RANDOLPH REEVES & THE NEBRASKA DEATH SQUAD
I happen to be in the Nebraska State Prison hospital because of my deteriorating health. This is where condemned prisoners are brought before they are to be murdered/executed in the electric chair. I cannot believe that I am here by chance. I am here to see what the general public does not see--not even other prison inmates--and what will never appear in the newspapers or any other media.
I was in this prison hospital last year when they executed/murdered Robert Williams, an African prisoner. This time it is Randolph Reeves, 42--a native and an indigenous man from a tribe here in Omaha, Nebraska. He is the fourth prisoner scheduled to be executed since Nebraska reinstated the death penalty.
For an entire week, porters have been here waxing and stripping the floors, painting the walls, and polishing the metal trim on the doors and rails. This has been done in a festive spirit, the prison staff joking and making racist remarks in preparation for the "big barbecue," as one high-ranking prison official wise-cracked. One prison administrator remarked to a captain, "I wonder if Randy will ask for fried bread for his last meal. Fried bread for the fried Indian. How fitting!" I heard other officers say, "They should just hang him like they do in Washington State. It will save on our electric bill, and cut the risks of a mass power surge. He's just a damn mudman anyway!"
Much laughter accompanied the death squad drills and routines. Two members of the death squad argued about who was to play the role of the condemned prisoner and get to be strapped down in the chair, which they call "Old Sparky." Many of the staff say that this is one of the perks of working in the Nebraska State Penitentiary: they can sign up for death watch duties and "have a pass to kill niggers, wetbacks, and mud people" (meaning Native-Americans). Not all of the prison staff participate in these antics. Many are somber, yet not one verbally objects to this behavior by co-workers.
On January 8th, Randy's appointed death squad brought him up from the death row housing unit, escorting him to cell #7 like thieves in the night while all prisoners were safely tucked away in their cages and the day-shift prison staff--administrators, maintenance and culinary workers--had gone home. All the patients in the prison hospital had been moved to five cells on one side of the hospital, leaving five cells on the other side vacant for Randy, the media, and an attorney writing area.
Separating the two sides of the hospital is the nurse's station. On my side, the windows face the prison yard. On Randy's side, horizontal-barred windows face the employee parking lot, Pioneers Boulevard, several other State government buildings, fast food joints, etc. Randy is placed on that side both as a public display where the media can see through his window and to keep him out of sight of the 1,200 other prisoners on the remote chance they might rebel. What irony! Randolph Reeves, a native son of the Omaha Native American people, stripped of his heritage and adopted into a White family, is now in a prison death house where his last glimpse of the outside world will be a road named for the pioneers--nvaders/colonizers who were first to rape and murder Randy's ancestors.
On January 9th, a sergeant and a caseworker--also security staff with the rank of sergeant or lieutenant-- were posted in front of prison hospital room #7. They brought desks and chairs so that they could leer into his room through the glass window and monitor his every move. Randy must have felt totally degraded. How demeaning to be monitored twenty-four hours a day until the final hour of his demise! These should be hours allowing solitude in which to pray, to reflect, perhaps cry, laugh, or ponder forgiveness.
The State must keep good watch over him to make sure he does not die by his own hand or of natural causes. One of the death squad staff explained to a Nebraska State bigwig from the Attorney General's office that even if Randy suffers a massive heart attack, the State is obliged to save his life so they can execute him. The State of Nebraska must execute him. Nebraska must not be deprived of that pleasure.
The cell next door to Randy's has all his personal property where he can sit during the day with two high-ranking prison staff members and listen to music or watch TV. Randy cannot be left alone with these things for fear he might kill himself by whatever means a TV or radio provides. At night, when Randy is put back in cell #7, the hatch in the door providing access for food trays is opened, and two staff members wheel his TV in front of his cell, so that he can watch late-night programs by crouching down on his chair.
On January 10th, the prison staff walk to my side of the hospital, out of earshot of Randy, and murmur that Senator Ernie Chambers might be visiting him, so everyone should be on their best behavior and no joking around.
Randy is across the way from me, and I call out to ask if he needs anything. The guard on duty tells me I cannot speak to Randy. I laugh, and Randy laughs. Randy tells me he has everything and thanks me. Randy ignores the prison guards, and so do I. The guard calls the shift duty officer in charge, asking if I should receive a misconduct report for speaking to Randolph Reeves. Does this madness never end?
I wish I could visit Randy and play cards or chess with him. We only know each other by sight and glances, but word gets around. I have been at NSP since 1993. Death row is separate from the general population, but when the prison administration decided to punish me for my political views and challenges of the prison officials on racism, corruption, exploitation, collusion, and conspiracy, they placed me in a Segregation Classification status. This put me in a unit near death row, and I got to know most of the solid death row convicts as much as is possible.
The prison staff involved in the execution of Randolph Reeves have the option to not participate in the death squad (but some even volunteer). This time the Department of Correctional Services has deliberately recruited minority staff into the death squad, and these sellouts have agreed. It saddens me to know that three Mexicans and one African are involved in this plot to execute a minority/person of color: the indigenous Omaha brother Randolph Reeves. They were handpicked by the bigwigs of the Nebraska Department of Correctional Services, so the deed would not appear to be racist. They want to appear politically correct when they execute/murder a human being. It's sick. These men and women are no better than any other person convicted of murder. In fact, they are less. They are paid henchmen and assassins, merciless murderers, whether they are white, brown, red, or black.
There are many ironies here in the preparation to execu
te Randolph Reeves, the local mass media coverage, vigils by death penalty opponents, victims' family members sharing their views, last-minute legal motions, hearings sought by Randy's gallant attorney, and local clergy proposing legislation to ban the death penalty. Victims' family members asked the newly-appointed Governor Mike Johanns, just fifty minutes after his swearing-in, if Randy's life is to be spared. Just one week before the scheduled execution of Randolph Reeves, a new bill, LB-16--to abolish executions--was introduced, by the State's most outspoken death-penalty opponent, African American Omaha Senator Ernie Chambers. Even if the bill had overwhelming support, it would not become law in time to prevent Reeves' execution/murder. On this basis alone, the scheduled date for Reeve's execution/murder should be delayed, but the State government is in haste to dispatch this native son of the Omaha tribe.
An execution is an arbitrary act of injustice, choosing who dies and who lives based on the race of the murder victim. If the victim is black, brown, red, or yellow, the convicted murderer usually escapes the death penalty as well as life in prison. But if the victim is a white person, the death penalty will almost certainly be considered-and 99% guaranteed if the accused murderer is a minority.
The anger in me is spreading throughout my heart, adding to the illness trying to squeeze my life into an early death. As I watch this prison government prepare to execute a human being, I can only pray for Randolph Reeves, embrace his spirit, and try to absorb some of his pain and fears, so that he can cross over and be received by his great ancestors who were also massacred, murdered, and executed by government assassins. I have a piece of bitterroot and a stash of sage which I will burn for Randy on the afternoon of the day before he is to die. I will be wheeled out to the prison yard for fresh air on my request to burn sage. I burn sage for peace, healing, and for Randy who will die in irony, yet serve as an incandescent symbol of courage.
Many death row convicts have written about their experiences. Many journalists have also written about executions, yet much goes on that neither of these two sees. Much is kept from Randy--the snickers, the flagrant joking, the remarks by the prison administrators, guards, and death squad. No free-world visitor, attorney, or journalist can write about such things, but the prisoners who witness this can, and they can provide names, tell the truth, and refuse to fear the retaliation of prison officials. I want to let people know what goes on. I want to expose the death squads who participate in these travesties.