THURSDAY AT 5:30 p.m.
Charles Montgomery had a half hour left to live.
He had eaten his last meal from a vending machine.
A barbecue sandwich and a can of Coke.
His stomach would not have to digest the meal.
Bogart, Decker, and Mars were sitting in the front row of one of the viewing rooms. Jamison had elected not to come. Davenport was immediately behind Decker in the second row. There were three other people in the room. Two were journalists and one was with the Alabama State Bar. None of the families of the victims had come except for Mars.
The journalists had recognized Mars and had tried to interview him, but Bogart had flashed his badge and quickly put a stop to that.
The curtains were pulled so that the death chamber was not currently visible. In an adjacent room the family of the condemned was allowed to sit. The curtains were also closed there, so they didn’t know if Regina Montgomery was here or not.
Mars was looking nervous and there were beads of sweat on his face although the room was cool.
Decker noted this and put a large hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You gonna hold it together? Or you want to get out of here?”
Mars bent over and took several deep breaths. “I was just thinking how close I came to this.”
Decker removed his hand. “But it’s not you, Melvin. It’s the other guy. But we can leave if you want.”
Mars straightened. “No, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Bogart leaned over and said, “They’re coming.”
A dozen correctional officers surrounded Montgomery as he left the holding cell where he had been brought the previous Tuesday. They were led to the death chamber by a pastor holding a Bible and saying a prayer. A hymn was being played over the sound system.
The gurney had been removed from the chamber and the electric chair had been brought out of storage. Nicknamed “Yellow Mama,” because its color came from the yellow paint used on highway lines, it had been built by a British inmate in the 1920s. It was massive and sturdy-looking.
His head bowed, the pastor peeled away and went to the viewing area where Decker and the others were. He took his seat at the end of the row and began reading his Bible.
The correctional officers escorted Montgomery into the chamber. Then the curtains were opened so that Montgomery could see into the visitor rooms.
Decker and the others now saw that Regina Montgomery was indeed in attendance. Her son was not with her.
Montgomery’s gaze lingered on his wife for a few moments but no words were said or even mouthed between them. Finally, Regina looked away.
The warden read the death warrant out loud and Montgomery was asked if he wanted to say any last words.
He looked at his wife again. He started to say something, then shook his head and looked away from her. Then his gaze found and settled on Melvin Mars. The two men stared at each other for a long, torturous moment.
Montgomery again looked away without saying anything. His expression wasn’t one of remorse; to Decker it looked more like one of disgust.
The warden went into another adjacent room where there was a man on the phone. This was to make sure that there was no last-minute reprieve of the death sentence from the governor.
There wasn’t, and the warden gave the appropriate signal.
Ten of the officers left the room, passing by the warden as he returned to the death chamber. The two remaining officers readied Montgomery by taking off his handcuffs and leg chains, placing him in the chair, and strapping down his arms, legs, and head to the wood of Yellow Mama.
The metal helmet connected to the electrodes was placed on his head and then a hood was placed over that. There were also electrodes attached to his arms and legs. The power supply to the chair was plugged in.
The warden went into the generator room, where he engaged the equipment by pulling on several levers.
Mars gripped the armrest of his chair and his breaths grew ragged.
Decker put an arm around Mars’s shoulders. “Almost over,” he murmured. He glanced over at Regina Montgomery. She was looking down at the floor.
Decker looked back at Montgomery. He couldn’t see the man’s face because of the hood, but his entire body was tensed against the yellow wood. He looked like a figure carved in stone on its throne.
One of the officers picked up a sign that read Ready and held it against the glass window leading into the generator room.
The two officers left the chamber and they all heard the door slam.
One of the officers gave the requisite signal by knocking twice on the door. The warden immediately sent the first of two power surges to the chair, eight amps and 1,850 volts, that lasted thirty-four seconds each.
Decker watched as Montgomery slammed back against the chair as the current hit him like a tank round. He lashed against the restraints. An electrode tore away from his leg as he thrashed. Smoke started to rise off his head. The smell of charred flesh permeated the viewing room.
There was a scream and they looked over in time to see Regina Montgomery faint and topple out of her chair to the floor. Footsteps were heard as prison personnel rushed to aid her.
The second surge of current hit Montgomery and he started to shake uncontrollably. They heard him scream, gasp, scream again, and then he fell forward, kept in the chair solely by the restraints.
The smell of burned flesh became even stronger; it seemed to be driven right into their pores.
As they watched, a small flickering flame rose from the cloth hood before dying out, along with the occupant of the chair.
“Oh my God,” hissed Davenport. She jumped up and rushed from the room. They could hear her being sick outside in the hall.
Next came the sound of the generator providing the electricity powering down and growing silent.
The curtains were drawn and the image of the dead man, smoke still rising off him, was gone. They heard more rushing feet and then the sounds of a fire extinguisher being deployed.
It was over.