“At five P.M., he ate his last meal. His request was sirloin steak, salad, a baked potato, and pecan pie, which we had prepared for him at Bonanza Steak House. He didn’t pick the restaurant. The inmates don’t get to do that. And, as is the routine, there were two identical meals ordered. The inmate eats one, a member of the death team eats the other. And this is all to make sure some overly enthusiastic chef doesn’t decide to speed up the inmate’s journey to the Great Beyond by spicing the food with something extra like arsenic.

“Did Waddell eat his meal?” I asked, thinking about his empty stomach “He wasn’t real hungry - asked us to save it for him to eat the next day.”

“He must have thought Governor Norring was going to pardon him,” Marino said.

“I don’t know what he thought. I’m just reporting to you what Waddell said when he was served his meal. Afterward, at seven-thirty, personal property officers came to his cell to take an inventory of his property and ask him what he wanted done with it. We’re talking about one wristwatch, one ring, various articles of clothing and mail, books, poetry. At eight P.M., he was taken from his cell. His head, face, and right ankle were shaved. He was weighed, showered, and dressed in the clothing he would wear to the chair. Then he was returned to his cell.

“At ten-forty- five, his death warrant was read to him, witnessed by the death team.”

Roberts got up from the desk “Then he was led, without restraints, to the adjoining room.”

“What was his demeanor at this point?” Marino asked as Roberts unlocked another door and opened it.

“Let’s just say that his racial affiliation did not permit him to be white as a sheet. Otherwise, he would’ve been.”

The room was smaller than I had imagined. About six from the back wall and centered on the shiny brown cement floor was the chair, a stark, rigid throne of dark polished oak Thick leather straps were looped around high slatted back, the two front legs, and the arm rests.

“Waddell was seated and the first strap fastened-was the chest strap,” Roberts continued in the same indifferent tone. “Then the two arm straps, the belly strap, and the straps for the legs.”

He roughly plucked at each strap as he talked. “It took one minute to strap him in. His face was covered with the leather mask - and I’ll show you that in a minute. The helmet was placed on his head, the leg piece attached to his right leg.”

I got out my camera, a ruler, and photocopies of Waddell’s body diagrams.

“At exactly two minutes past eleven, he received the first current - that’s twenty-flue hundred volts and six and a half amps. Two amps will kill you, by the way.”

The injuries marked on Waddell’s body diagrams correlated nicely with the construction of the chair and its restraints.