​July 9, 2024

 

Incessantly, David Hosier swore to me that he didn’t kill Angela or Rodney Gilpin.  I never figured out the truth.  I still don’t know.  The only thing that became certain for me was that David believed wholeheartedly in his innocence.  To best serve David, I had to join him in his truth.  So, that’s where I went.  We journeyed together from where he was.  Surely, that’s the only place that any of us can journey from.  We are where we are.

 

Begin we did.  In the span of a few short months, David and I grew incredibly close.  I advocated for him wherever I could find a hearing.  The success I found birthed a variety of opportunities for David to tell his story.  While I’m not sure that the telling of the story answered too much about the case, I do know that David’s story brought people to a deeper understanding of his humanity.  By the time he was executed, a great many knew that he was a real person.

 

Indeed, David touched people.  I’m proud to have played a small part in getting him to such a place.  If we could just see each other, there would be no more executions.

 

The Rev. Dr. Jeff Hood

 

 

 

May 1, 2024

 

The Narrative of David Hosier: A Claim of Innocence

 

 

*This edited narrative is the product of a conversation between David Hosier and his spiritual advisor, The Rev. Dr. Jeff Hood.  Hosier desired to produce this narrative so that people could clearly hear his side of the story during the clemency process and as a potential execution date approaches on June 11.

 

I was introduced to Angie Gilpin by a friend that I used to work with at the Jefferson City Fire Department.  We often went out to a particular bar.  I’d go in there to shoot pool and listen to country music.  On Friday and Saturday nights, they’d often have a band, and we’d just dance and enjoy the music.  Angie and I really enjoyed each other’s company and one thing led to another.  I knew she was married…but it didn’t seem like a big deal because she said they were separated.  His name was Rodney Gilpin and I knew him too.  Believe it or not, we were actually friendly with each other.

 

We ended up going together for almost two years.  Then, she suddenly went back to her husband.  Honestly, it’d have been fine if she’d had the decency to give me sort of explanation.  Then, she started accusing me of all sorts of stuff.  It was unbelievably frustrating.  But I just tried to put it behind me and move on.

 

I had no contact with Angie or Rodney in September of 2009.  I was doing everything I could to just ignore all the stuff that she was accusing me of.  It was slanderous.  Stalking.  Stealing.  Assault.  Anything and everything she could think of.  None of it was true.  I was doing my best to ignore it.  I was desperately trying to move back to my hometown in Indiana.  I just wanted to get away from all the mess.

 

While I was up there visiting, I got a call from a police officer.  Angie was making even more accusations.  She was going completely nuts.  Next thing you know, I’m getting phone calls from my landlord telling me that if I don’t get my stuff out of my apartment by the end of the month, he’s going to throw it out on the street.  I had a huge gun collection that was worth a great deal of money that I didn’t want to part with.  So, I rushed back into town and loaded the collection into my car.

 

Desperate to clear my head, I decided to go for a long drive.  I was so exhausted.  I just needed the wind and the radio.  After a few hours, I ended up in Oklahoma.  I really didn’t know where I was when I got pulled over.  They said that Jefferson City, Missouri wanted me and that I was going to be taken to the Erickson County Jail in Tahlequah, Oklahoma.  I had no clue what was going on.  Later, I’m sitting in jail. The police came in and asked a few questions.  Immediately, I felt like I needed a lawyer.  On Wednesday, they take me to court.  I found out that I was being charged with felony fleeing.  They asked me if I had an attorney or a representation. I said, no.  So, they postponed the hearing and said that they’d get me a court-appointed attorney.  They loaded me back up, and took me back to the jail.  Friday morning, two US marshals grabbed me, stuck me in a van and we were off to federal court in Muskogee, Oklahoma.  The new charge was felony possession of ammunition.  That’s when I found out that Angie and Rodney had been murdered in Jefferson City.  Unbelievably, it slowly became clear that I was a suspect.

 

For weeks, I was shuttled around federal prisons throughout Oklahoma until I was finally sent to a federal facility in Morgan County, Missouri.  On November 5, the feds dropped the gun charge.  Morgan County notified Cole County (Jefferson City) that if they still wanted me then they needed to come pick me up.  No answer.  I sat there and I sat there.  They were unquestionably abusing the idea of a detainer.  Then, I was told that they finally had produced a warrant for my arrest.  They’re supposed to charge you within 72 hours of your detainment.  Well, I sat in the Morgan County jail for 33 days.  I have no doubt that they were spending all that time planting false evidence and creating their narrative.  There was chatter about what I was accused of…but I didn’t know the full extent.  I called lawyers and nobody helped.  There was nothing that anyone could do.  I was just left to sit there.

 

Then, I was officially arrested and charged with the murders.  A public defender showed up.  He had unquestionably drunk his lunch.  I knew that the fix was in.  I had no idea how I was going to beat this.  I just knew that I didn’t kill anybody.

