Adolph was incensed by the angle Medellin was using, claiming he was a Mexican national, even though he spent as much time in the United States as he had in Mexico. “If that son of a bitch doesn’t like our laws over here, he shouldn’t have crossed the border. They want to kill people and get away with it and send them back over there because they don’t have a death penalty. If you don’t like our laws, don’t come to our country. That’s the bottom line.”
Andy Kahan added, “What’s so oxymoronic to me is that Bush, who presided over the state with the largest amount of executions—they were always calling Bush ‘the Executioner,’ flip-flops all of a sudden and then does a one-eighty. That really floored me.”
“It just pisses me off when I see that son of a bitch,” Adolph continued on about Bush. “I voted for him the first time.” He shook his head at the memory. “I didn’t vote for him the second time. That son of a bitch, I can’t stand to look at him because of what he is doing.”
Kahan also marveled: “I don’t think there has ever been a standing president that ever intervened in a death penalty case, with the exception of this.” Kahan again could not believe that another ridiculous obstacle had been thrown up in this case. “It’s just one thing on top of another.”
Chapter 48
December 29, 2005
The families of the girls finally had something to be thankful for after so many obstacles. Sean O’Brien lost his death penalty appeal. A judge set his execution date for May 16, 2006. The first execution of one of the girls’ killers would finally take place, almost thirteen years later.
Adolph and Melissa Pena, along with Randy Ertman, were already making plans to attend.
Despite being scheduled to die, O’Brien was still afforded the occasional perk. The biggest one was that he was allowed to marry a female pen pal from Finland.
Chapter 49
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Pena residence
Hockley, Texas
Two days before Sean O’Brien’s scheduled execution, he received a miracle from the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. His attorney filed a motion that claimed death by lethal injection should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. The basis for the argument was a recent scientific article that stated the painkilling drug in the lethal cocktail used to execute a prisoner wore off too quickly; as a result, the killer would feel too much pain.
The Penas and the Ertmans were flabbergasted. The roller coaster they had been on for almost thirteen years continued to give them whiplash at every turn.
Adolph Pena talked about gearing up to witness O’Brien’s execution. “We were ready. We thought it was a done deal.”
Originally, ABC affiliate channel 13 planned on following the Pena family around as they prepared to drive to Huntsville and view the execution of one of their daughter’s killers. A sort of “Day in the Life in the Viewing of an Execution.” It was sweeps month after all.
“They were going to do a feature,” Adolph recalled, “that would follow us throughout the day as we prepared to go to Huntsville to view O’Brien’s execution. They were going to come over here in the morning when we woke up and drank coffee.
“My wife was dreading that from day one. My brother and my sister-in-law were here. They didn’t want to have nothing to do with the media. I just told them to go upstairs and watch TV while we’re doing the interviews. Then we’ll get ready to go and they’ll get in the truck with us and head on over to Huntsville.”
Adolph’s sister-in-law begged off. “She started freaking out. She didn’t want to have anything to do with them.”
Andy Kahan was planning on heading over to the Penas for dinner. At approximately 3:00 P.M., he received another dreaded phone call. This from the county general’s office telling him that the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, by a vote of 5–4, decided they were going to take up the issue of lethal injection.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Kahan screamed into the phone. “They just made this decision two days ago on another case that a guy was just executed for, and now they want to take the issue up on this case!”
Once Kahan realized the decision was not a joke, he contacted Randy Ertman and Adolph Pena to break the bad news.
Adolph also received a call from Mark Garay, a reporter with channel 13 news division, who informed him he would not be coming over to shoot the piece.
Adolph was, however, interviewed by several local media outlets and he went off on the higher courts of Texas. “It wasn’t the first time,” he stated, unleashing on the Texas judicial system, “and it probably won’t be the last time.”
Soon thereafter, longtime Houston television newscaster Deborah Duncan called Adolph on the telephone.
“I’m glad you called me because I’ve got plenty of shit to say,” Adolph informed her in a very frustrated and angry tone. She asked him to come down to her studio, which he did, along with Kahan.
Once on the air, it was the same old saw repeated over and over again. “It was just mind-boggling to me that the court would make this type of decision.”
Kahan added, “We understand that the United States Supreme Court is going to take a look at this issue down the road, but why is a higher court in Texas, who already made a decision two days earlier on another case that wasn’t an issue, decide that this is the case that we’re going to make it an issue out of?”
Kahan later added, “This is the first time I have ever done this. I picked up the phone and I called two judges (involved in the decision). I was so livid.” Kahan contacted Judge Sharon Keller, who asked Kahan if he “would please tell everybody that [she] voted against this. Will [he] make sure everybody knows that?”
When Adolph heard Judge Keller’s comment, he offered, “Bless her soul.”
“Not even forty-eight hours later, not even two full days, they go back and reverse their decision,” Andy Kahan recalled of the court. “Again, I’ve never seen anything like that. And then they had to reset the date.”
The new date was July 11, 2006.
Chapter 50
Tuesday, July 11, 2006—6:00 P.M.
