There would be no more appeals, no more records to keep. I’m not sure why I was struck by these peculiar details. Maybe thinking about the procedural absurdities of the Court’s order was less overwhelming than thinking about its meaning. I had promised Herbert I would be with him during the execution, and it took me a few minutes to realize I needed to move quickly to get to the prison two hours away.
I jumped in my car and raced to Atmore. As I drove down the interstate to reach the prison, I noticed the long rays of sunlight retreating even as the heat of the Alabama summer persisted. When I arrived at the prison, it was completely dark. Outside the prison entrance were dozens of men with guns sitting on the backs of trucks that lined the long road to the prison parking area. They were state troopers, local police officers, deputy sheriffs, and what appeared to be part of a National Guard unit. I don’t know why the State felt they needed a militia to guard the entrance to the prison on the night of an execution. It was surreal to see all of these armed men gathered near midnight to make sure a life would be taken without incident. It fascinated me that someone thought there might be some violent, armed resistance to the scheduled execution of an indigent black man.
I entered the prison and saw an older white woman—the correctional officer who managed the visitation yard. I had become a regular at death row visiting my new clients at least once a month, so she saw me frequently but had never been particularly friendly. Tonight she approached me with unusual warmth and familiarity when I arrived. I thought she was going to hug me.
Men in suits and ties hovered in the lobby, eyeing me suspiciously as I walked into the visitation room at a little past nine. The visitation area at Holman is a large circular room surrounded by glass so that officers can look in from any vantage point. There are a dozen small tables with chairs inside for visiting family who come on visitation days, typically scheduled two or three times a month. During the week of a scheduled execution, only the condemned prisoner facing a scheduled death is permitted to have family visits.
When I got inside the visiting room, the family had less than an hour left with Herbert. He was calmer than I had ever seen him. He smiled at me when I walked in and gave me a hug.
“Hey y’all, this is my lawyer.”
He said it with a pride that was surprising and moving to me.
“Hello everyone,” I said. Herbert still had his arm around my shoulder, and I wanted to say something comforting but couldn’t think of anything before Herbert jumped in again.
“I told the prison people that I want all my possessions distributed just as I’ve said or my lawyer will sue you till you all have to work for him.” He chuckled, and people laughed.
I met Herbert’s bride and her family and spent the next forty-five minutes with one eye on the clock, knowing that at 10:00 P.M. the guards would take Herbert to the back, and we would never see him alive again. Herbert tried to keep things light. He told his family how he had persuaded me to take his case and bragged that I only represented people who were smart and charming.
“He’s too young to have represented me at trial, but if he had been there I wouldn’t be on death row now.” He said it with a smile, but I was starting to feel shaken. I was really struck at how hard he was working to make everyone around him feel better in the face of his own death. I had never seen him so energetic and gracious. His family and I smiled and laughed, but all of us felt the strain of the moment. His wife became more and more tearful as the minutes ticked away. Shortly before 10 P.M., the commissioner of the Alabama Department of Corrections, the warden, and several other men wearing suits gestured to the visitation officer. She came into the room meekly and regretfully said, “It’s time, folks. We’ve got to end the visit. Say your goodbyes.”
I watched the men in the hallway; they had clearly been expecting the officer to do something more decisive and effective. They wanted things to proceed on schedule and were clearly ready