Mr. Elliot Kramer was not present at Parchman. He had planned the trip for years, but his doctor intervened at the last moment. His heart was weak and it was just too risky. Ruth Kramer had never thought seriously of witnessing the execution. She was at home in Memphis, sitting with friends, waiting for it to end.
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 broadminded, 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.