Dear Reader

Dear reader,

It’s not only possible but likely that by the time you read this I will be a corpse.

If that is the case you now gaze upon the likeness of a man murdered by the state of Texas. As I pen this I wait for a panel of men to decide my fate, I've been sitting inside this cell for more than 7 years, waiting and I can feel the time passing me by. It is strange to think about what’s going to happen to me in the near future. My appeals are gone and despite the fact I've never murdered anyone I'm going to be strapped down and pumped full of poison.

I know I know go ahead roll your eyes... everyone innocent aren't they?

But I'll say it again I’ve never killed anyone but you don't have to kill anyone in the state of Texas I have come to learn.

I have trouble wrapping my head around the whole situation, about what's happening here. I mean.. I have a co-defendant, Marcus. Now I want you to listen to this and really think about it, seriously cause if I'm dead when you read this I lost... anyways... I was convicted of killing two people a friend of mine and his girlfriend. Marcus was arrested months before I was. I had been questioned, because I survived the murder but the police didn't arrest me after questioning.  I was arrested months later in California.

Despite that I went to trial before Marcus, even though all the forensics, all the evidence was tied to him. Marcus came from a well-to-do family and I came from nothing.

I was found guilty and sentenced to death without my attorneys even trying to help.

Marcus didn't have to go to trial.  3 months after I was sentenced he confessed to killing both victims, both Ron and Beth.

He was sentenced to life in prison. He never mentioned me in court.

Not once does he say anything about me, and then he confesses to a different murder, and given life for that one too, and here I am, waiting to die for a murder another man confessed to.

Waiting to die and there's nothing I can do about it.

Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine I'd end up in a situation like this its like something out of a horror novel only the villain in my story is the state, and there is no hero who can come in and stop it. The law says its alright for them to come and kill me, because for some reason he decided to let me survive when he killed my friends in front of me.

I don't understand.

I don't understand how this can be happening and it terrifies me like you wouldn't believe that they can take this thing so precious, a life, my life, without any regard what so ever  and so clinically... 

I'll just go to sleep and never wake up I think that the manner of my death terrifies me almost as much as the fact of it.  Strapped down, unable to do nothing but watch, my family afraid crying on one side, a bunch of strangers gleeful and praying for my life to end on the other, all the years waiting for it to happen... I think it would be better if they just shot me in the head when I wasn't looking.

This process is so barbaric, and we call ourselves civilized.

How can a civilized people devise a whole legal process that allows them to torture and kill people?  Spend millions of dollars doing it? And for what?  I've never killed anyone, how does my death make the world a safer place?

How does even the guiltys death prevent crime?

Yet, while they are killing me, my co-defendant, who confessed to the murders, gets live.

Real murderers got to live.

It doesn't make any sense.

That my life is so being taken on the whim of a politician.

You see in all these movies, read in all these books, someone running from the most horrible thing that can happen to them.

You see them fight struggle to preserve their life.

Running, hiding.

We're shown all over the fear, the terror, of the knife, of the gun, of the man with the axe... how do I run from a politician with an agenda?

From a pen and a piece of paper? 

Where can I hide?

How can I fight back when all the power is taken from my hands, my life is put into some one's whose not paid enough to care?

Can you ever begin to imagine how this feels?

I have spent the last several years looking back over my life, so little of it I've had. I was locked up shortly after my 21st birthday. This is the first time I've ever been to prison and I suppose my last.

I have never really asked much out of life. All I've wanted was to live, to experience things as much as I could; to rest my fingertips on the pulse of the world and follow its beat wherever it leads me, maybe one day find its heart.

I have spent all my "adult years", from my late teens, living on the street, hitchhiking from here to there.  Looking back, I can't really say I have too many regrets, at least, not anything serious.

 Up until this deal here, I got to spend my life as I chose, and that's something a lot of people can't say.  Never once have I had to pay rent, have something tying me to a single place.

Of course, I missed a lot of things most people enjoy, but hey, oh well, right?

But now that's gone now, all that freedom, and I'm dying.

I wish I had the time and energy to tell you exactly what my life was, so that maybe someone would miss it when it's gone.

By the time you read this, hopefully I'll still be alive.

Its doubtful but stranger things have happened.

 But if I am gone, I want you to question it.

Question how an innocent man can be put to death while the murderer lives, is allow to live the people killing me. Believe me, I'm not the first I won't be the last.