 

I sat in the county jail for almost four years.  The entire time I was represented by people who were getting paid by the same people who were trying to execute me.  I just kept getting put off.  The investigators wouldn’t talk to me.  They kept saying that the things they found were confidential.  It was my case!?!?!  It was all a fix.

 

I felt like I was being punished for being somewhat of a loner.  I’d always just come and went as I pleased.  I never reported my comings and goings to anybody.  We live in a free country.  If I choose to go for a ride, what difference should it make?  I was just trying to relax.  Now, I was being punished for driving.  They had no witnesses…no physical evidence…nothing to put me at the scene of the crime.  I’m guilty for having gone for a drive?!?!  They twisted everything so bad.  Even the search warrant for the crime scene was dated eight days before the crime ever occurred.  How is that even possible?  What is more, I was in Indiana at that time.  If they get to make up the rules as they go, then how can I ever properly defend myself?

 

My attorneys bent over backward to not make the prosecutors mad.  It’s as if that was the only thing they cared about.  I knew I didn’t have a chance.  But I prayed like I did.  Repeatedly, the prosecutors hurled innuendoes and insults to see what would stick.  I emerged from all of their vileness a monster.  I don’t lie.  They said I did…and everybody just believed them.  Hearsay evidence sprayed in from every direction.  One prosecutor declared my rights null and void since they “knew” I killed Angie and Rodney.  I was convicted before the trial even started.  Ultimately, I was only tried on one murder.  They do that so that they have another chance if something goes wrong on the first one.  Basically, they get two shots at the same crime.  It’s not fair.  They got to say the entire time that I killed two people when I was only being tried for one.  But nothing is fair about any of the process.  That’s why I’m where I am.

 

I wasn’t in the city.  I wasn’t in the county.  I wasn’t even in Missouri.  I was nowhere near these murders.  But the prosecutors got to turn me into a monster…and my lawyers didn’t do anything about it.

 

I think about Angie and Rodney all the time.  I wish we all knew what happened to them.  They didn’t deserve any of this.  Whoever did this to them deserves to be punished to the fullest extent of the law…but that someone ain’t me.

 

How can someone be found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt and sentenced to die when there are no witnesses, no DNA, no fingerprints, no trace evidence or anything else?  I tried to express myself in court.  Nobody would listen.

 

I know what it feels like to lose someone.  My father was an Indiana State Police Officer.  He was killed in the line of duty.  I wouldn’t wish that upon anybody.  There is no possible way that I’d ever kill someone.

 

This is no longer just about my life.  This is about the truth.  Are there any honest people left in Missouri?  Wake up!  You’re about to execute an innocent man.

 

Sign David’s petitions for clemency @ 

 

Missourians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty:   https://madp.salsalabs.org/ClemencyForDavidHosier/index.html

 

Death Penalty Action:   https://actionnetwork.org/petitions/stop-the-execution-of-david-hosier-in-missouri/

 

 

May 17, 2024

 

DAVID HOSIER is DYING / Who’s “Backing the Blue” Now?

 

 

Yesterday, I received a phone call from David Hosier telling me that he has gone into acute heart failure.  Even if David wasn’t scheduled to be executed next month, x-rays of his chest and abdomen have confirmed that he is not long for this world.  Presently, he’s in an outside hospital struggling to move, eat or breathe and filled with fluid.  Based on his current condition, it is possible that he might be bedridden for the foreseeable future.  The State of Missouri seems to be pursuing medical treatment for one reason and one reason only, so that they can execute David on June 11.

 

After Indiana State Patrol Sergeant Glenn Hosier was murdered, the “Back the Blue” crowd neglected to stand with his son David in life.  Will they also now neglect David in death?

 

Before I learned of the severity of David’s condition, I wrote the following concerning the hypocrisy of those who claim to “Back the Blue” amid his impending execution.

 

Let me be perfectly clear, I hate the police.  Not necessarily particular police officers or those close to them.  I hate what seems to be the prevailing iteration of modern policing, the unrestrained lawless collective that seems to target those with the least.  I find the fact that we empower certain citizens to treat other citizens however they please with little to no consequence to be particularly problematic.  If my juxtaposition isn’t clear, I’m a fierce activist against police brutality.  So much so, I was at the center of one of the deadliest moments in the struggle.

 

Imagine.  July 7, 2016.  In response to the murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castille, I’d organized a rally and march in Dallas, Texas.  Our rhetoric was hot.  Still, everything was relatively peaceful.  Shots rang out.  I was close enough that I instinctively grabbed my chest.  In the distance, I saw officers drop.  Turning around, I did everything I could to get people out.  By the end of the night, the full scope of the moment was clear.  Five police officers dead.  Dozens injured.  The assailant coopted our protest to unleash his terror.  For days, I appeared extensively in the media.  Ever since the terror of it all, I’ve struggled with what I could have done differently to save the lives of those officers.  It’s hard to stop one lunatic with a gun.  Even though my feelings about police brutality remain as fierce as they did that night, those five officers are never far from my mind.  Parts of me will forever remain in Dallas.  Yet, the rest of the world moved on long ago.

