Chamber

bottom, and it's directly behind the chair. Just about the time Meeks got still and everybody thought he was dead, his head started banging back and forth, striking this pole, just beating it like hell. His eyes were rolled back, his lips were wide open, he was foaming at the mouth, and there he was beating the back of his head in on this pole. It was sick.'

 'How long did it take to kill him?'

 'Who knows. According to the prison doctor, death was instant and painless. According to some of the eyewitnesses, Meeks convulsed and heaved and pounded his head for five minutes.'

 The Meeks execution had provided death penalty abolitionists with much ammunition. There was little doubt he had suffered greatly, and many accounts were written of his death. Sam's version was remarkably consistent with those of the eyewitnesses.

 'Who told you about it?' Adam asked.

 'A couple of the guards talked about it. Not to me, of course, but word spread quickly. There was a public outcry, which would've been even worse if Meeks hadn't been such a despicable person. Everyone hated him. And his little victim had suffered greatly, so it was hard to feel sympathetic.'

 'Where were you when he was executed?'

 'In my first cell, Tier D, on the far side away from the chamber. They locked everybody down that night, every inmate at Parchman. It happened just after midnight, which is sort of amusing because the state has a full day to carry out the execution. The death warrant does not specify a certain time, just a certain day. So these gong-ho bastards are just itching to do it as soon as possible. They plan every execution for one minute after midnight. That way, if there's a stay, then they have the entire day for their lawyers to get it lifted. Buster Moac went down that way. They strapped him in at midnight, then the phone rang and they took him back to the holding room where he waited and sweated for six hours while the lawyers ran from one court to the next. Finally, as the sun was rising, they strapped him in for the last time. I guess you know what his last words were.'

 Adam shook his head. 'I have no idea.'

 'Buster was a friend of mine, a class guy. Naifeh asked him if he had any last words, and he said yes, as a matter of fact, he did have something to say. He said the steak they'd cooked for his last meal was a bit too rare. Naifeh mumbled something to the effect that he'd speak to the cook about it. Then Buster asked if the governor had granted a last minute pardon. Naifeh said no. Buster then said, `Well, tell that son of a bitch he's lost my vote.' They slammed the door and gassed him.'

 Sam was obviously amused by this, and Adam was obliged to offer an awkward laugh. He looked at his legal pad while Sam lit another cigarette.

 Four years after the execution of Teddy Doyle Meeks, the appeals of Maynard Tole reached a dead end and it was time for the chamber to be used again. Tole was a Kravitz & Bane pro bono project. A young lawyer named Peter Wiesenberg represented Tole, under the supervision of E. Garner Goodman. Both Wiesenberg and Goodman witnessed the execution, which in many ways was dreadfully similar to Meeks'. Adam had not discussed the Tole execution with Goodman, but he'd studied the file and read the

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 eyewitness accounts written by Wiesenberg and Goodman.

 'What about Maynard Tole?' Adam asked.

 'He was an African, a militant who killed a bunch of people in a robbery and, of course, blamed everything on the system. Always referred to himself as an African warrior. He threatened me several times, but for the most part he was just selling wolf.'

 'Selling wolf?'

 'Yeah, that means a guy is talking bad, talking trash. It's common with the Africans. They're all innocent, you know. Every damned one of them. They're here because they're black and the system is white, and even though they've raped and murdered it's someone else's fault. Always, always someone else's fault.'

 'So you were happy when he went?'

 'I didn't say that. Killing is wrong. It's wrong for the Africans to kill. It's wrong for the Angles to kill. And it's wrong for the people of the State of Mississippi to kill death row inmates. What I did was wrong, so how do you make it right by killing me?'

 'Did Tole suffer?'

 'Same as Meeks. They found them a new executioner and he got it right the first time. The gas hit Tole and he went into convulsions, started banging his head on the pole just like Meeks, except Tole evidently had a harder head because he kept beating the pole with it. It went on and on, and finally Naifeh and the goon squad got real anxious because the boy wouldn't die and things were getting sloppy, so they actually made the witnesses leave the witness room. It was pretty nasty.'

 'I read somewhere that it took ten minutes for him to die.'

 'He fought it hard, that's all I ,know. Of course, the warden and his doctor said death was instant and painless. Typical. They did, however, make one slight change in their procedure after Tole. By the time they got to my buddy Moac, they had designed this cute little head brace made of leather straps and buckles and attached to that damned pole. With Moac, and later with jumbo Parris, they belted their heads down so tight there was no way they could flop around and whip the pole. A nice touch, don't you think? That makes it easier on Naifeh and the witnesses because now they don't have to watch as much suffering.'

 'You see my point, Sam? It's a horrible way to die. We attack the method. We find witnesses who'll testify about these executions and we try to convince a judge to rule the gas chamber unconstitutional.'

 'So what? Do we then ask for lethal injection? What's the point? Seems kind of silly for me to say I prefer not to die in the chamber, but, what the hell, lethal injection will do just fine. Put me on the gurney and fill me up with drugs. I'll be dead, right? I don't get it.'

 'True. But we buy ourselves some time. We'll attack the gas chamber, get a temporary stay, then pursue it through the higher courts. We could jam this thing for years.'

 'It's already been done.'

 'What do you mean it's already been done?' 'Texas, 1983. Case called Larson. The same arguments were made with no result. The court said gas chambers have been around for fifty years, and they've proven themselves quite efficient at killing humanely.'

 'Yeah, but there's one big difference.'

 'What?'

 'This ain't Texas. Meeks and Tole and Moac and Parris weren't gassed in Texas. And, by the way, Texas has already gone to lethal injection. They threw away their gas chamber because they found a better way to kill. Most gas chamber states have traded them in for better technology.'

 Sam stood and walked to the other end of the table. 'Well, when it's my time, I damned sure want to go with the latest technology.' He paced along the table, back and forth three or four times, then stopped. 'It's eighteen feet from one end of this room to the other. I can walk eighteen feet without hitting bars. Do you realize what it's like spending twenty-three hours a day in a cell that's six feet by nine? This is freedom, man.' He paced some more, puffing as he came and went.

 Adam watched the frail figure bounce along the edge of he table with a trail of smoke behind him. He had no socks and wore navy-colored rubber shower shoes that squeaked when he paced. He suddenly stopped, yanked a book from a shelf, threw it hard on the table, and began flipping pages with a flourish. After a few minutes of intense searching, he found exactly what he was looking for and spent five minutes reading it.

 'Here it is,' he mumbled to himself. 'I knew I'd read this before.'

 'What is it?'

 'A 1984 case from North Carolina. The man's name was Jimmy Old, and evidently Jimmy did not want to die. They had to drag him into the chamber, kicking and crying and screaming, and it took a while to strap him in. They slammed the door and dropped the gas, and his chin crashed onto his chest. Then his head rolled back and began twitching. He turned to the witnesses who could see nothing but the whites of his eyeballs, and he began salivating. His head rocked and swung around forever while his body shook and his mouth foamed. It went on and on, and one of the witnesses, a journalist, vomited. The warden got fed up with it and closed the black curtains so the witnesses couldn't see anymore. They estimate it took fourteen minutes for Jimmy Old to die.'

 'Sounds cruel to me.'

 Sam closed the book and placed it carefully onto the shelf. He lit a cigarette and studied the ceiling. 'Virtually