I walked into the Polunsky Unit on June 28th of this year knowing full well this would be one of the last visits I had with my little brother. A sort of sick feeling had been with me for the past 3 or 4 months and it was getting worse by the day. I guess somewhere deep inside I always knew he wouldn’t get a stay but I always hoped he would. I could take solace in the fact that he was finally getting out of prison and would never have to be locked in a cage again. He was going home to be with his Dad who passed away just 3 weeks before. I was here to witness the execution of Michael James Perry and I will never forget it for as long as I live.
June 28th 2010
I landed at George Bush Airport around 11:30 that morning and after arriving at my hotel, I met up with one of Michael’s longest supporters, Dazza. He had was staying at the same hotel as me and had flown in from Italy to say goodbye to Michael. We made our way over to the prison and after a security check , we found ourselves in the death row visitation area. Michael’s Aunt Joy and one of his cousins walked towards us and let us know that he was in good spirits and they were finished with their visit.
Michael was being held in a separate area normally used for attorney/client meetings. It is standard procedure that for the last 4 days of the condemned offenders life, they are allowed visitation all day long. When we walked in to this room, Michael saw us and he had a smile on his face you couldn’t wipe off if you hit him with a 2 x 4. He immediately gave me “the finger” and laughed. I have never seen him so happy before and it really floored me. He was on top of the world and well, just plain giddy about all of this. We talked for a hour or so but I knew that his mother was wanting to see him so we left about 2:30 and went to get something to eat. As much as I wanted to go back to see him, he was going to be busy with his family the rest of the day so I just bombed around town for a few hours and then just hung out at the hotel for the rest of the day. Dazza wanted to take a boatload of pictures so he ventured out on his own.
June 29th 2010
I went to see Michael by myself this time as he wanted a one on one visit. I was really expecting him to be in a bad mood but to my surprise, he wasn’t. He was just as happy as the day before. I asked him what he wanted to eat and he said he didn’t want anything except a couple of sodas. When I asked why, he told me he was fasting until his execution. It wasn’t a protest or anything like that, it was just something he felt he needed to do. So I got him his sodas and we had a very nice conversation. One thing he always loved is when I would talk to him like a “New Yorker”. I would yell at him with my very best Brooklyn accent, dropping f-bombs every other word and he would laugh until he cried. After a couple hours, I had to take off because more of Michael’s family wanted to see him so I went back to the hotel, watched some TV, caught some shuteye and went out to dinner with Dazza. Did I mention there isn’t a damn thing to do in Livingston, Texas? The town is a total yawn.
June 30th 2010
I only saw Michael for about 45 minutes due to family and media visits but my day was full because there was a French television news crew that wanted to interview me for a documentary they were doing about Michael. The name of the reporter escapes me now but he was a really nice person so I felt comfortable talking to him. The thing that was very strange to me is where he wanted to interview me. We drove to Huntsville and he interviewed me while I was walking through the prison graveyard there. What a creepy, dismal place this was. The cemetery has these very cheap headstones that has the names of all the people who died in prison. It looks as though a 5th grader with poor penmanship carved out the names and dates on these things. As I walked along talking to this reporter and having the sound guy and camera man circling me, I noticed some fresh graves that had been dug and you could see some of the other graves where the pressboard coffins had collapsed from the weight of the dirt and mud. You could actually see part of the coffins poking through the dirt. Luckily, I didn’t see any of the corpses. It was very disturbing. The crew had asked if I would speak to them after the execution and I said I didn’t know about that; I wasn’t sure what state of mind I would be in. After the shoot, the crew and I headed back to Livingston and exchanged phone numbers for the following day. I tried to get some sleep that night but could only muster a couple of hours of dozing off for a few minutes at a time. Michael’s execution was the next day.
July 1st 2010
7:00AM: As I said, I didn’t sleep much and I was extremely tired in the morning. I went downstairs to grab some breakfast and drink a gallon of coffee. I felt horrible but not because I was tired, this would be the last day I would see Michael alive. The feeling was surreal. I have never felt this way and I pray to God that I never do again. Dazza couldn’t handle watching the execution (not that I could blame him);he had left for Italy the day before so I would be going to see Michael by myself today. This would be the hardest and last face to face visit with him.
8:00AM: While he was a little more laid back that in previous visits, he was, by no means, sad or depressed. He acted as if it was just another day but I could tell he was getting a little nervous. I could only stay for an hour because of, again, his family wanted to see him one last time. I had a lump in my throat the size of a basketball while I was talking to him but I would not let myself cry in front of him…at least not yet. We said our goodbyes and I told him that I loved him and I would be along soon enough to join him in Heaven; he said he loved me too and that he would always watch over me. I barely made it out of the visitation area before the tears began to flow. I went back to the hotel to try and prepare myself for the rest of the day. It would prove to be the longest day of my life.
12:00PM: The time had come for me to head to Huntsville to begin the process as a witness to the execution. I walked down to the lobby of the hotel where I was greeted by Vick, Nisha and Janet. Vick and Nisha are the owners of the La Quinta Inn and Suites where I was staying. Janet is the head housekeeper there. They were so sweet to me because they knew why I was there and what was about to happen. After they wished me luck and said they were still praying that Michael would get a stay, I left Livingston for the hour or so drive to Huntsville.