 

Public tragedies are bizarre.  One moment, everybody cares.  The next moment, nobody can even remember the details of what happened.  I experienced it in Dallas.  I experience it now.

 

When I met David Hosier several months ago, I met someone who’d also left parts of himself at the scene of a bygone tragedy.  The scene was the death of his father.  On April 26, 1971, Indiana State Police Sergeant Glen Hosier died from a gunshot sustained while trying to apprehend a murder suspect.  Following that tragedy, everybody said they’d be there for David.  Especially, those who declared the most fidelity to “Backing the Blue.”  However, few followed through.  The neglect has created a life of struggle.  Now, David is 69.

 

On June 11, 2024, the State of Missouri is scheduled to execute David Hosier for the 2009 murder of his former lover, Angela Gilpin.  It was also heavily implied that Hosier killed her husband, Rodney Gilpin.  One could fill many shelves with the transcripts and briefs constructed about this case.  Throughout the legal process, David has maintained his innocence, even rejecting a plea for a life sentence.  Despite a conviction and death sentence, there are questions that remain.  There were no eyewitnesses.  There was little physical evidence.  During mitigation, no doctors or psychiatrists examined David.  The State relied primarily on an assumed motive, David was fiercely angry that Angela had left him and was determined to get even.  Even if it’s all true, the case can’t be extracted from the broader trajectory of David’s life.  What if the “Back the Blue” crowd had been there for David like they promised they would be?

 

None of this seems to create the moral or ethical room to justify the bizarre act of using public resources to strap a defenseless old man to a gurney and pumping him full of poison until he’s dead.  But I’m sure that most of those more determined than I to “Back the Blue” would disagree.

 

Indeed, the “Back the Blue” folks are determined to make anyone with a suggestion of blood on their hands pay the ultimate price.  But how could they take such a bloody stance in the case of David Hosier?  This is a child of a fallen officer.  Do the “Back the Blue” folks not see their complicity in the events surrounding this case?  I thought “Blue Lives Matter”?  I thought the pledge was to leave no family member of the fallen behind?  I suspect that such talk is nothing more than “Back the Blue” bluster.  I’d love to be wrong.  I’d love to see the “Back the Blue” crowd arise and commit to trying to save David.  Not because of how they felt one way or another about David’s case, but because they’re honest in their stated unwavering intention and determination to support families of fallen officers.  Don’t you think some type of effort to save his son is what Sergeant Hosier would want?

 

 

May 20, 2024

 

Preparing for the Next US Execution: David Hosier June 11

 

*I serve as David Hosier’s spiritual advisor.  I will be with him in his final days and accompany him to the execution chamber on June 11.

 

David Hosier will be executed on June 11.  It’s beginning to look inevitable.  Though I pray for a miracle, I can’t let myself believe it’s possible.  If I did, I would never be able to prepare myself for what I must do.  In the coming days, my job is to prepare David for the end.  You can’t prepare someone for the end by pretending that the end isn’t coming.  Some might challenge me.  I can hear it.  “Where’s the faith in that?”

Amid hard truths that accompany executions, I don’t have the luxury of pretending that the horrors aren’t real.  The execution machine is already cranked up and prepared to devour David.  What am I supposed to do?  Trick my brain into thinking that maybe the State of Missouri might lose the keys?  I can’t live like that.  David can’t either.

We cannot be governed by the fantasies of wishful thinking nor the tyranny of systems of injustice, we must chart our own way.  Fantasies pull us from being present in the present.  Those that I have seen spend their time thinking that they wouldn’t be executed, are most terrified when the execution happens.  Peace is not a fantasy.  Indeed, peace is something that is earned in the difficulty of each second.  We can’t dream away our circumstances, but we can work to not be defined by them.  We can be present despite the temptation to be everything but present.

David and I are facing the reality of what is.  Tyrannical systems of injustice are worthy of our rage.  We should burn hot when societies take it upon themselves to murder defenseless people strapped to gurneys simply because we find them murderable.  We should rage simply because the system is so unbelievably unfair.  We should rage.  But rage cannot define the final days of a life.  Indeed, rage is the killer of peace.

One must exist in a giant ball of rage yet exist in the center of the flame without being defined by the fire all around.  This epicenter of existence is neither a fantasy nor hate.  It is something so much more.  Namely, love.  One cannot love that which is not real.  One cannot love that which is hated.  One must love despite all temptations to the contrary.