But before you leave, look at my portrait here one last time, and ask why? How?

Love and Revolution

Steven Woods

85 Days to Live: Challenging the Protocol

I was sitting here the other night, thinking about my situation, and my line of thinking lead me to ask myself a question: How is each dose of the execution drug properly determined and distributed to each inmate that is up for execution?
Do they just guess the correct dosage?

After a bit of thought, I spoke to my neighbor about it. He told me that it is a doctor who prescribes the dosage, which makes a lot more sense. After all, pentobarbital is a USA schedule 2 controlled substance. This means that it is not available over the counter and TDCJ must have a medical license to acquire it, and a state controlled substance prescription to distribute it. This got me wondering: is there there actually a medical doctor here that fills out a prescription for each condemned inmate in order to fulfill a death warrant? If so, something really needs to be done about that. I am no legal expert and I have no idea if this has ever been challenged in court, but it's my understanding that a medical doctor cannot actually prescribe a drug, knowing that the drug will be used to take a human life.

Remember Dr. Jack Kevorkian? He did time in jail for assisting in his patients deaths. At the very least, I'd say that my MD prescribing a lethal dosage of pentobarbital with the intent of killing a perfectly healthy human, should have his license suspended or revoked.
I may be completely off base with this, seeing as I don't have a clear idea as to how this system works. You see, Texas has taken great pains to shroud it all in secrecy.. But I just don't see how TDCJ can administer a controlled substance without a prescription from a care provider. If a death row inmate feels anxious and needs to take just one benziodiazepine pill (another controlled substance) a prescription is ALWAYS needed.  So someone's signature is on a prescription pad for lethal drugs and I think we should find out who it is. We should also see if this is being done with their knowledge and recommendation or not. If a medical professional is knowingly using their DEA number to hand out lethal drugs, they are acting against the basic oaths & ethics of the medical profession and this individual should be reported. (more info here) If not, something very illegal is going on and legal action must be taken.

If there is a doctor that does in fact prescribe inmates these drug dosages and he has written out a prescription for pentobarbital under MY name, it is my American right to see my own medical records and see whose name is on that prescription.

Now, If I am wrong (and I very well could be) I would like to know how the state has the power to prescribe a fatal dose of a controlled substance without a prescription?
If I had a computer, or even a phone, I would be researching this. Unfortunately, I cannot access either of these devices and have to ask you, the readers, to PLEASE look into the matter at hand.

I know, I know, you probably think I keep grasping at the straws here and you might just think it's hopeless.. but in the next 90 days, Texas will be killing 8 more men with the help of a physician's signature on a pad of paper. It's a matter of life and death. So before you click on the little "x" on the top of this window, please take these 8 healthy beating hearts into consideration. Take 8 mothers into consideration and take the families who have witnessed their loved ones die in front of them into consideration and please, please help us all find some answers.
Something's got to give here. There has got to be something we can do here, this just doesn't add up and it's beyond disturbing.
After 10 years alone in a tiny cement cage, all I can do about this now is write you these letters, hoping someone on the reading end will not overlook them. Hoping that you can fathom how hard it is knowing that even though I've never killed a soul, no one cares enough about my innocence to prevent me from being put down like a rabid dog.

I'm still heartsick. I try and try to have hope that somehow, some way, I will survive this.... But with every passing day, hope wanes. Being on deathwatch & witnessing other men go die has really shown me how serious my situation is. I don't think I ever really believed that this would happen to me. I mean, I knew I was on death row, sure, but in the back of my mind I was always convincing myself that there is NO WAY that the state of Texas would just kill me for a crime everyone knows I didn't commit.  I always assumed that this is all some sort of mistake and that they'll finally realize it and let me out of here alive.
Ha. Joke's on me.

It's difficult to come to terms with the fact that barring a last minute miracle, I am really about to die. I honestly don't even understand why I'm about to die; I never killed anyone, and I never knew that Marcus was going to. I still wonder if Marcus had intended on killing me too that night. I was so grateful to have gotten out of the situation alive after he killed my friend and pointed the gun at me. Little did I know, there wasn't a whole lot to be grateful for.. Ten years later and it looks like despite letting me live that night, Marcus is just going to end up killing me anyway.