1:00PM: This is where the process begins. You do not go directly to the prison, rather you go to a place called “Hospitality House”. It’s a place specifically for the family of the condemned and was built by the Baptist Church. It’s quite a remarkable building and the people there treated us like gold. Here is where I met up with Michael’s mother, aunts, cousins and for the first time, I met his brother, Ryan. Hospitality House has a kitchen where they had all sorts of cookies, chips, coffee, soda as well as other snacks for you to enjoy. I grabbed a soda, sat in a very large room that was furnished with couches and chairs and chatted with Michael’s family. We all had amusing stories about Michael and we shared some really good laughs together. It sort of made it a little more bearable.
Meanwhile, Michael was transported to Huntsville around noon and had arrived about the same time that I got to Hospitality House. Now on the day of the execution, they really roll out the red carpet for the offender. He is given a new uniform before he leaves the Pulunsky Unit and he is given another new uniform upon arrival, he is then allowed to shower and eat his last meal that he had ordered a few days earlier. Michael had ordered 3 bacon and cheese omelets, 3 chicken and cheese enchiladas and 3 cans each of Pepsi, Coca Cola and Dr Pepper. He ate none of it with the exception of a few cans of soda. He was still fasting. They also had cookies and other snacks for the offenders to munch on while they are waiting to be murdered. After words, he is allowed to make phone calls to whoever he wants to. This is where I spoke to Michael for the very last time. He told me that he wanted to talk to Emily to bring closure so I arranged that for him. Right before I handed the phone off to Michael’s mother, he spoke his last words to me. He said “I love you, Ken” I told him I loved him too and simply said ” I’ll see you soon”.
4:00PM: At this point, a Pastor from the prison came in to talk to us and let us know what to expect. He explained that they will not take Michael into the execution chamber until all of his appeals are gone. He said “It’s not like in the movies where the phone going to ring seconds before the switch is thrown, one he goes into the chamber, the execution WILL proceed”. He then told us that at no time will we see the victims’ family members nor will they see us. For obvious reason they keep both parties separated.
It was about that time when we got a call from Jessica Mederson who was Michael’s lawyer saying that the United States Supreme Court had denied Michael’s petition for a stay of execution. My heart broke; it was a done deal. All of his appeals were gone and it was going to happen for sure now.
The Pastor continued explaining to us that he will be in the chamber with Michael and have his hand on Michael’s ankle so he knows there is human contact and to keep him calm. He told us that after the execution, his body would be transferred to a funeral home where we would be able to touch him and say our last goodbyes. He even said he would still be warm to the touch. He left for the prison leaving us to take in what we just heard.
5:15PM: We were giving the option to ride over to the prison in a van or drive ourselves over there, I drove myself as did Michael’s mother and aunt and Michael’s Pastor who came in later during the day. We would be the only four “family members” to witness Michael’s death other than the victims’ family.
We arrived at the TDCJ administrative building which is only a few blocks from the Hospitality House and just across the street from the Walls Unit where the execution would take place. Here, we are searched patted down and explained the rules of conduct within the prison. We are then taken to a break room where we wait to be taken over to the prison. I notice that there are state police, local police and Texas rangers (the police, not the baseball players) all over the place. I was seated with Michael’s mother, his aunt Joy, and his Pastor. We share some more stories about Michael and I explained to them how Michael gave me the nickname “Pumpkin Head”(Long Story). We were trying to keep it together but by now the mood was somber and all of us were about ready to break down.
5:45PM: A corrections officer, a state police officer and a Texas ranger came into the room and said it was time to go to the prison. They escort us to the back of the administrative building and out the back door. As soon as we were outside, I saw a news crew filming us and I heard someone down the street on a PA system crying out how Michael Perry’s execution was wrong. I know their hearts were in the right place but for some reason, it really pissed me off. I looked up and down the street which was blocked off and saw two Texas rangers (I’m assuming) at each end of the block holding shotguns. I guess they take their executions very seriously down there. It had begun to rain as we enter the Walls Unit and we were escorted up a flight of stairs into an office and again, had to wait. Sitting across from me was an AP reporter by the name of Michael Graczyk. He witnesses all the executions there and writes a report on them. A friend of mine thinks he’s a ghoul and I have a hard time disagreeing with him.
The Execution of Michael James Perry
At 6:00PM CDT, we were lead through the visitation area which was empty and out into a tiny courtyard. From there I thought we would be lead into a room to see this carried out. I was wrong, we walked into a dark hallway that was about ten feet long with a window at the end of it. It was about the size of your bathroom but I wouldn’t call it a room, it was more of a closet. So it was Gay Perry, his Aunt Joy, his Pastor, A Texas ranger, a corrections officer , a state police officer , Michael Graczyk and myself that were crammed into this little closet. The window was only big enough for the four “family members” to see out of; the rest stood in back of us.