That is where David and I are.  We are learning to love.  I am under no illusion of what is coming.  It will be horrible.  It will be a nightmare.  It will be the apex of injustice.  It will be a great many awful things…but it can also be filled with love.  Even on the gurney, there will be seconds left.  Those seconds can be filled with love.  David and I have no time for anything that will distract us from the divine task at hand.  We exist to love.

 

Petitions:

Missourians to Abolish the Death Penalty

Death Penalty Action

 

 

May 22, 2024

 

Killers in Our Midst

 

Late nights birth early mornings.  Though he preferred to sleep, he had to get up.  The job demanded it.  His wife and kids wouldn’t wake for at least another hour.  Quickly drinking a cup of coffee, he raced out the door.  Each step felt tougher than it had the day before.  Popping the trunk, he loaded all his gear into the car.  It took multiple turns before the car would start.  On the horizon, thin grey skies looked ominous.  The weather was as cold as his heart had become.  Even though he didn’t want to do it, the money was too good.  Meeting up with his team, they talked about the plan one more time.  Timing is everything in a matter like this.  Though they’d done it many times before, there was no room for error.  Proceeding up the stairs, they knew exactly where their target was.  The building was much warmer than they expected.  Perspiration formed along his brow.  When he saw them, he knew it was over.  With the team swarmed all around him, there was nowhere to run.  Resistance was futile.  Terror filled every second.  Though it would’ve been easier to just shoot him, it would’ve been too hard to clean up.  The boss told them to make it look as clean as possible.  So, they jabbed him with a needle filled with poison.  The look in his eyes waxed and waned until he was no more.  Holding him down, they stayed just long enough to make sure that he was dead.  Just like all murderers, they justified their actions by declaring that he deserved it.  After all, they’d already performed such a killing multiple times already this year.  Talking about everything except what just happened, the team left as fast as they’d arrived.  Murder never looked so professional.  That’s the way they preferred it.  Putting up his gear, the man raced home to those that he loved.  Walking through the door, he held his wife and kids tightly.  After such a long day, it was surely good to see them.

 

Stories of murder are disturbing.  That’s how we know we are still human.  When find the murder of each other to be disturbing, we can know that there is a part of us that still values humanity.  Most of us would respond to a story like the one above with a burning desire for such contract killers to be held accountable.  We don’t want people running around being able to kill people with impunity.  We want justice.  That is, until we don’t.

 

The man I describe above is no ordinary man.  He is an employee of the State of Missouri.  Indeed, the man works for the Department of Corrections.  It is his job is to kill those that the State tells him to kill.  The man is employed to pump poison into the vein of a defenseless person strapped to a gurney until they’re dead.  This is the path that they’ve chosen.  Nobody is forcing them to kill anybody.

 

On June 11, the State of Missouri intends to murder David Hosier.  Everyone will call it an execution to not have to call it what it is, a murder.  In like manner, the team who perpetuate the executioners will be called everything but what they are, murderers.  People want to talk about the perceived crimes of David Hosier.  Of course, such crimes shouldn’t be ignored.  But when are we going to talk about the crimes that are being perpetuated by contract killers in our midst?  These folks at the Department of Corrections have chosen to kill for money?  Isn’t that what a contract killer is?  We all have choices to make.  Nobody has to kill.  That’s such an important piece to remember.  Because the chief defense of those who kill David Hosier will be, ‘they were just doing their job.’  If part of your job was to kill defenseless people, would you keep on doing it?

 

Throughout history, the perpetuators of great atrocities have always fallen back on the same excuse, ‘I was just doing my job.’  While I don’t know if there is anything that is going to be able to stop the execution of David Hosier, I do know that history has never been kind to those who use the excuse of professional responsibilities to perpetuate great atrocities.  The employees of the Missouri Department of Corrections do not have to kill David Hosier.  If they do so, it will be because they chose to kill.  Those who perpetuate murder are murderers.  Plain facts lead to inconvenient truths.  One day, Missouri executioners will be called to account, either in this life or in the one to come.  Justice always has a way of catching up to evil.

 

 

June 9, 2024

 

Nightmare: On the Impending Execution of David Hosier

 

It’s 4:38am.  The nightmare is familiar.  I’ve just watched one of the guys I’ve worked with executed.  Right after they’re declared dead, I’m about to leave.  Suddenly, they look up and ask, “Why didn’t you help me?”  When I try to speak, nothing comes out of my mouth.  It’s as if I know that there is nothing to say.  Desperate to explain why I can’t.  I wake up with a jolt.  Tonight, it was David Hosier.  Even though he’s not even dead yet, he’s already haunting me.  They never leave, they’re always there.  This is the price of choosing to love.  This is the price of defiance in a world determined to kill.

Questions of help are a baseline of spirituality.  You can’t love if you are not willing to help.  I’ve loved David so much.  Yet, such love is probably not going to be enough…not going to be enough to save his life.  It tears at our heart.  It rips at your soul.  I know that I will love him until the end.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe there is no end.  Maybe it’s all an illusion.  It certainly doesn’t feel like it.  “Why didn’t you help me?” feels like the exact same question as, “Do you love me?”