89 Days to Live

427
We have another execution here this evening.
I can't say we were best friends, but I've spoken to him every day since I've been on death watch. He was walked off the section not too long ago. They just came and picked up his property. He's never coming back. I don't even know how to come to terms with that. I haven't really paid enough attention to all the executions in the ten years I've been here, but now I have to deal with them all up close. I can't even begin to describe what I'm feeling. We're all human beings, yet they just took this man out to slaughter him like he's nothing. As far as they're concerned, he's been dead since he got here. They had a chaplain come out to keep him passive, watching the property officer roll a couple of bags of what consists of the life he lived for more
than a decade. It was heart breaking.
This is surreal. The guards are all walking around, life is normal.
The fact that a man they've been guarding for a decade is likely going to be killed in a few hours doesn't even slow them down.
The whole wing over here is silent. Occasionally you here someone call out "You hear anything?? Did the courts turn down his last appeal?" or, "Turn it to the Eagle! They're talking about it him" followed by more eerie silence. It's too early anyway, and we won't know anything until later. Suddenly these men, who you all assume are monsters, show a supportive, sympathetic side. They show far more compassion than any of the guards. The rest of the pod I live on, all the inmates are just living what's left of their lives, oblivious, just like I have been for the past 10 years. For 10 years, my life have been consistently filled with death. I used to bury my head in the sand, thankful that the executioner passed me by. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it and it won't touch you... but it's hard to ignore it, when the man is standing in front of you, telling you he is all alone and has no one coming up here to visit him on his last days.
It's hard to ignore it, when he walks off the wing, knowing where is going, knowing what's going to happen to him.
It's hard to ignore it when they wheel out all of his belongings, probably just to throw them all away.
It's hard to ignore it when you have to look it in the face every time it happens..
... and it's harder to ignore it when you too, have an execution date.
I wish the people could see the way we're forced to. I can understand why so few people out there actually care about what's really going on in here; you don't have to face it every morning, every afternoon, every time you close your eyes at night. You don't hear our voices, look into our eyes. I'm hoping I can make this a little less impersonal for you.
In two hours, this man will be dead. He got a 30 second blurb on the evening news. It's upsetting how a mans whole life has just been reduced to two small bags of property and 30 seconds of acknowledgment. He should be eating his last meal right about now.
There's a chaplain running around the wing, trying to act supportive. I can't say I'm too fond of these Chaplains; they're only here to pacify us so that we go meekly to the slaughter. It's not very ethical, if you ask me, for a minister to assist the state in murder.
I can't help but wonder what's going through this man's head right
now. He wasn't handling the situation very well. I imagine the whole process is nerve wracking, sitting ten feet from the death Chamber, wondering what's going on with his appeals. Its got to be hell. If he's one of  "the lucky ones", he will get a stay. He may also get a temporary stay that could be followed by another execution date, only to go through the same morbid, agonizing pre-death ritual again, the moment the stay is lifted.
There's another painful side to these temporary stays: have you thought about the executed men's families?
Picture this: You're traveling out to Texas to part with your son, father, brother or spouse. You say farewell through a thick layer of plexiglas, acknowledging that this is the very last time that you will see your loved one breathing. Just like in any other death row visit, you can't even hold their hand, no matter how bad you want to. You will only be able to hug them when they're dead and TDCJ releases you their body. If you're "lucky", their body will still be warm. Now, imagine having to go through the parting process on several different occasions. There are men here that have received 2 or more stays, only to end up with another execution date. Every time this happens, these mens' families have to pay to venture out, make funeral arrangements, suffer, grieve and say their goodbyes. If you ask me, putting people through this is torture and It fits the criteria for cruel and unusual punishment, since so many innocent people end up hurt.
The reason these temporary stays repeatedly occur is because a panel of judges, at the very last minute, realizes that there's actually a good chance that Texas may just be executing yet another innocent man. You would assume that whoever made the hasty decision to execute a man without looking at all the facts would pay for their inattentiveness. Unfortunately, this is not the case. The only people that end up terribly wounded in this long, torturous process are the inmates and their dedicated friends and families. Bear in mind that due to the Texas Law of Parties, you don't actually have to murder anyone to get the death sentence.

Knowing this, along with the fact that Texas HAS executed innocent men in the past, please tell me, how would you feel if this happened to
someone you love?

R.I.P. LEE TAYLOR

"Today is my last Friday."

That was my friend Lee's response to my "Good morning".