Walls Unit
Huntsville State Prison
Huntsville, Texas
“I knew it was going to happen this time,” Pena predicted. “I knew there was nobody gonna stop this thing now.”
The Penas made a day trip of it. When they arrived at Huntsville, the family was immediately escorted to a private holding room. Once inside, they were asked to remain quiet.
After several minutes of waiting, they were taken, this time, to the death house, also known as the Walls Unit. The family was taken to another big, large room near the warden’s office.
Adolph Pena had a quick laugh. “While we were waiting, they brought in these homemade cookies. They were made by the prisoners. They looked like something made in a gourmet shop. They call them ‘Condolence Cookies.’ Something about the other prisoners are sharing their condolences to us for the loss of our loved ones. The prisoners took the time out of their day to make cookies to give to us.”
Adolph was a bit hesitant to take a bite. “The prisoners made this?” he asked one of the guards. “You don’t think they put something in here, did they?”
The guard smiled and replied, “No, sir. I can guarantee you that there is nothing in there but cookie ingredients.”
Adolph smiled back and took a big bite of his Condolence Cookie. “Those were some damn good cookies.”
The staff also provided the family members with drinks, ranging from tea to soda to water. “They just really took care of us. They treated us like royalty. I had no idea they were going to treat us like that. They weren’t exceptionally nice, but they were real professional. Very, very professional.”
Sandra Ertman never had a desire to witness O’Brien’s execution. By the time it was finally set, and actually going to happen, even Randy Ertman started to balk at the idea.
Adolph, frankly, was surprised that Randy went. “He told me,
‘Oh, I might be fishing that day.’ I told him, ‘I’m figuring you’re gonna go to the execution, brother. Fishing’s going to be there every day. The execution, you ain’t gonna see one every day.’ Sure enough, he went.”
The victims’ family representatives who made it to the viewing were Adolph and Melissa Pena, Randy Ertman, and also Sergeant Ray Zaragoza, who worked on the case.
Despite all of his work and efforts to get the policy changed, and despite all of the support he lent the Pena and Ertmans families, Andy Kahan was not allowed to view the execution since he was not a member of the families.
The process for a victim’s family to be able to witness the execution of their loved one’s killer is fairly simple in Texas. The Texas Department of Corrections (TDC) sends the surviving family members documentation, which requests the name of three family members who want to view the execution. They fill out the documents and mail them back to TDC and wait until execution day.
Once the surviving family members arrive at the Walls Unit in Huntsville, they are treated with dignity and the utmost respect.
At about 4:30 or 5:00 P.M., the Pena and Ertman families were released from the large building for their “debriefing.” They were placed into a vehicle that shuttled them over to the Walls Unit, where the execution would actually take place. When the families of Elizabeth and Jennifer drove up to the Walls Unit, the streets were lined with other family members and friends of the girls. Several people were adorned in white T-shirts with a beautiful picture of Elizabeth that said JUSTICE FOR ELIZABETH. The crowd waved and smiled at the occupants of the transport vehicle.
The caravan pulled up right to the front of the Walls Unit, parked, and everyone stepped out of the vehicle. They had direct access to the entrance.
Everyone got out of the car and were greeted by their family and friends. They spent a few moments together just chitchatting, then the families were led inside the unit. At this point, Kahan was asked to remain back with the crowd. He complied and wished the Penas and Randy well.
Off they went inside. The members of the media were practically foaming at the mouth to get to the families. One reporter asked Adolph the typical lazy-reporter question, “How do you feel?”
“You don’t know how bad I’ve been wanting to do this number,” Adolph whispered to Randy as they walked in, ignoring the reporter. He decided to keep his real opinion close to the vest, as far as the media were concerned. He did not comment at all on the walk in, but he did look over at Houston news reporter Mark Garay and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
By the time they got inside the Walls Unit, it was approximately 5:00 P.M. All that was left to do was sit and wait for a last-minute phone call from Texas governor Rick Perry. As Adolph put it, “If you didn’t hear that red phone ring, buddy, your time’s up.”
The families were made to wait in a hallway located next to the execution chamber’s viewing room.
“That’s when I kind of started getting nervous,” recalled Adolph. “They were telling us to do this and don’t do that.” The process started to fade in and out of his consciousness. He was concerned O’Brien would get a last-second phone call. He hoped to God there was no final stay of execution. “I wanted to get the shit over with and make sure that damn phone didn’t ring.” Adolph shook his head. “I just knew that at any minute they were gonna do it again.”
Adolph, an avid fisherman, described his anxiety in angler terms. “It’s like waiting for that bobber to go up and down in the water. The anticipation of waiting for the fish to take the bait. You’re just sitting there waiting and watching it and watching it. I’m just sitting there literally watching that phone and waiting for it to ring.”
After a tension-filled hour, one of the guards came in and informed the families that the governor did not call. “Y’all can go in now.” The guard nodded toward the door to the viewing section of the execution chamber.
“It’s over now.” Adolph sighed. “I knew that there was no more stopping because there’s been so much bullshit that we’ve been through. It’ll make you old. Quick. This shit took its toll on us. It does. It does.”