When I can’t speak in the nightmare, what I’m trying to say is that I’m doing the best that I can.  I’ve tried to help as much as I can.  I’ve done everything possible.  I’ve left nothing on the table.  It doesn’t matter.  It seems impossible to stop the mechanisms of death.  So, I’m left there with nothing to say.  The one who has just been executed still lies there executed.

There are two executions that take place during every execution.  There is the executed.  But…there is also something that is executed within me.  I think it’s the belief that somehow love can stop these horrors.  Then again, that’s the only hope that I have.  I wake up after the nightmare.  I believe that I will also wake up after the nightmare on Tuesday.  I also believe that David will always be close no matter what happens.

Love is hope amidst hopelessness.  Nightmares be damned.  David is alive.  Love is alive.  Hope is too.  Hope.

 

 

June 11, 2024

 

The Final Visit: Minutes with David Hosier

 

 

Prisons are all the same.  You hurry up to wait.  Nothing happens when they tell you it’s going to.  You are forced to just sit.  The process of my final visit with David Hosier was anything but smooth.  You don’t dare complain.  They could very easily kick you out.  Through it all, you are just left alone with your thoughts.

 

Though I’d had such final visits before, this one was different.  David Hosier was unsettled.  I wracked my brain around what I should say.  When the last door finally opened, I decided to be ready.  Sometimes life is nothing more than a choice to be ready.

 

David looked horrible.  Though he’d told me earlier in the day that he wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t expect him to look like this.  His face was devoid of color.  There was a greyness that permeated his entire being.  The booth was cold and sterile.  I picked up a phone to talk to David through the glass.  Each word seemed more labored than before.  I could tell his heart was weakening.  In fact, I knew it was breaking.

 

Before I could jump into planned words, David wanted to talk about the lawyers.  “Have they filed anything that might stop the execution?”  I shook my head.  “Are they still trying to beg the governor to reconsider the clemency decision?”  I shook my head.  “Is there any chance that this thing might be stopped?”  I shook my head.  The mood changed.  It was as if the head shakes allowed us to rest in a space of finality.  When your direction is certain, I guess it’s easier to settle in for the journey.

 

We started with a reading of Psalm 59.  I knew that David would be invigorated by the intensity of the language.  The Psalm is filled with phrasings of a great battle between good and evil.  “Deliver me from my enemies, O God.”  “Save me from those who are after my blood.”  “Fierce men conspire against me for no offense or sin of mine.”  “For the curses and lies they utter, consume them in your wrath.”  “You, God, are my fortress.”  The truth is that I will never know who killed Angela and Rodney Gilpin.  The only thing that I know is that David was 100% convinced that it wasn’t him.  It’s not my job to change his mind.  It’s my job to meet him along the way and walk with him for a time.  I knew Psalm 59 would help him continue walking.

 

Though his breathing grew more labored.  We went through a liturgy of repentance.  If we’re conscious, I think it’s only right that we all get the opportunity to confess any last things.  When I asked David if he had anything he wanted to confess, he asked if we could do a blanket confession for both of us.  I didn’t hesitate.  Together we read Psalm 51.  “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out all of our transgressions.”  I wanted to make the meaning of the Psalm very clear.  “David Hosier, God has granted you absolution and remission of all of your sins.  The grace and consolation of the Holy Spirit guide you now and forevermore.”  I don’t think he was expecting me to make the sign of the cross over him.  David isn’t exactly Catholic.  When I finished, he asked if we could read some of the New Testament.

 

Time was drawing short.  I quickly flipped to John 8.  The passage is famous for Jesus’ admonition to the religious authorities who were gathered to execute an adulterous woman.  “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.”  I could tell that David felt every word.  In fact, he said, “How many of the executioners tonight will be without sin?”  One of the pieces of the story that people often miss is that Jesus gave his famous admonition from the dirt with the woman.  If the execution had commenced, Jesus was prepared to die with her.  I assured David that Jesus would be there with him on the gurney.  Indeed, closer than he could ever imagine.  David’s reply came quickly, “You will be too.  But I need you to keep on living.  There are a bunch of other folks out there who need you too.”

 

Sensing the tears welling up in both of our eyes, I pressed on.  I wanted to make sure I got to everywhere he wanted me to.  John 14 is Jesus’ vision of heaven that he blesses us with.  I read it at every execution.  It moves my heart so.  David and I have read it many times over the last few days.  “Let not your hearts be troubled.”  “I go to prepare a place for you.”  “I am the way.”  I am the truth.”  “I am the light.”  Though familiar, the phrases hit differently.  David began to heave and weep.  When I asked if he was ok, he told me to keep going.