He's in the day room. I didn't even know how to respond to that. I don't even want to think about it. From here on, it will be his last this, last that. Soon as he said that, I started feeling a tightness in my chest. I started getting shaky. I'll be going through what he's going through in 3 months. The time's been going by so fast. I can't imagine how fast it's going for Lee. It seems like I wake up, and the day is over before I know it. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to miss out on even a second of life.

"I'll get enough sleep in 92 days...."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead....."

At least we can joke about it. He looks so worn down. We've been through a lot together.  "This is my last Friday,".... I mean, fuck man. In less than a week they're going to kill my friend and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I keep wracking my brain to come up with something that could get him a stay.. I have an issue for him but he'd have to file his last minute appeal by Tuesday and there's just not enough time. It's so fucking sick that a man with less than one week to live can't get on the phone with his attorney in a last minute effort to save his life.

97 Days to Live

Man, this place is a trip.
They've got all these cameras on us.
One in each cell, two in the walkway in front of the cells, one in each rec yard.
They're always watching us and the watchers have nothing better to do than to mess with us; I just got in trouble for giving a man that will be dead in a few days a roll of toilet paper. I mean, I had an extra roll and I asked the guards to find him some because it's their job to make sure he had basic necessities. When they couldn't find him a roll, I sent him mine. All of a sudden, the guards came storming into my cell saying I was going to get a case for trafficking and trading. HUH??? I gave the man some fucking toilet paper. Some toilet paper that THE STATE gave me.
I didn't ask for anything in return, I didn't trade anything. What the fuck..?
My neighbor also got in trouble for giving another inmate a newspaper for him to read.. This is just illogical. I mean sure, if you see me passing an inmate something in a package, no problem, come inspect the package. If I'm passing contraband, by all means, it's legitimate to write me up.. but to threaten us with cases for sharing our books/magazings/newspapers/food with our neighbors?! These are all things the state is supposed to supply but failed to. There are so many officers here that don't go by policy. Why aren't THEY ever being hassled.
I'm just trying to live out the last of my days in peace. Here I am walking the path of least resistance and I'm not used to the level of passivity I'm displaying. I'm trying my best to let the trivialities slide off my back but they push and push and push...
How much is a man expected to take?

Anyway, thanks for hanging with me, keep your heads up.
Love & Revolution,
Steven Woods


Steven Woods #999427
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351
USA

98 Days to Live

Rough night. I knew the nightmares would start at some point. I didn't think it would be this soon, but I have no control over my subconscious. I had a dream I was locked on to this conveyor belt and all I could move was my head. There were mirrors everywhere. In front of me on the conveyor were my friends Todd Cameron Willingham, Robert Shields, Jonathan Moore, Troy Kunkle, Jason Busby, Richard Cartwright, Reggie Blanton, Kevin Watts and Patrick Knight. All friends, all executed.... After them on the conveyor, I saw Lee Taylor, Lawrence Brewer, Mark Stroman, and then me.
The conveyor would stop and a mechanical arm would come out of a hole in the ceiling, a glistening needle pointing at its tip, and it would drill into the next man's neck.
Some kind of a piston would push the body off of the conveyor, a speaker would say "NEXT!" and the process would start over and over, until I could feel the needle pierce my neck, I could actually feel my body burning, and then- blackness.
I was dead but still dreaming. The second time I could remember that ever happening to me. I woke up drenched. I felt as if the darkness in my cell was closing in all around me, crushing my heart. My throat was burning. I had to fight the panic in order to make it to the toilet in time to vomit. I couldn't stop heaving until well after I was empty.. but it wasn't over. I couldn't draw a breath. I tried to huddle on the floor, outside of the cameras view so that they wouldn't see me broken and I fought off a panic attack that lasted longer than any one I've ever had. I can still kind of feel it a little bit.
It's morning now. I have no idea how long I was on the floor.. I have no clocks, no calendar.. My hands are trembling. When I got up, I went to the door to see if there was anyone awake.. Nope. No one to talk to, nowhere to turn to for any kind of comfort. I thought how bad I wished that I could call my mom.. or a friend. or anyone.. but I was utterly alone. That's how I've spent the last decade and that's how I'll spend the rest of my life, it seems... but I'm up now. and I can breathe.
I keep thinking, 'How the fuck do I fight this?? How do I win??'
I can't even imagine what Lee is going through right now. My heart really goes out to Jen, his wife. I know she's strong as fuck, but this has to be killing her. Stay strong, lady. I don't don't know Jen that well but I do know she's really good people and she doesn't deserve what she's going through at all. None of you who support and love us do. It's amazing to see how you all open yourselves to us, knowing what kind of pain it will cause in the end... and Jen, I really hate to say this, but your boy Tiny is coming back as a grasshopper. I'd bet my appeal on it. ;-)
I have to get ready for rec but thanks for being there and thanks for listening.
Keep your heads up..

