Utah firing squad executes convicted killer

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UPDATE 2:40 p.m.

Jennifer Dobner witnessed Ronnie Lee Gardner’s firing squad execution for The Associated Press.

DRAPER — The explosive reports sent a volley of .30-caliber bullets from the five marksmen into the chest of Ronnie Lee Gardner.

I was expecting to flinch but didn’t as I watched his execution from the witness room.

It was so quick that for a split-second I wondered if it had actually happened.

There was no blood splattered across the white cinderblock wall at the Utah State Prison. No audible sounds from the condemned. I couldn’t see his eyes. I never saw the guns and didn’t hear the countdown to the trigger-pull.

A twice-convicted killer who had a troubled upbringing, the 49-year-old Gardner was executed by firing squad shortly after midnight on Friday. I was one of nine journalists selected to observe his death.

When the prison warden pulled back the beige curtain, Gardner was already strapped into a black, straight-backed metal chair. His head secured by a strap across his forehead. Harness-like straps constrained his chest. His handcuffed arms hung at his sides. A white cloth square — maybe 3 inches across — affixed to his chest over his heart bore a black target.

Seconds before the impact of the bullets, Gardner’s left thumb twitched against his forefinger. When his chest was pierced, he clenched his fist. His arm pulled up slowly as if he were lifting something and then released. The motion repeated.

Although the dark blue prison jumpsuit made it difficult to see, blood seemed to be pooling around Gardner’s waist.

The silence was deafening.

A medical examiner checked Gardner’s pulse on both sides of his neck, then lifted the black hood to check his pupils with a flashlight, offering a brief glimpse of his now ashen face.

It was 12:17 a.m. Only two minutes had passed since the shots were fired, but it felt like things had moved in slow motion.

About an hour later, prison officials let the media inspect the chamber. There was a strong smell of bleach, but no sign of blood.

The only evidence that a man had been shot and killed there were four holes from the bullets that impaled the black wood panels behind the chair. Right to left, the distance between them a few inches.

Prison officials say Gardner willing made the 90-foot walk to the execution chamber Friday morning. That’s hard to imagine, particularly from Gardner, who by his own accounts had spent much of the 30 years he was incarcerated “obsessed” with escape.

The state classifies executions as homicides. But this hadn’t been like other homicides I had covered over my 15-plus years in journalism. In those instances, the media showed up after the death, not before.

This, however, was a meticulously orchestrated event with a sober, prepackaged ending.

Despite being surrounded by dozens of prison officials and witnesses, Gardner essentially died alone.

No one from his family watched him go. Nor were his attorneys present.

Similarly, Gardner chose not to utter any final thoughts or feelings.

Maybe it was his way of holding on to a small slice of privacy amid his very public death.

UPDATE 2:23 p.m.

DRAPER — A barrage of bullets tore into Ronnie Lee Gardner’s chest where a target had been pinned over his heart. Two minutes later, the twice-convicted killer was pronounced dead as blood pooled in his dark blue prison jumpsuit.

It was the first time in 14 years that an American inmate was executed by firing squad — a method Gardner choose over lethal injection. But death penalty opponents around the world reacted with horror all the same, renewing an international debate about capital punishment in the U.S.

Gardner was the third man to die by firing squad since the Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976.

Unlike Gary Gilmore, who famously said “Let’s do it” before he was shot on Jan. 17, 1977, Gardner offered few words. Asked if he had anything to say before a black hood was fastened over his head, he said simply, “I do not, no.”

The five executioners were police officers who volunteered for the task. They stood about 25 feet away, behind a wall cut with a gunport.

One of their .30-caliber Winchester rifles was loaded with a blank so no one would know who fired the fatal shots. Gardner was in a straight-backed metal chair, with sandbags stacked around it to keep the bullets from ricocheting around the cinderblock room at the Utah State Prison.

Nine journalists were permitted to observe the execution, including one from The Associated Press.

When the prison warden pulled back the beige curtain covering the witness room, Gardner was strapped into the chair, his head secured by a strap across his forehead.

Harness-like straps also constrained his chest. His arms were at his sides, handcuffed and strapped to the chair. Affixed to his chest was a white cloth square about 3 inches wide bearing a black target.

The AP reporter never saw the rifles and did not hear the countdown to the trigger-pull. Utah Department of Corrections Director Thomas Patterson said the countdown went “5-4-3...” with the shooters starting to fire at the count of 2.

Seconds before the bullets hit him, Gardner’s left thumb twitched against his forefinger. When his chest was pierced, he clenched his fist. His arm pulled up slowly as if he were lifting something and then released. The motion repeated.