 

The guard was growing impatient.  I knew it was time to go.  So, I stood up and read his favorite verse, 2 Timothy 4:7.  Only this time, it was explicitly for him, “David you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you have kept the faith.”  I put my hand on the glass.  We were both crying.  I told him that I’d see him tonight.  I told him he wouldn’t walk alone.  I told him I loved him.  I told him…. Then, it was all over.  I felt the guard guide me out of the booth with her hand.  Quickly, I turned around and blessed him, “In the name of the God who created you, redeems you and will never leave you.”  The prison was so much colder when I left.  I couldn’t wait to get outside.

 

Right before I exited the building, the receptionist encouraged me to, “Have a great day.”  For a second, I stopped and turned, “Don’t you think that’s a weird thing to say when y’all are about to kill someone?”  I didn’t wait for a reply.  The weather was hot.  So, I sat in my car for a good minute to allow my soul to thaw back out.

 

 

June 12, 2024

 

The Execution of David Hosier: The Final Account

 

David Hosier gave me a tremendous gift.  Over the final few months of David’s life, he let me in.  While this might not sound extraordinary to many, for David there’d only been a few times that he’d let anyone into his life.  Make no mistake, I loved David Hosier very much.  Every ounce of access that he gave me into his life, I tried my best to return.  Innocent or guilty, David was loved.  It’s an important place to begin.  There is so much noise amidst an execution.  There are so many messages that so many people try to get out.  Sometimes we forget the most important message, love.  Let it be known far and wide, David and I both shared a deep belief that love covers a multitude of sins.

 

For hours, I’d sat outside waiting on the moment to come.  There was a large gap of time between my final visit with David and the actual execution.  To say that there isn’t much to do in Bonne Terre would be an understatement.  Luckily, I was able to find a small Mexican restaurant to pass a few of those hours, but I largely just sat in my car and thought about what was to come.  It was awful.  I just sat and stewed in my sorrow.  I was just so sad for David and so many others that were about to perpetuate a completely unnecessary evil against him.  I wondered about the families of Angela and Rodney Gilpin.  What would it be like to yearn so hard for revenge, only to find that it wasn’t as sweet as you thought it was going to be?  I knew they were about to face one of the biggest letdowns of their lives.  Killing David wouldn’t do anything to help them.  Quite the contrary, it was only going to cause them more pain.  I couldn’t keep on thinking about it all.  I had to get my mind right.  Every thought just seemed to bounce in every direction.  How do you quiet a mind when you know that murder is coming?

 

When I pulled up, the place looked like Fort Knox.  I was surprised by how quickly the prison became the most important place in Missouri in a matter of hours.  The car was searched very thoroughly.  Who would be stupid enough to try to bring something in at this point?  Eventually, a police van pulled up to escort me to a parking spot right up front.  I had a reserved spot for the execution of David Hosier.  The heat was overwhelming.  I fumbled around in the car to make sure that I had everything that I needed.  Of course, the guys in the van were behind me watching my every move.  It’s difficult to make sure that you have everything when you know that there are people behind you who would love nothing more than for you to make a mistake.  I didn’t.  I had my identification.  I had my copy of the New Testament with other verses and prayers written in.  I checked my pockets and robe one more time.  I didn’t want to take anything in by accident.  It’s all such a mess.  Then…  “Dr. Hood?”  One of the members of their elite squad was ready for me to follow him.  I did.   What other choice did I have?

 

When I reached the entrance, I saw a familiar face.  During the execution orientation (yes, it’s a thing) a few days earlier, I’d met the Assistant Warden.  I found him to be incredibly kind and engaging.  It was clear that he didn’t want to be a part of this process at all.  I found his admitted moral uncertainty to be comforting in a space of such feigned moral superiority.  While we waited to proceed toward the execution chamber, we proceeded to a few chairs.  He was shocked that I sat in the chair right next to him.  Little did he know, I sometimes struggle to hear in such spaces.  I just wanted to make sure that I could hear him.  Obviously, I wasn’t trying to get fresh.  I was curious to engage him.  We started by talking about the nature of punishment versus rehabilitation.  When I brought up the success of various prison systems in Europe that limit sentences and emphasize rehabilitation, he was quick to reply, “I really admire much of what they do over there.”  I was shocked and immediately asked, “What keeps y’all from implementing such practices here?”  He responded swiftly, “Money and will.  Nobody in their right mind looks at this prison and thinks it’s the best we can do.”  Though astounded, I wanted to ask one more question, “Do you feel guilty being part of all of this?”  He responded clearly, “It’s my job.  I wish none of it had to happened.”  I found him to be very sincere.  I appreciated his candor and wanted to ask a few more questions.  But our time was up.  On his radio, I heard a voice declare, “We’re ready.”  I knew what that meant.  The door in front of us opened.  Though I desperately did not want to, I put one foot in front of the other.  I owed it to David.