Solidarity,

Steven Woods #999447
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, Texas 77351
USA

MAY 24 2011 BLOG: A Correction - by Steven Woods.

I've been posting about how I was sentenced to death under the Law of Parties.  I would like to apologize because that's not wholly the truth. When I was convicted and sentenced to death, my co-defendant, Marcus Rhodes had not yet gone to court. I was tried under the assumption that I was the primary shooter; that I had committed these murders and that Marcus stood on the side and had "minimal" participation.

When I got convicted, the jury convicted me as THE ACTUAL MURDERER. Not as a party to the offense. This fact has been bothering me for a while. The police KNEW Marcus was the murderer. They had the weapons, HIS weapons. They had all of the victims' belongings in HIS car. They had him confess that he in fact WAS at the scene of the murder. Two plus two equals four, right?

The whole of the state's case against me consisted of coerced testimonies (yes, they actually threatened one of the witnesses with jail time if she did not cooperate and they told her what to say) and manufactured evidence (for example, a hat that did not belong to the witness that I would like to test for DNA.)

The District Attorney even tried to fabricate DNA evidence. They had a latex glove that was mishandled by the Denton PD. They tested it for my DNA, even though it was found in Marcus' car. Of course, the state's DNA expert testified that it was MY DNA on that glove. What they didn't anticipate is that my attorney had his own expert re-test the glove. There was no match. Just as I'd predicted, my DNA was not on that glove at all. The state knew this, thats why Judge Lee Gabriel was asked to remove anything about the glove and the mention of DNA from the protocol .

The judge did so, and instructed the jury to disregard the biggest piece of reasonable doubt my defense was able to put forth. We caught them manufacturing  a guilty verdict red handed and they managed to sweep it under the rug.

But I digress.. I was sentenced to death as the actual murderer of Beth and Ron. Three months later, Rhodes stood up in court and confessed. He said HE shot Beth and HE shot Ron, killing both. Not once in my trial did he mention my name. It was only during my appeals process, that the state said, 'Well even if Marcus was the killer, Steven was a party to the offense.."

I wonder how it's fair and how the government can just switch gears like that? The whole goal of the DA was to show that I was the one that supposedly killed Ron and Beth. How can they change their story after it's already set in stone, then torn apart by the truth that I had NOTHING to do with the murder?

The jury NEVER heard anything about me being a party to the offense.

Had they heard Marcus' testimony in which he admits to killing both victims, would I have been convicted?

NO. I would not have.

99 Days to Live

It's so weird to live in a cell with a camera in it. The last 99 days of my life, on display to politicians ans prison administration. I can't even use the toilet without wondering if the Senator is watching. This whole situation is so surreal. I've lived here once before when I didn't actually have a date. My best friend, Patrick Knight had his date. The old authority figures that worked here (and have since moved on) let me live next to him until they killed him. We didn't have cameras on death watch back then, though. I could never really understand what he was going through over here. He tried to explain it, but it's hard to find the words... I don't know. It hasn't really set in for me yet, so I couldn't tell you either. I've been here almost a decade, and even though I've watched several friends go through this shit and eventually die, it's kind of abstract to me. It really is hard to get my head around it all. I spend all day standing at my cell door, talking to men who are going to be dead, some in just a week, some in two weeks, all before me. What struck me is that no one has a problem talking about it. I mean.. not only talking about it, we laugh about it. It's the most serious thing that could possibly happen to us and we've turned it into a joke. The warden walks through...

My friend Mark says, "Warden! I've got a problem!"
The warden says, "What's that?
Mark replies, "Well, I'm allergic to pentobarbital. If you inject me with it, well sir, I might die."
Yeah, should have seen the look on the warden's face trying not to laugh. Morbid humor- but shit, you have to laugh or it will break you. Speaking of breaking, I broke my fast. Everyone and their brother is telling me I should stop fasting so I'm eating again... for the time being. I guess the most persuasive argument for it was 'what's the point of anyone trying to save my life, if I am determined to destroy it'.. OK, y'all win. :-)

I'm going to rest. Keep your heads up out there.