I was wrongfully convicted by the state of Texas for capital murder in 2002. Three months after I was convicted, the real murderer, Marcus Rhodes stood up in court and testified that he was the one who knowingly and intentionally killed both victims. He never once mentioned me. There is no physical evidence connecting me to the crime scene. Marcus' fingerprints were all over the murder weapons. Mine were not. The victims' backpacks were in Marcus' car, which was littered with bullet casings. Most, if not ALL of what the prosecution said about me was false. My family will be happy to confirm this. It makes no difference though. I am here to take blame for this crime, so that a rich, well-connected family would not have to deal with negative media and the burdens that come with death row. How convenient. Well, not really. Not for my family. The next time my mom will get to hug me or even hold my hand will be this September, after I'm dead. Funny how at some point I believed I was going to have a future. I somehow convinced myself that everyone would know that something just isn't right, and they'd act on it. So much for that.
I'm not sure when I lost all hope. Not that it matters. Either way, all I can ever do is sit around in confinement 23 hours a day, waiting to die, expecting it. Imagine waking up every day in a hot humid cell, knowing that you didn't do anything to find yourself there. Knowing that so many people know that they got the wrong person, but no one can be bothered to waste their time fighting for you. Knowing that you will be executed on September 13 2011, at the age of 31. It will be a Tuesday. At around 5:45 a man in a suit will come to get me. He'll have 6-8 large men with him in case I'm not willing to cooperate. We'll go about fifteen feet to another room. This one's centerpiece will be a kind of table, it will be the same table all my friends lied down on before they died. Each side of the table will have boards and heavy duty straps. They'll get me on this table and strap me in, and a man who isn't a doctor, but will be wearing a doctor's smock, will put a shunt in my vein. I'll be completely restrained, barely able to even move my head. Facing the table, there will be windows. The curtains will be pushed aside, so that some spectators can look at me die. On one side people are hoping for my painful death, the other completely devastated by what's about to happen. I will have a moment to make a kind of statement, never to talk again.
Time's up. Someone behind a window will push a button and poison will flow from a hose into the shunt in my vein; First an anesthetic, second something to shut my lungs down and third a sedative and enough barbiturates to explode my heart. I will suffer both cardiac arrest and suffocation. It just does not seem right. I've seen my friends go through it and it terrifies me. Even writing about it gives me a panic attack. Can you imagine it? What it would be like? The build up sitting in a cage for a decade, completely removed from the world without having any human contact what-so-ever? Living with the knowledge that whenever they decide it's your time they can simply shut you off? I hope you don't ever have to experience it. I'll take some kind of terminal illness over this hell anytime. Then at least there would be a reason or explanation for it...I just don't get it.
PLEASE REPOST!!!
To write Steven personally:
Steven Woods #999427
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351
USA
[Thanks to our friends www.abolitionuk.org for spreading the word about Steven Woods!]
I'm not sure when I lost all hope. Not that it matters. Either way, all I can ever do is sit around in confinement 23 hours a day, waiting to die, expecting it. Imagine waking up every day in a hot humid cell, knowing that you didn't do anything to find yourself there. Knowing that so many people know that they got the wrong person, but no one can be bothered to waste their time fighting for you. Knowing that you will be executed on September 13 2011, at the age of 31. It will be a Tuesday. At around 5:45 a man in a suit will come to get me. He'll have 6-8 large men with him in case I'm not willing to cooperate. We'll go about fifteen feet to another room. This one's centerpiece will be a kind of table, it will be the same table all my friends lied down on before they died. Each side of the table will have boards and heavy duty straps. They'll get me on this table and strap me in, and a man who isn't a doctor, but will be wearing a doctor's smock, will put a shunt in my vein. I'll be completely restrained, barely able to even move my head. Facing the table, there will be windows. The curtains will be pushed aside, so that some spectators can look at me die. On one side people are hoping for my painful death, the other completely devastated by what's about to happen. I will have a moment to make a kind of statement, never to talk again.
Time's up. Someone behind a window will push a button and poison will flow from a hose into the shunt in my vein; First an anesthetic, second something to shut my lungs down and third a sedative and enough barbiturates to explode my heart. I will suffer both cardiac arrest and suffocation. It just does not seem right. I've seen my friends go through it and it terrifies me. Even writing about it gives me a panic attack. Can you imagine it? What it would be like? The build up sitting in a cage for a decade, completely removed from the world without having any human contact what-so-ever? Living with the knowledge that whenever they decide it's your time they can simply shut you off? I hope you don't ever have to experience it. I'll take some kind of terminal illness over this hell anytime. Then at least there would be a reason or explanation for it...I just don't get it.
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| Steven Woods on Death Row |
PLEASE REPOST!!!
To write Steven personally:
Steven Woods #999427
Polunsky Unit
3872 FM 350 South
Livingston, TX 77351
USA
[Thanks to our friends www.abolitionuk.org for spreading the word about Steven Woods!]
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