 

Something happened.  Everything got dark and all noises were gone.  I was laser-focused on what I had to do next.  Then, I felt a hand on my arm.  “Hey brother, she needs to see your ID.”  I couldn’t figure out why they needed to see my ID so many times.  I pushed it up against the glass.  Leaning forward, the woman behind the dark glass gave me the thumbs up and put her hands together in prayer.  It was as if I could only see her hands.  Then, the Assistant Warden led me on.  The huge door opened loudly and shut just as loudly behind us as we walked through.  The Assistant Warden kept talking to me, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.  David was the only thing on my mind.  We were stuck at the next door.  Obviously, somebody forgot that we were coming through.  It was very strange.  One would think that as much as they practice these executions that there would be no delay.  The Assistant Warden radioed ahead.  I could sense his frustration boiling up.  Then, after a few more minutes the door opened.  I accidentally stepped on my robe and stumbled a bit.  Not so much that I was going to fall, but more so that it reminded me that I needed to remember to walk.  Once I entered the waiting area, I noticed something that I’d seen at many other executions.  Employees of the Department of Corrections were just hanging out.  I’ve never understood how people can just chat amicably when someone is about to be murdered in the next room over any second.  I didn’t have the will for any condemnations.  I had to be present for David.  We made it to the room next to the chamber, the control center of the entire operation.  The Assistant Warden knocked, and the door quickly opened.  Multiple officers guided me through a viewing room right next to the chamber to the place where I would go in to see David.  The door shut behind me and I realized that the Assistant Warden was gone.  When we passed through the next door, I noticed that the holding cell and all the equipment for the execution were right in front of me.  I was turned sharply to a door to my left.  There were so many doors that I didn’t know what was going to be next.  I started to breathe rapidly and grow more anxious by the second.  “What was taking so long?”  “Can’t this damn door just open?”  “What’s in there?”  Within a millisecond of such thoughts, the door slid open and I realized that I’d arrived at the epicenter of the house of horrors.

 

Imagine a hospital room with mirrors for walls.  Every direction you look, you see yourself.  I stepped in.  I looked to my right.  David was directly in the middle of it all.  There was a white sheet covering his entire body.  There were lines running out from under the sheets that went through a hole in the wall.  “Hey brother.  I’m here.  Just want you to know that I love you very much.”  I don’t know if it was the right thing to say.  I just spoke from my heart.  That’s the best you can do in a moment such as this.  David motioned with his head for me to sit down in the chair next to him.  He was clearly sedated.  Immediately, I asked him about the sedation and other accommodations.  He assured me that it was all taken care of.  The green plastic chair was the only object of color in the entire room.  It was the same as the chairs that visitors sit in in the visitation area.  It wasn’t lost on me that somebody would soon unknowingly sit in the same chair that was present for the murder of a man.  David had been unwell for weeks.  He looked like death on the gurney.  His skin was so grey and looked like it was growing greyer by the moment.  “I’m glad you’re here my friend,” David replied.  I put my hand on his shoulder and left it there the entire time.  Like we’d discussed previously, I started to read from the scriptures.  Everything looked so medical.  If one was not paying attention, it would be easy to mistake the room for something different than murder.  I guess that’s the point.  “God is my shepherd.”  Though we were the only two who were physically in the room, I wanted him to know that we were being guided by something so much greater than the two of us.

 

David wanted to make sure that I thanked everybody who’d listened to him.  Even in those final moments, it was clear that the biggest spot of liberation for David had been getting to tell his story.  Such an achievement was my primary goal when we first connected.  I was so grateful that he was approaching the end knowing that he’d done it.  “I love you, Jeff.”  The words pierced my heart.  I was surprised that he said them.  David was not the biggest sharer of feelings.  Yet here we were.  “Ye, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”  I told David that we were walking right through that valley and that he’d be meeting all that he ever loved in minutes.  “He will restore your soul.”  I wanted him to know that the restoration would soon be made completely.  I mentioned his dad.  I mentioned his grandfather.  I mentioned all those that had come before.  I wanted him to know they were going to be part of the restoration.  He then asked me a surprising question, “Angela and Rodney too?”  I replied, “absolutely.”  The mention of the victims wasn’t an admission of guilt as much as it was a genuine hope that all things would be restored.  I assured him that faith was the assurance of things hoped for.  Everything was about to be restored.

 

One of the things that is most shocking about Missouri’s execution chamber is that there are no instructions.  There is nobody there to tell you that the execution has started.  There is nobody there to tell you that the execution has ended.  In every other state, there are announcements throughout the execution.  Not in Missouri.  It was just David and I.  The only sound was the sound of my voice and the strained breathes of David.

