The difference between murder and execution lies in the choreography. At least that’s the distinct impression left by the Tennessee Execution Manual, a grimly meticulous blueprint for killing the condemned.
A recent lawsuit filed by attorneys for death row inmate Abu-Ali Abdur’Rahman has unearthed this closely guarded government document published by the Tennessee Department of Correction (TDOC). Abdur’Rahman’s lawyers are challenging the humanity of the state’s lethal injection protocol, which the manual spells out. A sort of Little Instruction Book for carrying out executions, the manual is written with chilling detachment, reducing capital punishment to just another bureaucratic chore.
“The inmate will be dressed for the execution event in white scrub pants and shirt,” the document reads. “Cotton socks or cloth house shoes may be worn.”
Using a passive voice that makes the death penalty seem like an ordinary government function, the manual scripts every last detail. It covers, for example, when to close the curtains to the execution chamber and what happens if the inmate is more resilient than the state anticipated.
“The injection procedure will continue until all the chemicals have been injected into the condemned and the person is presumed dead,” notes the “Execution Day” section of the manual.
After the “procedure,” which the press, family members and relatives of the victim or victims have all witnessed, the manual mandates that the blinds and privacy curtains be lowered and the closed circuit television camera be turned off. The show is, for now, over. The physician, who for ethical reasons isn’t present during the execution—the Hippocratic oath, after all, is a promise to help save lives—is called into the room and asked to determine whether the inmate is dead. According to the manual, if the inmate has somehow survived the chemical onslaught, the physician returns to the waiting area and the state tries again. “The curtain will be opened, blinds raised and the warden shall give the command to repeat the injection procedure.” Then the physician returns and examines the inmate again.
Because any bureaucracy needs to keep records, TDOC officials are required to fill out what is called a “chronological execution report,” noting the times of each step in the procedure. In the case of a lethal injection, here’s how a sample report reads:
1. Inmate entered execution room.
2. Restraints placed on inmate.
3. IV systems in place.
4. Lethal injection chemicals injected.
5. Examined by physician.
6. Pronounced dead.
7. Body removed.
8. Body removed from institution.
So far, TDOC hasn’t exactly worn out its manual. The state has only executed one man in the last 40 years. But three others recently came within hours of their deaths before last-minute stays put those plans on hold. Abdur’Rahman is the next inmate sentenced to die; his execution by lethal injection is scheduled for June 18. Nearly 95 inmates wait on death row, almost all of them housed along a peaceful stretch of the Cumberland River at Nashville’s Riverbend Maximum Security Institution.
While TDOC’s manual may seem macabre, even Orwellian, an execution isn’t something officials can leave to improvisation. A scheduled execution triggers tremendous media scrutiny amid an anguished, heartbreaking setting. Any foul-up can embarrass the state, hurt the families of the victims or the inmate and cross the “cruel and unusual punishment” threshold. In the case of state-sponsored execution, it makes sense to sweat the small stuff. Besides, it’s worth pointing out that TDOC only enforces death penalty sentences; it doesn’t issue them.
Mike Dutton, the first warden at Riverbend and the superintendent of the Tennessee Correction Academy, where prison personnel are trained, wrote the manual nearly 20 years ago. TDOC updated it last summer and doesn’t typically release it to the public.
“For security reasons, you don’t want to have it floating around,” says Jennifer Johnson, TDOC spokeswoman.
Johnson says the point of the manual is to reduce the chances of any possible complications. “It was written to establish protocol, procedures and schedules for an execution. If you didn’t write it down, you’d be more likely to make a mistake and not follow the exact procedures.”
But while few could fault the state for scripting its executions, the stern reality of such a task isn’t lost on death penalty opponents.
To Michael Hodges, chairman of Vanderbilt University’s philosophy department, the manual illuminates the crassness of state-sponsored killing. “The grimness of it comes from the act itself,” he says. “It’s the willful killing of a human being, and we choreograph that killing down to the minutest detail.”
Still, he says, “If there’s a commitment to do this, then we want to be sure that it’s done in the most efficient and systematic way possible. We want to make sure that we don’t leave it up to individual decision because that would no doubt produce outrageous consequences.”