There was no blood splattered across the white cinderblock wall and no audible sounds from the condemned. Although the dark blue prison jumpsuit made it difficult to see, blood seemed to be pooling around Gardner’s waist.

As the medical examiner checked for vital signs, the hood was pulled back, revealing Gardner’s ashen face. His head was tilted back and to the right and his mouth slightly open. He was pronounced dead at 12:17 a.m.

About an hour later, reporters were allowed to inspect the chamber. There was a strong smell of bleach but no sign of blood. The only evidence that a man had been shot were four small holes where the bullets struck the black wood panels behind the chair.

Gardner was sentenced to death in 1985 for fatally shooting an attorney during a failed escape attempt from a Salt Lake City courthouse.

At the time, he was facing a murder charge in the 1984 shooting death of a bartender named Melvyn Otterstrom. Gardner pulled out a gun that had been smuggled into the courthouse and shot lawyer Michael Burdell in the face as Burdell hid behind a door.

In April, a judge ordered the execution to proceed, and Gardner politely declared, “I would like the firing squad, please.”

He was allowed to choose the firing squad because he was sentenced to death before Utah eliminated it as an option. State officials scrapped it in 1984 after previous executions attracted unwanted publicity.

Of the 49 executions carried out in the state since the 1850s, 40 were by firing squad. Before Gardner’s death, the most recent was John Albert Taylor, who was executed on Jan. 26, 1996, for raping and strangling an 11-year-old girl.

Historians say the firing squad persisted in Utah long after the rest of the nation abandoned it because of the 19th century doctrine of the state’s predominant religion. Early members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believed in the concept of “blood atonement” — that only through spilling one’s own blood could a condemned person adequately atone for their crimes and be redeemed in the next life.

The church no longer promotes such teachings and offers no opinion on the use of the firing squad.

The European Union issued a statement Friday expressing its “profound regret” for the execution.

“The EU reiterates its universal opposition to the use of capital punishment and urges the immediate establishment of a global moratorium on its use with a view to abolition,” the statement said.

The American Civil Liberties Union decried Gardner’s execution as an example of the “barbaric, arbitrary and bankrupting practice of capital punishment.” Religious leaders called for an end to the death penalty at an interfaith vigil Thursday evening in Salt Lake City.

“Murdering the murderer doesn’t create justice or settle any score,” said Rev. Tom Goldsmith of the First Unitarian Church.

Gardner, who once described himself as a “nasty little bugger” with a mean streak, spent his last day sleeping, reading the novel “Divine Justice,” watching the “Lord of the Rings” film trilogy and meeting with his attorneys and a Mormon bishop.

Members of his family gathered outside the prison, some wearing T-shirts displaying his prisoner number, 14873.

“I don’t agree with what he done or what they done, but I’m relieved he’s free,” Gardner’s brother, Randy Gardner, said after the execution. “He’s had a rough life. He’s been incarcerated and in chains his whole damn life. Now he’s free. I’m happy he’s free, just sad the way he went.”

None of Gardner’s relatives witnessed the execution, at Gardner’s request.

“I would have liked to be there for him. I love him to death. He’s my little brother,” Randy Gardner said.

Burdell’s family opposed the death penalty and asked for Gardner’s life to be spared. Relatives of Otterstrom lobbied the parole board to reject Gardner’s request for clemency and a reduced sentence.

Otterstrom’s cousin, Craig Watson, witnessed the execution on behalf of his family.

A police officer with 35 years on the job, Watson said Gardner accepted the punishment “like a man.” Gardner, he noted, seemed calm before the hood was slipped on.

“There was no crying, no wimpering,” Watson said Friday. “When it was over with, I just had this feeling that he’s gone and we can move on.”

Associated Press writers Paul Foy and Rich Matthews contributed to this report.

UPDATE 6:45 am:

DRAPER -- Death row inmate Ronnie Lee Gardner died in a barrage of bullets early Friday as Utah carried out its first firing squad execution in 14 years.

Shortly before the shooting, Gardner was strapped into a chair and a team of five marksmen aimed their guns at a white target pinned to his chest.

He was pronounced dead at 12:20 a.m.

Utah adopted lethal injection as the default execution method in 2004, but Gardner was one still allowed to choose the controversial firing squad option because he was sentenced before the law changed. He told his lawyer he did it because he preferred it -- not because he wanted the controversy surrounding the execution to draw attention to his case or embarrass the state.

Some decried the execution as barbaric, and about two dozen members of Gardner's family held a vigil outside the prison as he was shot. There were no protests at the prison.

