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“Oh, it’s hurting so bad.”
Three minutes after Byron Black began receiving a lethal dose of pentobarbital in the execution chamber at Riverbend Maximum Security Prison on Tuesday, he lifted his head off of the gurney he was strapped to and groaned. Whether it was the effects of the drug, which can cause pulmonary edema (or fluid in the lungs), or shocks to his heart from the defibrillator implanted in his chest, Black was in obvious distress. His spiritual adviser, the Rev. Monica Coakley, sang to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Just listen to my voice.”
Two minutes later, at 10:35 a.m., Black raised his head and groaned again before lying back and becoming unresponsive. At 10:43 a.m., a doctor pronounced him dead.
In March of 1988, Black shot his girlfriend and her two daughters; under today’s standard he would not be eligible for the death penalty
His attorney, federal public defender Kelley Henry, said at a press conference after exiting the prison that her 69-year-old client had been “tortured.”
The execution was carried out more than 35 years after Black was convicted and sentenced to death in Nashville for the murders of his girlfriend Angela Clay and her daughters, Latoya and Lakeisha. Black was on furlough from a Nashville jail facility when the murders occurred, and Clay had reportedly been considering reconciling with her estranged husband, Bennie Clay. Black had been sentenced to two years in jail for shooting Bennie Clay during an altercation the year before.
Henry had warned in court and in the media that Black’s defibrillator was likely to shock him repeatedly during the lethal injection if it was not properly deactivated, and the state attorney general’s office never contested Black’s medical experts. The Tennessee Supreme Court ruled last month that the state could kill him without deactivating his defibrillator.
“Today, the state of Tennessee killed a gentle, kind, fragile, intellectually disabled man in violation of the laws of our country simply because they could,” Henry said after the execution, reading from a written statement. “No one in a position of power, certainly not the courts, was willing to stop them.”
Henry’s formal statement came after she fought back tears while relaying what she’d witnessed during the execution of a man she represented for 25 years. The people who made it possible, she said, “should feel shame.” Black, she said, had asked her to express his gratitude to his family, supporters and even the prison staff who had shown him kindness in his final days.
Oscar Smith and Byron Black could be executed before a court reviews Tennessee’s new lethal injection protocol
“Byron left this world with words of grace, mercy and love,” Henry said, “I wish I could share these sentiments. I do not. The state of Tennessee heartlessly and intentionally traumatized a second family today. A family that matters. A family that is devastated. May God have mercy on their souls. I know that he has mercy for Byron.”
A group of Angela Clay’s family also witnessed the execution and spoke through Abigail Dyer, a victim witness coordinator for the Tennessee Department of Correction.
“I thank God for this day, a day that was a long time coming," Dyer said in a statement provided by the family. "This was 37 years too late.”
Demonstrators gathered in a fenced-in field adjacent to the prison, separated by prison officials into “pro-death penalty” and “anti-death penalty” groups. Approximately 25 people, including leaders of the nonprofit group Death Penalty Action, death row visitors and religious leaders who opposed Black’s execution, participated in a liturgy for him that included prayers for the Clay victims and family.
“We pray for Angela Clay and her daughters Latoya and Lakeisha Clay, who died violent deaths,” read one portion of the liturgy. “Lift them to eternal peace, and grant that their goodness may continue to shine in those they loved.”
Relatives of the Clay family made up the “pro-death penalty” group, including Clay family cousins Nicoule Davis and Sharonda Page. Davis, who recalled playing with Latoya and Lakeisha Clay as a child, called the execution day a “celebration” that had been “a long time coming.”
Metro Councilmember Delishia Porterfield demonstrated alongside opponents and told the Banner she was there because she opposed state executions. She said she was grieving for both families involved.
Before the 1989 trial, Black’s original attorney argued he was mentally incompetent for the proceedings, and that issue surfaced again in recent years as Black faced multiple execution dates. His intellectual disability was so well-documented — tests over the years found his IQ to be below 70 — that state attorneys had stipulated in a court filing that he would be deemed ineligible for the death penalty if a new hearing were held. Davidson County District Attorney Glenn Funk asked a judge to vacate Black’s death sentence in 2022 for the same reason.
But courts denied Black’s appeals on that issue because the state’s current intellectual disability law does not apply to people who have had their competence adjudicated previously. His mental capacity had only been further diminished due to dementia.
Black’s legal team also raised alarms about his physical condition as the execution date approached. He had been diagnosed with end-stage kidney disease and congestive heart failure. Doctors had placed an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator in his chest last year to treat his heart condition. Black had been rendered essentially immobile in recent years.
Black’s day began at 4:45 a.m. with a final meal of pizza with mushrooms and sausage, followed by doughnuts and butter pecan ice cream. According to Henry, he participated in a church service in his cell. Other death row inmates reported seeing him wheeled off to death watch two weeks ago, and Henry said Tuesday that two prison guards had to hold him up as they took him to the gurney before his execution.
He was wheeled from his cell to the execution chamber at 10:07 a.m., where correctional officers placed two tight straps across his chest and taped his arms out from his side onto extensions for his IVs. His hands were heavily wrapped in tape to prevent movement. According to Henry, medical personnel had trouble finding the veins in both of his arms, leading to a puddle of blood on his right side. She said it took 10 minutes for the tubes to be attached, which first brought saline and then pentobarbital.
As a sheet was placed over most of his body, Coakley told him, “You’re almost home.”
Fourteen minutes later, he was.
This article first appeared on Nashville Banner and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