Those “minutest” details to which Hodges alludes include what happens after the execution. According to the manual, an “execution team” (the manual calls for many different teams) will “clean the equipment and death watch area. The holding cell shall be cleaned thoroughly with the mattress and pillow sanitized. Equipment shall be stored in its proper location. An entry shall be made in the...log documenting the completion of these procedures.”
Like any bureaucratic document, the execution manual also details carefully orchestrated roles for all the characters involved in the procedure. The warden has 15 listed responsibilities, including the major ones: selecting the executioner, signaling the executioner to proceed with the killing and announcing that the execution has been carried out. The deputy warden has 14 listed responsibilities, including ensuring an ambulance is available to remove the body and supervising the removal of the body from the execution chamber. The manual also outlines the tasks of the administrative assistant, public information officer and correctional chaplain.
TDOC also assigns one-time-only roles to a trio of correctional employees, including someone called a “death watch supervisor,” who inventories the inmate’s personal property and makes sure that the condemned has “sufficient clothing” in the right size. This unlucky middle manager is also supposed to supervise the feeding of all meals, to see that the inmate is handcuffed and that the holding area is “clean and orderly.” The manual also instructs the death watch supervisor to make sure “that the fire extinguisher is readily available and in serviceable condition,” presumably an indication of what can go wrong during an execution by electrocution.
Delineating a clear line of command, the manual outlines the role of a “control monitor” whose responsibilities seem to mirror those of the death watch supervisor. Someone called a “floor officer monitor” toils at the bottom of this correctional food chain, taking up the menial tasks that the management delegates to the rank and file. For example, it’s the floor officer monitor who’s charged with the unenviable task of conducting “a very thorough strip search of the inmate anytime he enters or exits the cell.”
Any kind of bonding between the staffer and the condemned could add an unpredictable human element to the process, so the execution manual outlines parameters on inmate/officer relationships. “You may converse freely with the inmate, but avoid opinionated or inflammatory statements,” the manual reads. “Do not discuss your personal feelings regarding the death penalty. Do not make promises to the inmate.”
The manual scripts the final details of the execution with the precision of a military planner. Ten minutes before the 1 a.m. execution time, and after staffers have checked the phone in the chamber, the TDOC commissioner contacts the Highway Patrol trooper on duty at the governor’s mansion. Assuming the governor has no second thoughts, five minutes later, at 12:55 a.m., a designated “extraction team” of prison officials takes over. At the command of the warden or deputy warden, the team will approach the holding cell and ask the condemned inmate to come to the cell door to be handcuffed. “After being handcuffed, he/she will be asked by the extraction team leader to step back and place his/her hands above his/her head on the wall at the rear of the holding cell. (If the condemned inmate refuses to cooperate, the extraction team will enter the holding cell and remove the inmate.)”
The team escorts the inmate from the cell to the gurney, secures the gurney and moves it to the execution chamber. The warden, deputy warden and chaplain accompany the inmate into the execution chamber, but the team and chaplain soon leave and return to the holding cell. In the event of a lethal injection, IV technicians will insert a catheter into each arm, attach the tubing and start an IV of saline solution. The IV team will then leave the execution chamber and return to the holding cell area. According to the manual, “the physician will be available in the holding cell area and will perform a...procedure if the IV technicians are unable to find a vein that is adequate enough to insert in the catheter.”
At that point, TDOC staff invites witnesses into the “official witness room” and activates the closed circuit television and audio system. The warden contacts the TDOC commissioner to make sure that no stays or respites have been granted. The inmate delivers a last statement, perhaps a belated confession, apology or last claim of innocence. The warden then delivers the signal to the executioner, which we learn may be either spoken or signaled. The doctor is called into the room.
The execution manual also provides advice to relatives of crime victims who may have witnessed the execution. It may be the only acknowledgment of the human dimension of capital punishment in the entire document. “After viewing the execution, a witness may experience post-trauma symptoms, such as any one or a combination of the following—sleeping difficulties, nightmares, depression, anger, irritability, fatigue, difficulty concentrating, intrusive thoughts, physical problems, marital stress and parenting difficulties. If a victim witness experiences any of these symptoms, he or she should contact a physician or a competent mental health provider.”