The executioners were all certified police officers who volunteered for the task and remain anonymous. They stood about 25 feet from Gardner, behind a wall cut with a gunport, and were armed with a matched set of .30-caliber Winchester rifles. One was loaded with a blank so no one knows who fired the fatal shot. Sandbags stacked behind Gardner's chair kept the bullets from ricocheting around the cinderblock room.

Gardner was sentenced to death for a 1985 capital murder conviction stemming from the fatal courthouse shooting of attorney Michael Burdell during a failed escape attempt. Gardner was at the Salt Lake City court facing a 1984 murder charge in the shooting death of a bartender, Melvyn Otterstrom.

Gardner and his defense attorneys fought to stop the execution to the end. They filed petitions with state and federal courts, asked a Utah parole board to commute his sentence to life in prison without parole, and finally unsuccessfully appealed to Utah Gov. Gary Herbert and the U.S. Supreme Court.

Gardner even tried to appeal to the general public, setting up an interview with CNN's "Larry King Live." But the Utah Department of Corrections canceled the phone interview minutes before it was scheduled to take place Wednesday.

Gardner spent his last day sleeping, reading the novel "Divine Justice," watching the "Lord of the Rings" film trilogy and meeting with his attorneys and a bishop with the Mormon church. A prison spokesman said officers described his mood as relaxed. He had eaten his last requested meal -- steak, lobster tail, apple pie, vanilla ice cream and 7UP -- two days earlier.

Members of his family gathered outside the prison, some wearing T-shirts displaying his prisoner number, 14873. None planned to witness the execution, at Gardner's request.

"He didn't want nobody to see him get shot," said Gardner's brother, Randy Gardner. "I would have liked to be there for him. I love him to death. He's my little brother."

Gardner's attorneys argued the jury that sentenced him to death in 1985 heard no mitigating evidence that might have led them to instead impose a life sentence for the man who described himself as a "nasty little bugger." Gardner's life was marked by early drug addiction, physical and sexual abuse and possible brain damage, court records show.

"I had a very explosive temper," Gardner admitted.

The execution process was set in motion in March when the U.S. Supreme Court rejected a request from Gardner's attorney to review the case. On April 23, state court Judge Robin Reese signed a warrant ordering the state to carry out the death sentence.

At that hearing, Gardner declared, "I would like the firing squad, please."

The firing squad has been Utah's most-used form of capital punishment. Of the 49 executions held in the state since the 1850s, 40 were by firing squad.

Gardner was the third man killed by state marksmen since a U.S. Supreme Court ruling reinstated capital punishment in 1976. The other two were Gary Gilmore, who famously uttered the last words "Let's do it" on Jan. 17, 1977; and John Albert Taylor on Jan. 26, 1996, for raping and strangling an 11-year-old girl.

Historians say the method stems from 19th Century doctrine of the state's predominant religion. Early members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believed in the concept of "blood atonement" -- that only through spilling one's own blood could a condemned person adequately atone for their crimes and be redeemed in the next life. The church no longer preaches such teachings and offers no opinion on the use of the firing squad.

The American Civil Liberties Union decried Gardner's execution as an example of what it called the United States' "barbaric, arbitrary and bankrupting practice of capital punishment."

At an interfaith vigil in Salt Lake City on Thursday evening, religious leaders called for an end to the death penalty.

"Murdering the murderer doesn't create justice or settle any score," said Rev. Tom Goldsmith of the First Unitarian Church.

Burdell's family opposes the death penalty and asked for Gardner's life to be spared. In a taped statement, Burdell's father, Joseph Burdell, Jr., said he believes his son's death was not premeditated, but a "knee-jerk reaction" by a desperate Gardner attempting to escape.

But Otterstrom's family lobbied the parole board against Gardner's request for clemency and a reduced sentence.

George "Nick" Kirk, was a bailiff at the courthouse the day of Gardner's botched escape. Shot and wounded in the lower abdomen, Kirk suffered chronic health problems the rest of his life.

Kirk's daughter, Tami Stewart, said before the execution she believed Gardner's death would bring her family some closure.

"I think at that moment, he will feel that fear that his victims felt," she said.

At his commutation hearing, Gardner shed a tear after telling the board his attempts to apologize to the Otterstroms and Kirks had been unsuccessful. He said he hoped for forgiveness.

"If someone hates me for 20 years, it's going to affect them," Gardner said. "I know killing me is going to hurt them just as bad. It's something you have to live with every day. You can't get away from it. I've been on the other side of the gun. I know."

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Associated Press Writer Paul Foy contributed to this report.