Judgment Day

Photo credit: Katie Cooper

England 1885

When the two guards had left the room, there were only five of us remaining: myself, the prison governor, the medical officer, the executioner and the condemned man.

In his usual meticulous way, the executioner adjusted the convict’s foot position until he was standing at precisely the correct point on the trap doors of the scaffold. As he took a step back, he stared at me very directly. It occurred to me that the burden of years in this work was troubling him – it was said that he had been growing increasingly unhappy in his profession.

I had been in this room on similar occasions many times – as vicar of the parish it was my duty to give whatever service I could to these wretched men sentenced to hang. There were those, of course, who were angry to the end: I could do little for them except warn them of the great danger to their souls should they not repent.

I had compassion, however, for the convict to be executed this morning. He was a murderer – that was the verdict to which the judge and jury had come although some said that the evidence against him was insubstantial. It was true that he had a background of conviction for theft but despite that he seemed to me to be a decent man – I knew his face at once from having seen him often in the congregation at church. We had talked for an hour yesterday and I could not believe that he had committed murder. When I had given him an opportunity to confess his sins, he had replied that he had already been at prayer to make his peace with God.

At 8 a.m. the prison governor read out the sentence; the executioner shook hands with the convict; then, in what seemed almost like a single movement, he slipped the rope around his neck and a linen hood over his head – skilful, indeed.

I said a prayer of a few words commending the soul of the condemned man to the mercy of God. The governor bowed his head to the executioner. Then the executioner pulled the lever to release the trap doors and send the convict to his death.

There was a noise like a loud knocking. The convict cried out. But the trap doors did not open. A silence followed. Then the governor nodded to the executioner a second time and he again pulled the lever. There was a knocking noise but no movement of the trap doors. By this stage the convict’s body was in spasm. He was as stiff as a board.

A thought immediately occurred to me, and I felt impelled to speak out boldly, ‘Governor! In my opinion you should put a stop to this execution.’

‘With respect, Vicar, I don’t believe that I should,’ he replied calmly. ‘It was Mr Justice Manisty, the Crown Judge, who condemned the man to hang.’

‘But what has happened here today is very unusual, is it not?’ I said. ‘Could it be, Governor, that a power higher than the Crown may be telling us that the judge has made a mistake?’

The governor did not answer me, but turned to the door of the room and called the guards in. They moved the convict away from the trap doors and the executioner went down below the scaffold to check the mechanism. When he returned he was obviously perplexed. Once again, he looked directly at me with knitted brows.

He placed a sandbag on the trap doors and pulled the lever. The doors opened immediately sending the bag crashing down into the chamber below. The convict stood on the trap doors once more, but they did not open when the executioner pulled the lever.

Much to my relief, the medical officer raised his hand. ‘I can no longer participate in these proceedings, Governor,’ he said. ‘I would recommend that you seek the counsel of the Home Secretary before we proceed any further.’

At that point, the executioner spoke for the first time, his voice very emotional. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen. There’s nothing wrong with the trap doors. They are in good order. But perhaps the vicar is correct. Perhaps they won’t open because this man doesn’t deserve the death sentence.’

He took the convict’s place on the trap doors and placed the noose around his own neck.

‘Pull the lever please, Sir,’ he said to the governor.

‘I certainly will not, you fool!’ replied the governor angrily.

It was then that the executioner turned to me with suffering written all over his face.

‘Won’t you help me, Vicar?’ he shouted. ‘You’re a man of God. Will He show mercy to me too?’ I beg you! Pull the lever!’

His voice was so loud in the small room that I couldn’t think clearly. I took a step forward.

Postscript

In 1885, the authorities in Exeter were unable to execute John Lee after the trap doors of the scaffold failed to open three times. His sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. He was released in 1907.

 (Thanks to my daughter Katie for her editorial advice.)