil what they were doing was. When I hit the infamous words, “Let you who are without sin caste the first stone,” Casey let everybody in the room know, “He’s talking to you.” I leaned further in. I wanted him to know that I was completely there. Then, we moved on to Psalm 23. “Thou anointeth my head with oil.” I pulled out the small vile. Making the sign of the cross multiple times. I poured oil on his forehead. In the background, I could still hear ESPN blasting. Then, the Captain pulled me back. I didn’t want to go. It’s like my legs wouldn’t move in the right direction. I’d left my soul on the gurney.

For a brief second, my ministry flashed before my eyes. In the suspended seconds, I considered what it would mean for me to dive on to Casey and start ripping tubes out. Then, I remembered all of my other guys. I started to hear familiar voices. Scott Eizember said, “Don’t be stupid.” Arthur Brown said, “You got to keep resisting. This isn’t the last one.” Anthony Sanchez said, “You still have love to give.” Then, Casey turned his head as far as he could and said, “It’s ok. I’m ready, Jeff.” Knowing that there was only so much that I could do, I turned around and walked to the place that I was told to stand. Though I felt defeated, I knew that Casey wasn’t done with his resistance.

I assumed that the execution was about to begin. I think everyone in the room assumed the same thing. Captain McKenzie gave the signal. Everyone leaned forward in expectation. The lights even seemed to flicker. Then, Warden Raybon swung the door open from the control center and told everyone to stop. The look on his face was one of horror. When I looked to the viewing room behind me, I realized what they had done. They’d almost started the execution without the witnesses. I couldn’t believe the stupidity. I could smell the ignorance. It smelled like bullshit.

For dozens of minutes, Warden Raybon kept poking his head from the command center behind the gurney to tell the staff that it’d be a few more minutes. He looked like a turtle. The minutes got longer and longer. I felt my body get heavier and heavier from the enormity of it all. The wall behind me was the only thing holding me up. I was just so tired. The only noise that I could hear was ESPN. “University of Michigan football coach Jim Harbaugh has accepted a three-game ban from the Big 10.” It was a big story. In fact, the guys on the execution squad were so into it that I could hear every word that was said. Through it all, Casey just laid on the gurney with his eyes closed. Nobody gave a shit.

I tried to approach Casey multiple times. They kept waving me off. If the execution was delayed, I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t be there to pray by Casey’s side. I took solace in the fact that I’d just told Casey, “God will never leave you nor forsake you.” Even if I couldn’t get there, God was there.

Have you ever seen a soul float? Looking at Casey, it was clear that he was suspended somewhere between here and there. The officials just stood there with their hands behind their backs. On this night, the monsters just wore simple smirks. I heard the witnesses moving to their seats behind me. When I turned around, I saw dignitaries filling the middle box. Alabama rewards those who pursue these executions with the prize of getting to watch the show. The other windows are difficult to see through, but I could tell who was who or at the very least which group of people were which. When the execution finally began, we’d waited close to 45 minutes beyond when the officials in the room thought that everything was going to begin. Amid the lunacy, Casey just laid on the gurney fighting for his peace.

Once everyone was in their seat, Warden Raybon swung open the door to the command center and shuffled across the floor. Evil has a strange look. I could see a trail of sulfur on the floor behind him. For somebody with such a reputation for horror, he was so weak and moved so slow. When he arrived at the microphone, he popped it on the top to make sure that it was still working. What an amateur. One would think they’d be sure that the microphone was working before it got to this point. We also had to listen to Warden Raybon clear his throat for what seemed like an hour. From the deep guttering guzzling noises, I suspected that he might have a gigantic octopus down there. After the death warrant was read, Warden Raybon shuffled the microphone over to Casey.

Even though he was lying down, Casey stood tall. “I would like to say to my mother and family that I love them, To the victim’s family, I’m sorry and I hope they find peace. It is not lost on me that a habitual abuser of women is carrying out this execution.” The microphone was quickly silenced. Everybody was reminded of the truth that Alabama has a habitual abuser of women as their executioner (someone who was previously fired from the State Patrol and eventually held to account in court for such actions). Warden Raybon shuffled to the control center in shame. Casey closed his eyes in triumph.

When he realized that the poison was starting to flow, Casey opened his eyes one last time and looked to the heavens and declared, “I’m coming home Lord. I’m coming home.” I never averted my eyes. I was fixated on the courage he was showing. It was incredible. After a few more minutes had passed, I approached him for a final prayer. Casey was barely awake. I could see him shifting his fingers a bit. I prayed just loud enough for him to hear me. “Don’t delay my friend. Go. You’re free now.” Not long after that, Casey gasped and breathed his last. It felt like every ounce of oxygen was sucked out of the room. I made the sign of the cross. Actually, I made the sign multiple times. I think I just wanted to remind the world that they were seeing a child of God being murdered. Maybe somebody might take a second to realize that what just happened might not flow with the Jesus that they’d claimed.

Captain McKenize loudly yelled Casey’s name and poked his face. He was being treated like a dog. They obviously thought that this was the best way to figure out if he was conscious or not. I’d never seen such ignorance in person. Even though he didn’t respond, I still wondered if he might still be breathing. When Casey didn’t respond, they declared the execution over. The time was 6:47pm. As I made one final sign of the cross, I was swiftly ushered out of the room. Later, I found out that the State of Alabama said that the time of death was 6:56pm. I couldn’t help but wonder if Casey might have still been alive when I left the room. If he wasn’t declared dead until later, is it possible they could have executed him after the execution? Though I’ll never know, I sure as hell didn’t trust any of the morally bankrupt idiots in there with him.

As I walked back through the holding area, ESPN was still blasting. Multiple members of the execution squad had never even stood up. The guards were interested in getting me out of there as quickly as possible. I of course wanted to remember as much as I could. The guard in front of me kept shooing cats out of the way. On the way out, we passed the visitation room. I’d spent so many hours in. I missed sitting with Casey there. Then, we went to the reception area to get my driver’s license and keys. Stacked behind everything was multiple trays of food that were for the party that the guards and prison employees were having after the execution. When I asked about it, the guard said that it was a time for them to celebrate, “a successful execution.”

Then, I was ushered into the night. It was cold. The last gate shut with a slam. The concrete felt so hard. The last thing the guard said was, “have a good rest of your night.” I walked across the parking lot, opened the car door, sat down and cried. There was nothing good.

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