Witness to the Execution: A Journalist’s Harrowing Account
A Witness to Execution Methods
As a journalist, I have now watched through the glass and bars of a South Carolina prison as 11 men were put to death. None of the previous 10 executions could have prepared me for the firing squad death of Brad Sigmon on Friday night. I may now be one of the few U.S. reporters who has witnessed three different methods of execution: lethal injection, the electric chair, and the firing squad. The memories of these events, including the stark "thunk" of the electric chair’s breaker falling 21 years ago, remain etched in my mind. Each execution is a grim reminder of the ultimate power of the state and the irreversible finality of death.
The Firing Squad: A Violent and Tense Execution
In the two weeks leading up to Mr. Sigmon’s execution, I prepared myself by researching firing squads and the brutal damage they inflict. I studied autopsy photos from the last firing squad execution in Utah in 2010 and reviewed the transcript of Mr. Sigmon’s trial. The details were horrifying: Mr. Sigmon had struck his ex-girlfriend’s parents nine times each in the head with a baseball bat in their Greenville County home in 2001. Yet, no amount of research could fully prepare me for the raw violence of the firing squad.
As I watched, Mr. Sigmon was hooded, and a black pull shade was opened to reveal the three volunteer shooters. The tension in the room was palpable. My heart raced as the rifles fired without warning, their abrupt crack startling me. The white target on Mr. Sigmon’s chest disappeared instantly as his body flinched. It was a moment of harrowing violence, a stark contrast to the sterility of lethal injection.
The Emotional Toll of Witnessing Death
The execution left me deeply unsettled. I could not help but compare it to the electric chair execution I had witnessed years earlier, where the prisoner’s body jolted violently from the surge of electricity. Both methods leave an indelible mark on the mind. As I struggled to process what I had just seen, I found myself reflecting on the broader implications of capital punishment. The death penalty is often framed as a legal or moral issue, but witnessing it firsthand makes it profoundly personal.
The setting of the execution chamber—its fluorescent lights, gray walls, and clinical atmosphere—only heightened the sense of detachment from the humanity of the condemned man. Yet, the jagged red spot on Mr. Sigmon’s chest and the faint rise and fall of his chest in his final moments were grim reminders of the irreversible act of taking a life.
The Death Chamber and Its Surroundings
The death chamber at Broad River Correctional Institution is a place of stark contrasts. Located just a short drive from the Corrections Department headquarters along a busy suburban highway, it is nestled between a pastoral scene of cows grazing in a nearby pasture and the imposing razor wire of the prison. The proximity of such beauty to such darkness is jarring.
As I sat in the van outside the death chamber, stripped of my watch and phone for security, I could see the barred windows of South Carolina’s death row. The knowledge that there were 28 inmates there earlier that day, now reduced to 27, weighed heavily on my mind. Each execution serves as a stark reminder of the state’s power to take life and the debate over whether such power is justly wielded.
The Psychology of the Condemned
I have now witnessed three executions in South Carolina, each with its own unique emotional landscape. Freddie Owens locked eyes with every witness in the room, his gaze piercing and defiant. Richard Moore, by contrast, seemed serene, his lawyer weeping as he looked calmly at the ceiling. Marion Bowman Jr. smiled faintly as he turned to his lawyer before closing his eyes to wait for the end.
Each condemned man’s final moments revealed something about their character, their fears, and their acceptance of fate. Mr. Sigmon, too, had his own final act: mouthing words to his lawyer through the glass, trying to reassure him that he was okay before the hood was placed over his head. These fleeting moments of humanity, caught in the stark glare of the death chamber, are what linger in the memory long after the execution is over.
The Broader Implications of Capital Punishment
As South Carolina resumes executions after a 13-year pause, the debate over capital punishment continues. The state now offers inmates a choice between lethal injection, electrocution, or the firing squad, each method carrying its own grim history and controversy. For journalists like myself, bearing witness to these events is both a professional duty and a deeply personal burden.
I know I will return to Broad River Correctional Institution on April 11, when two more men are scheduled to die. By then, I will have witnessed more than a quarter of South Carolina’s executions since the death penalty was reinstated. Each time, I am reminded of the weight of this responsibility—to report not just the facts, but the human stories behind them. The crack of the rifles, the flicker of the electric chair, and the stillness of lethal injection are all sounds and images that will stay with me forever, a testament to the enduring complexity of capital punishment.
