Disir
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- Sep 30, 2011
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Finally Lockett managed to speak: “Man.”
Zellmer had seen enough. He came to the gurney and lifted the sheet. Underneath, he saw a protrusion almost the size of a tennis ball on Lockett’s groin.
From the viewing area, Katie Fretland could see the doctor’s face for the first time, and his expression was clear: Oh, fuck. Another witness saw Lockett open his eyes and look right at the doctor, like something out of a horror movie.
The warden glanced under the sheet and noticed what looked like blood and clear liquid pooled around Lockett’s groin. She looked up and addressed the witnesses: “We’re going to lower the blinds, temporarily.”
From the chemical room, the paramedic heard someone say, “He’s trying to get off the table!” She came into the death chamber as the doctor was trying to figure out how to finish the execution.
“I need to get another IV in the left femoral,” Zellmer told her. She swabbed Lockett’s groin with a sterile pad.
“Take deep breaths,” the paramedic told Lockett, in case he could hear her, while Zellmer pushed the short needle back into Lockett’s groin. Blood squirted all over Zellmer, so much of it that it soaked his jacket.
“You’ve hit the artery,” the paramedic said.
“It’ll be all right,” Zellmer told her. “We’ll go ahead and get the drugs.”
Did he intend to put drugs in an artery? The paramedic didn’t want to countermand the doctor’s authority, but that made no sense. “We’ve got to get the vein,” she said. The doctor pulled out the needle.
Lockett mumbled incoherently. His heart rate dropped into the teens as more of the potassium chloride that had been pumped into his groin seeped into his bloodstream. Eventually, the doctor and the paramedic stopped what they were doing.
The warden asked whether it would be possible to resuscitate Lockett. Zellmer said he could start CPR, but that in order to save him, they’d have to take him to an emergency room. This further confused the paramedic. He’s dying, she thought. Isn’t that why we’re here?
Stephanie Neiman’s family was in shock. After the blinds came down, prison staff took them to a rec room and tried to console them. While Neiman’s mother, Susie, wept, someone from the state attorney general’s office tried to explain what had happened, something about Lockett’s heart and a vein exploding. Susie said she wanted to go into the chamber and touch Lockett; otherwise she couldn’t know for sure that her daughter’s killer was dead.
Fretland and the other reporters felt almost as stunned. In the viewing area, a black telephone she hadn’t noticed before started ringing. Robert Patton, the Oklahoma Department of Corrections director, picked it up and left the room, pulling the phone cord out into the hall and closing the door behind him.
Warden Trammell was calling from the death chamber. Patton asked her, “Has enough drugs been administered to cause death?” He heard Trammell repeat the question. He heard the doctor say no.
“Is there another vein available, and if so do you have another set of chemicals back there?” Again, Trammell repeated the question; again the doctor said no.
“I wanna be real clear with this, Warden, and I want you to ask the doctor specifically. Has enough drugs entered the inmate’s system to cause death?” A third time, he heard Trammell repeat the question. A third time, the answer was no.
Patton hung up the phone and huddled in the hallway with the state secretary of safety and security and two members of the attorney general’s office. Someone briefly floated the idea of using the drugs reserved for Charles Warner’s execution. Patton spoke on the phone with the governor’s general counsel, Steve Mullins, in Oklahoma City.
Mullins asked Patton, “Do you want to stop the execution?”
“Yes.”
“You have the authority to stop the execution,” he told Patton.
When they hung up, Mullins called the governor—the basketball game was now an hour from tip-off—to brief her.
At 6:56, a call came in to the death chamber. Patton had instructions for the warden. He said something like “stand down,” which Trammell didn’t quite understand.
“Do you mean to stop?”
Yes, he said, stop the execution.
The Execution of Clayton Lockett - The Atlantic
Another long read. We are going to be doing this topic until June prolly.
Zellmer had seen enough. He came to the gurney and lifted the sheet. Underneath, he saw a protrusion almost the size of a tennis ball on Lockett’s groin.
From the viewing area, Katie Fretland could see the doctor’s face for the first time, and his expression was clear: Oh, fuck. Another witness saw Lockett open his eyes and look right at the doctor, like something out of a horror movie.
The warden glanced under the sheet and noticed what looked like blood and clear liquid pooled around Lockett’s groin. She looked up and addressed the witnesses: “We’re going to lower the blinds, temporarily.”
From the chemical room, the paramedic heard someone say, “He’s trying to get off the table!” She came into the death chamber as the doctor was trying to figure out how to finish the execution.
“I need to get another IV in the left femoral,” Zellmer told her. She swabbed Lockett’s groin with a sterile pad.
“Take deep breaths,” the paramedic told Lockett, in case he could hear her, while Zellmer pushed the short needle back into Lockett’s groin. Blood squirted all over Zellmer, so much of it that it soaked his jacket.
“You’ve hit the artery,” the paramedic said.
“It’ll be all right,” Zellmer told her. “We’ll go ahead and get the drugs.”
Did he intend to put drugs in an artery? The paramedic didn’t want to countermand the doctor’s authority, but that made no sense. “We’ve got to get the vein,” she said. The doctor pulled out the needle.
Lockett mumbled incoherently. His heart rate dropped into the teens as more of the potassium chloride that had been pumped into his groin seeped into his bloodstream. Eventually, the doctor and the paramedic stopped what they were doing.
The warden asked whether it would be possible to resuscitate Lockett. Zellmer said he could start CPR, but that in order to save him, they’d have to take him to an emergency room. This further confused the paramedic. He’s dying, she thought. Isn’t that why we’re here?
Stephanie Neiman’s family was in shock. After the blinds came down, prison staff took them to a rec room and tried to console them. While Neiman’s mother, Susie, wept, someone from the state attorney general’s office tried to explain what had happened, something about Lockett’s heart and a vein exploding. Susie said she wanted to go into the chamber and touch Lockett; otherwise she couldn’t know for sure that her daughter’s killer was dead.
Fretland and the other reporters felt almost as stunned. In the viewing area, a black telephone she hadn’t noticed before started ringing. Robert Patton, the Oklahoma Department of Corrections director, picked it up and left the room, pulling the phone cord out into the hall and closing the door behind him.
Warden Trammell was calling from the death chamber. Patton asked her, “Has enough drugs been administered to cause death?” He heard Trammell repeat the question. He heard the doctor say no.
“Is there another vein available, and if so do you have another set of chemicals back there?” Again, Trammell repeated the question; again the doctor said no.
“I wanna be real clear with this, Warden, and I want you to ask the doctor specifically. Has enough drugs entered the inmate’s system to cause death?” A third time, he heard Trammell repeat the question. A third time, the answer was no.
Patton hung up the phone and huddled in the hallway with the state secretary of safety and security and two members of the attorney general’s office. Someone briefly floated the idea of using the drugs reserved for Charles Warner’s execution. Patton spoke on the phone with the governor’s general counsel, Steve Mullins, in Oklahoma City.
Mullins asked Patton, “Do you want to stop the execution?”
“Yes.”
“You have the authority to stop the execution,” he told Patton.
When they hung up, Mullins called the governor—the basketball game was now an hour from tip-off—to brief her.
At 6:56, a call came in to the death chamber. Patton had instructions for the warden. He said something like “stand down,” which Trammell didn’t quite understand.
“Do you mean to stop?”
Yes, he said, stop the execution.
The Execution of Clayton Lockett - The Atlantic
Another long read. We are going to be doing this topic until June prolly.