The families made their way into the viewing room. The room was much larger than what Adolph had expected. “I thought we were going to be packed in there like sardines,” based on what the guards had told him. Instead, the room measured approximately twenty feet by six feet, and all of the witnesses on the girls’ side had plenty of room. There were no seats in the viewing room.
Located next to the victims’ families’ viewing room, but separated by a wall, is the killer’s family’s viewing room. Adolph was not sure, but he thought he spied O’Brien’s wife and his mother, Ella Jones.
As Adolph familiarized himself with the surroundings, he noticed a large glass window at the front and center of the room. Behind the window, he could see the reason why they were all brought together on this day: Sean O’Brien lay on his back on an elevated gurney. His arms and legs were all strapped in. He wore his thick studious-looking glasses. His feet were closest to the window, while his head was positioned farther away. O’Brien looked up toward the ceiling, ignoring the people being ushered in.
Adolph and Randy took their positions at the front of the glass window. Both men wanted to make sure that the last faces O’Brien saw were those of the fathers who had lost their little girls by his hands. They were joined up front by Officer Zaragoza. Melissa stood slightly behind, and to the side of her husband.
Warden Charles O’Reilly, who rarely comes into the chamber before an execution, made it a point to walk into the room and inspect O’Brien. O’Reilly moved toward the edge of the gurney, near O’Brien’s head.
Adolph was surprised by O’Reilly’s appearance in the chamber. “I surely didn’t expect to see him in there. I don’t know if it was because of the case, if it got to him, or what. But I was surprised. It must have affected him somehow.”
Adolph did, however, have another bout of anxiety. Unsure if the warden came in to pull the plug, Adolph recalled, “I kind of freaked out. I just thought there was going to be the preacher man and O’Brien. The preacher man was already in there. He was standing close to him with his Bible. But when the warden walked in, I thought, ‘Uh-oh, he’s putting a stop to this.’”
After nearly a minute with Warden O’Reilly standing next to O’Brien, Adolph felt a sense of relief. O’Reilly did not make any motions to indicate he was going to halt the execution. Instead, he looked at O’Brien and asked, “Do you have any last words?”
“I do,” O’Brien assured the warden. He craned his head up to make eye contact with the families of the girls. He quietly began to speak to the Penas and Randy Ertman. “I am sorry. I have always been sorry. It is the worst mistake that I ever made in my whole life. Not because I am here, but because of what I did and I hurt a lot of people—you, and my family. I am sorry. I have always been sorry. I am sorry.”
O’Brien turned away from the victims’ families and attempted to look in the general direction of his own family. “You look after each other. I love you all. Be there for one another. All right. But I am sorry, very sorry.”
O’Brien’s new wife mouthed, “I love you” to him through a stream of tears.
“I love you, too,” he said back to her in hushed tones.
“All right,” he declared, followed by a large sigh. He was ready.
Adolph believed Sean O’Brien’s sentiments were genuine. “I believe he really did mean that. You could see it in his eyes. He had hurt in his eyes. I don’t know if it was because he was going to die, or did he really mean it? But I believe he really did mean it.
“Just shortly after that, it had started.” Adolph watched the execution. “To actually see him sigh real big and then die . . . there is nothing inhumane about it.”
Conventional wisdom is that a death caused by lethal injection takes six to eight minutes for the prisoner to die. Adolph disagreed. “It just takes literally seconds for him to stop breathing. You k
now when it’s going in, because his body kind of freaks out. You see him gasping for air. He then said, ‘Wow,’ or something like that. He felt something when it went in. Then, right then, he just closed his eyes and he stopped moving. You couldn’t even see his stomach moving.
“I knew he was dead. He’s not breathing. That quick. I mean seconds. He was dead in twenty seconds. I guaran-damn-tee you, he was dead in twenty seconds. Because if you’re not breathing, I don’t know how you could be alive.”
After suffering through the stay of execution in May, due to a legal discussion as to whether or not death by lethal injection is considered to be inhumane, Adolph laughed. “The guy just closed his eyes and went to sleep. It’s pretty painless. For me and him.” He added, “Everything was by the book. It kind of freaked me out how smoothly it all went. It was a cakewalk.”
Adolph believed the punishment was too mild. “I wished to God that my daughter could have died that easy. Put a needle in her arm and just go to sleep. I wish to hell he could have died the way she died. That’s justice. You want to talk about justice? That would be justice.”
Adolph recalled that they did not stay in the viewing room very long. “I don’t think we were in there even five minutes. Then the warden walked out of the chamber. A guy came into the room where we were and told us to step out of the room.”
The families of the victims were the first to be released. O’Brien’s family was allowed to spend more time in their room.
After the families left the viewing area, they were whisked away across the street to the administrative building and an organized press conference set up inside a large room in the prison. Randy opted out, while Adolph agreed to attend. Melissa also opted out; however, she walked over with Adolph and stood next to him as he spoke. According to Adolph, “She ended up talking as well. I don’t remember what I said. I’m sure it was good.” Most of the local Houston television news stations were present, along with several cable news channels, including CNN.
Pure Murder Page 29