 

We continued to pray together.  I encouraged David to repeat the following exhortation of the Apostle Paul with me, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”  I kept telling him repeatedly how proud I was of him.  In the midst of all the bullshit, he had stood his ground.  The lawyers would not silence him.  The press would not silence him.  David was going to tell his story.  David was going to live his story.  Before I moved on to the next reading, David stopped me and said, “Don’t let what has happened to me happen to anybody else.  Give em’ hell, Jeff.  Give em’ hell.”  I told him that I would keep fighting.  I told him that what was happening to him was wrong.  I told him we would all keep fighting.  I told him to listen to the words of Jesus in John 8.  As I was flipping through the scriptures, I could hear the rustling of the curtains.  I figured we were getting close.  There was a camera above my head.  I knew they were listening.  “…this woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?”  David let a slight smile come to his face.  He knew the story well.  I told him that I was with him.  I told him that I was down in the dirt with him.  “All right but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”  I said it loud enough so that all the executioners could hear.  “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”  None of the executioners were bold enough to even enter the room.  I was the only one there with David.  I told him that he was now free to embody the words of Jesus forever, “Go and sin no more.”  David exercised tremendous courage.  He refused to let them see him afraid.

 

Looking at my watch, I realized that time was drawing short.  I skipped over to John 14.  “Let not your heart be troubled: believe in God, believe also in me.”  David let out a few words, “I believe brother.  I believe.”  As I dug further into the verses descriptions of heaven, I could see a calm come over his face.  David was ready to see God.  David was ready to see the mansions that Jesus spoke of man centuries ago.  “I’m ready.”  When I heard him utter those two words, I responded, “Know that I love you.  Know that I’m proud of you.  Know that I love you.”  I  wanted those to be the last words that he heard.  His life was so full of missed chances and failed loves.  I repeated those words of affirmation over and over.  David responded, “I know.”

 

There was a line running underneath my elbow.  The tube was labeled, “2.”  Clearly, this was the second line.  When I saw the poison start to pass through the tube, I knew that the execution was in full swing.  The fact that the death tube was so close was very tempting.  I figured I could rip that thing out of the wall and buy David a little more time.  Of course, such thoughts are but fleeting fantasies.  The second such an event happened I would be removed from the chamber, never be able to help anyone again and they would still have killed David.  Once you get to that point, it’s over.  The only thing one can do is pray that God will forgive them for doing nothing to stop a murder that is taking place in front of you.  I prayed that David would forgive me too.

 

I could tell that the poison was started to take effect.  David’s entire body began to change.  One last time, David said, “Give em’ hell.”  I started reading the story of Jesus’ passion.  I spoke of forgiveness.  I spoke of love.  I spoke of pain.  I spoke of the promise of eternal life.  I leaned in.  I wanted to hear that he was walking the exact same road that Jesus did.  I wanted him to hear the words of Jesus on the cross, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  I could feel him slipping away so quickly.  I wanted to grab his soul and hold it to his body.  I knew that I couldn’t.  I also knew that he would never want me to.  David was going to be all right.  It’s the rest of us that are left to stew in this moral hell.  Right when I read “It is finished” I knew that David was gone.

 

When I started to pull my hand up, it stuck to David.  The sweat had gelled around his shoulder.  I didn’t want to let go.  But I needed to commend his soul to God.  I made the sign of the cross three times.  I told him to go.  I told him he was loved.  But I told him that God loves him so much more than any of us ever could.  I told him to go.  I made the sign of the cross three more times.  It was then, that I knew he was gone.

 

David went from grey to greyer throughout the execution.  Now, it was as if his entire body had turned to ash.  Eventually, the door opened.  One of the officers asked me to come out.  I stopped and made the sign of the cross three times over his body.  David looked more at peace than I’d ever seen him look.  I remembered his words.  Then, I looked up to see myself in the mirror.  Behind me, I saw every guy that I’d accompanied to their executions.  David was with them.  They were all saying the same thing, “Give em’ hell.”  When I exited the room, I thought I was going to get to leave.  You can’t blame anybody for wanting to get out of such deadly lunacy.  But I was forced to sit in a seat in the execution control center until everybody else had left.  That was some of the longest fifteen minutes of my life.  My mind raced about what could be happening next.  Was I getting arrested?  Did I do something wrong?  What in the hell is going on?  The guy at the desk was not interested in taking any of my questions.  Eventually, the phone rang.  It was time to go.  The big door opened.  Then, another big door opened.  Eventually, I met up with the Assistant Warden again to be escorted out.  He could tell that I was shaken.  Who wouldn’t be?  He asked, “Are you ok?”  It was a kind question.  I just didn’t know how to respond.  I simply said, “No.”

 

By the time we reached the parking lot, there’d been a bunch of small talk and I’d past through multiple security checks.  I don’t remember any of it.  I just knew that I needed to tell the world what just happened.  Before I got in the car, I gave the Assistant Warden a hug.  I wanted him to know that they hadn’t executed love…they’d only caused it to grow.