As I looked through the window, I saw Michael strapped down to this gurney in a crucifix position. He had IV tubes running into his skinny arms and a sheet that was pulled up to his waist. His hands were wrapped in ace bandages were the needles went in. There was a microphone that hung from the ceiling over Michael’s head. I would guess we were not more than 4 feet away from him. I was almost shocked at how close he was to us. He looked at me with that big beautiful smile of his and mouth the words “I love you”. I started crying almost uncontrollably and looking back on it, I wished I hadn’t. The other pastor was in the chamber with him and just like he said, he had his hand on Michael’s exposed ankle. The warden of the Walls Unit stood behind Michael’s head and asked him if he would like to give a final statement. Michael did.
“I want to start off by saying I want everyone to know that’s involved in this atrocity that they are forgiven by me.” He then said “I’m ready, Warden“. He sobbed briefly, then whispered, “I love you, Mom. I’m coming home, Dad. I’m coming home.”
Remember when I said I wished I hadn’t started crying? I think when Michael saw that he started to panic and that’s why he didn’t finish his final statement. I think he had a lot more to say and couldn’t but I could be wrong.
The warden looked over at someone we could not see and gave a nod to begin the execution. Michael’s eyes fluttered for a moment and then he just fell asleep. What came next was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen. After about 2 minutes of him being unconscious, his body began to gasp for air. It was a sound I will never forget. The papers would later say it was the hiccups. It was not, I assure you. It was the most frightening sound you could imagine. I remember saying out loud “Oh my God, he suffering!” It seemed like an eternity standing there waiting for something to happen. Then, a doctor appeared from around the corner and walked up to Michael. He opened Michael’s eyes and looked at them with a little flashlight. He felt Michael’s neck and throat for a pulse and then checked for a heartbeat with his stethoscope. He then looked up at the clock and simply said “six seventeen”. Then he grabbed the sheet that had been around Michael’s waist and pulled it over his head. He had, in fact, pronounced Michael James Perry dead.
6:18PM: We were lead out of the witness area, out of the prison where the protesters were still yammering over the PA system. By this point it was pouring outside and as soon as I got into my car, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think and I sure as hell couldn’t drive…my little brother was gone. I finally regained my composure and headed back over to the Hospitality House, had a cup of coffee and waited for word that they had transferred Michael’s body to the funeral home.
6:45PM: We went over to the funeral home and when we walked in the funeral director lead us into a room where Michael’s body was. He looked so small laying on the stretcher. Michael’s mother and aunt said there goodbyes to him and left the room. For the first time in my life, I was able to touch my little brother. I gave him a little hug, kissed him on the forehead and told him I loved him one last time.
I left the funeral home and as I was getting into my car, Emily called me and I lost it all over again. We cried together for a few moments and I told her I would call her later that night, which I did. I headed back to Livingston in the pouring rain not wanting to stop to use the rest room because I was still crying and I didn’t want anyone to see me. I got back to the hotel and went straight to my room. I tried to lay down but just couldn’t get the vision of Michael gasping for air out of my head. I watched TV for a while, careful to avoid the news. I didn’t want to hear anything more about the execution. About 2:30 in the morning, I got up, showered, packed my things and headed down to the lobby. Vick and Nisha were there which surprised me but they knew what time I was checking out and they wanted to make sure I was OK. I assured them that I was and we said our goodbyes.
I drove to Houston to catch my 5:50AM flight to Philadelphia and then connected to Binghamton, NY. I got off the plane and instead of driving the 10 minutes to my house, I took a 3 hour road trip to the 1000 Islands for a long weekend. Seeing as I hadn’t slept in two days and all the stress I went through, I got to my cousin’s trailer and passed out within 5 minutes. I don’t think I moved all night long.
The Aftermath
My cousin Dan had been following the events of July 1st and he sent me a video clip of a news broadcast in Texas. There in front of me was the families of the victims holding the pictures of Jeremy Richardson, Adam and Sandra Stotler and describing what took place in Huntsville. I probably should have prepared myself for this but I didn’t. One of these people called Michael a monster because he never looked over at the victims’ families during the execution. He never acknowledged them and I’m glad he didn’t. He had no reason to. I was so filled with rage after hearing those people calling Michael a monster, that I wanted to hurt them and hurt them badly. I have since mellowed. I used to have sympathy for them, I no longer do. They didn’t know Michael. They never ever reached out to him to find out what really happened and to get Michael’s side of the story. They NEVER ONCE gave thought to the idea that Michael just might be innocent. They listened to the police and prosecutors and believed every bit of garbage that they were told. It made me sick to my stomach to hear them call Michael a monster. They took pleasure in watching my little brother die so I will take comfort in knowing those ignorant simpletons will suffer for the rest of their lives. Let me ask you a question…Did Michael’s execution bring back the three victims that were killed? NO!
It has been 2 months since Michael Perry’s execution and it still haunts me as much today as it did on July 1st. There are some people out there that have been waiting for me to write this article so they can gloat and tell me how happy they are that Michael is gone. Don’t waste your time writing nasty comments because they will be immediately deleted. For those who wish to ask questions in a respectful manner or make respectful comments, I welcome them.
Rest In Peace my “Little Dude”
Pumpkinhead
