story
Volume 35, Number 4

Bits of Humanity Lost

Gil Hoy

Visitors are few and far between on death row.

The only people I see these days are corrections officers and, on rare occasions, another prisoner. I saw a doctor six months ago when I stopped eating for ten days. I used to see my lawyer, but my appeal was denied, so he doesn’t come around anymore. I haven’t seen my wife or kids for years. I’m starting to forget what they look like.

I used to socialize. I used to have a lot of friends. I used to be a family man and could go wherever I wanted. I’ve been locked up in a dark prison cell for twenty-plus hours a day for fifteen years now.

My cell’s the size of a small bathroom. It has a steel toilet and a concrete slab for a bed.

I’ve lost thirty pounds, and sometimes I see things that aren’t there. It’s been ten years since I was able to breathe fresh air and see the sun.

I used to think about dropping my appeal. That’s how bad things are. Death has to be better than this. I heard through the grapevine that another prisoner did just that. He dropped his appeal, and he’s dead now. They killed him.

Shouldn’t I be allowed to say goodbye to my family? Shouldn’t I be able to do what I need to come to peace with myself?

The end is coming very soon, tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.

A corrections officer asked me today what I wanted for dinner. That was a first. “Steak, medium well, a baked potato with sour cream and butter, and chocolate ice cream. And a Bible, pen and paper.” I got the food.

How do you get here? You get here by being a poor man who can’t afford a good lawyer. Your lawyer was as bad as they get. Then you’ll get here even if you’re innocent. It won’t matter that you didn’t do it.

You get here even when no one testified they saw you do it. Had they, they would have been lying. Or mistaken. You didn’t kill that man. But that doesn’t matter anymore. You lost your appeal, and there’s nothing more to be done.

The prosecutor was good at what she did. And she wanted to win. She wanted to beat you.

She wanted to kill you. That’s how you get here. That’s why you die in the morning.

Who is the protector in this place? Living, breathing oxygen is all around outside. The bright, warm sun is all around outside. The earth still invites you. If you could, you’d taste and savor their sweetness. It’s too late now. I’m done with air. I’m done with the sun and the earth.

I’m dead, I’m done.

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