COLUMBIA, S.C. — Throughout my career, I’ve borne witness to the executions of 11 men at a South Carolina prison, observing through the protective barrier of glass and bars. Despite having witnessed ten executions before, none adequately prepared me for the firing squad execution of Brad Sigmon on a recent Friday night.
As an unprecedented experience for a reporter in the United States, I have now seen three types of execution methods: nine lethal injections and one via electric chair. The unmistakable memory of the electric chair execution’s breaker falling remains vivid, even 21 years later.
Journalistic preparation involves thorough research. I reviewed the case details and the specifics surrounding Sigmon’s scheduled death. In the days leading up to the execution, I delved into the grisly outcomes of firing squads, even examining the autopsy photos of the last person executed by this method in Utah in 2010.
I also revisited trial records of Sigmon, during which prosecutors had detailed his brutal actions back in 2001. Sigmon heinously bludgeoned his ex-girlfriend’s parents with a baseball bat, fatally striking each person nine times in their Greenville County home.
But secrets remain a part of the execution protocol, leaving some matters beyond the reach of advance preparation. The unpredictability of witnessing a close-range firing squad execution firsthand introduced an element of uncertainty.
The firing squad execution is quick and particularly violent compared to lethal injections, generating an intense atmosphere. Anxiety brewed as Sigmon’s attorney delivered his final statement. As a hood was placed over Sigmon’s head, a curtain was drawn back to reveal three prison volunteers poised with rifles.
Within a short period, the sound of shots being fired resonated abruptly, causing a startled reaction. The target, a white surface with a red bullseye positioned over Sigmon’s chest and contrasting with his black jumpsuit, vanished as his body convulsed. The scene was reminiscent of the electrical jolt experienced by a prisoner two decades earlier.
Amidst managing the various viewpoints: a digital clock to my right, Sigmon to my left, and the scene of shooters and other witnesses before me, a jagged red patch emerged on Sigmon’s chest. His body moved slightly two or three times, but there was no other noise besides the rifle discharge.
In less than a minute, a doctor appeared to confirm Sigmon’s death by 6:08 p.m. Shortly after, we exited through the same entrance we’d used previously. The sun was setting, painting the sky in pink and purple hues that starkly contrasted against the sterile environment of the execution chamber.
The chamber, a mere five-minute drive from the Department of Corrections headquarters, sits along a bustling suburban highway. I’ve always observed the surroundings post-execution, noting a pasture with cows and distant razor wire fencing around the prison.
Guard presence was noticeable everywhere, and we lingered in vans outside the chamber for approximately 15 minutes. Without access to watches, phones, or any electronic devices due to security measures, I relied solely on pen and pad.
Taking in my surroundings, my view touched upon the thin, barred windows of the death row area, housing 28 inmates at the start of the day, now reduced to 27. This number had dropped from 31 since last August as executions resumed following a lengthy hiatus due to a shortage of lethal injection drugs. South Carolinian inmates can now choose between lethal injection, electrocution, or the firing squad.
Having witnessed multiple executions in recent months, I recall the eye contact exchanged with Freddie Owens during his execution on September 20. Similarly, Richard Moore, executed on November 1, appeared serene, gazing towards the ceiling whilst his lawyer, who had formed a bond over extensive legal battles, was visibly moved. Marion Bowman Jr. looked at his attorney with a smile before meeting his fate on January 31.
Memories of other executions are vivid as well, whether it be the confrontation of killers by victims’ families or a grieving mother weeping for her son on the other side of the barrier.
The unsettling crack of rifles during Sigmon’s execution left a lasting impression, reminiscent of the breaker’s thunk from a previous execution. Sigmon’s communication attempts with his lawyer before having the hood placed over him are etched in my mind.
I anticipate returning to the Broad River Correctional Institution on April 11, as two more death row inmates have exhausted their appeals and are likely to be scheduled for execution at interval periods. Counting these, I would have witnessed more than a quarter of all executions in South Carolina since the death penalty’s reinstatement.