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I write these letters from the prison in which I am waiting
for the last minute of the last hour given unto me by the state
of Texas, whereby I shall walk down that green mile in chains
and be brought before my final judgment. And I go to my death
knowing that it were the Devil, himself, who sent me here, but
it were my hands done the killing none the less.
But here I am, and here I stand, a man who is truly guilty
of the crimes laid at his feet. I got nothing to say in my defense,
other than to tell you that I could have been any one of you.
And you best be thanking God every day of your life that it were
me the Devil done found, instead of you.
Do not feel sorry for me, but for those I happened upon
while the Devil was driving. Do not believe in his lies, but
in the power of Lord Jesus Christ. And do not ever forget that
we are called upon to love and serve one another as ourselves.
These final confessions from death row are my gift to you.
Please heed them, and do not follow the mistakes I have made.
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This story was told to me by another man who the Devil lied
to. He was promised power, wealth and the pleasures of the flesh
for as long as he may live, so long as he did what that little
voice in his left ear told him to do. And he did these all these
horrible things, for he had not the wits to see where it would
all lead, nor the compassion to weigh his life with the lives
of others.
He says the compassion done bled out of him with his first
killing, who was his own mother. She who bore him into the world
in sin was the first to taste his bitterness at the fruit he
had been given. He says that he always knew he would kill her,
but he did not know how, or when, or why, until he did see that
dark and fallen angel. After that night, much that was hidden
did become clear.
The man was a young boy when he first met the Devil, though
he did not know his true nature for many years. He saw him out
of the corners of his eyes as he played with the other children
in his school, making boys smaller than himself eat handfuls
of dirt and crushed, wet worms. He smelled his breath on his
neck as he sat in his church on Saturday nights, dreaming of
the girls in his youth group and how they would sound as he lay
on top of them. He felt him nearby as he walked the roads at
night, waiting for the right moment to throw a rock at a window,
or use his pocketknife to let the air from a car's tires.
And he felt the Devil, too. He felt him inside. He
felt him when his daddy hit him with the back of his fist just
because he looked like he was gonna cry. He felt him when his
momma sat and smoked her cigarettes on the back porch, putting
a chop of meat over her new black eye and doing nothing to stop
her man from hitting her boy. He felt him when he went to his
room without supper, dreaming of the day when he would be big
enough and strong enough to let his daddy feel what he felt,
and pay the old man back, blow for blow and kick for kick.
He never got the chance, though. His daddy died in town at
work, one day when he was maybe twelve. The way his momma told
it, a whole wall just fell down on him and his friends while
they were eating lunch. They had to cremate his remains because
there was so very little left to bury.
And when he was standing there, all dressed up in an itchy
suit and tie with his mother and her new man, watching them put
his daddy's ashes into the wall, he heard the Devil for the first
time ever. And the Prince of Lies said "You're welcome."
It was the start of a mad, bad friendship. After that day,
the Devil told him "you're welcome" an awful lot. He
told him "you're welcome" when he made even the big
boys afraid of him. He told him "you're welcome" when
he gave him the power to make the girls want to lay under him.
He told him "you're welcome" when he made it so that
he could steal and never be caught.
And he told him "you're welcome" when he beat his
momma's new man into the hospital for trying to tell him about
Lord Jesus Christ. He didn't need to know Jesus anymore. He had
the best friend in the whole wide world, right there in his head.
The Devil made him the biggest, baddest boy in the town, and
he could do what he wanted, take what he wanted and go anywhere
he wanted.
But that was all in his childhood. There comes a time, the
Bible says, when a man must put aside childish things and become
a man. And the Devil agrees.
One day, when he was too old to go to school anymore, the
Devil came to him. And the Devil told him that his services were
no longer for free. From now on, if he wanted to have the power
that he had enjoyed, he would have to earn it.
What must I do to earn it? He asked. And the Devil replied
Whatever I tell you, my servant. No matter what it is, if I say
it, you will do it.
Now do we have us a deal? the Devil asked. And he, being foolish,
much like I too was foolish, agreed to the Devil's demand. He
signed his name in blood, much as I did, and from that day on
he was the Devil's own, body and soul.
At first, the deal was easy, because the Devil only asked
for things that he would have wanted anyway. He hurt men who
offended him. He took women who spurned him. He stole things
he could not afford and traveled far and wide in one car after
another. He went all places, and did all manner of things as
the Devil commanded him.
But eventually, the Devil asked for more things. Before long,
he was laying atop people he would not have ever wanted to, and
hurting those who he bore no ill will towards. He stole things
he did not need nor want, and went places he had no desire to
go.
Soon, he began to disobey. It was small things, at first,
but soon he got bold enough to resist big things, and the Devil
started to punish him whenever he resisted. He would strike him
blind, or show him horrible demons from beyond the gates of Hell.
He would make his eyes bleed, and make him vomit and evacuate
his bowels. He would make his entire body be wracked with pain,
and be covered with boils and sores.
My freind could have stopped this torment at any moment, and
he knows this, now. He knows that he could have called upon the
Lord Jesus Christ and rebuked Satan, driving the Prince of Lies
far away from him. Even a wretched sinner like himself could
have still asked Lord Jesus into his heart, for did not Jesus
pardon a murderer while upon that cross?
But he was selfish and foolish, and the power the Devil gave
him was too much to let go. So he did what he was told, and took
his punishments when he would not do what he was told. And he
worshiped his lord and master Satan, the Prince of Lies, and
swore to him unyielding and unending service.
The last straw, as far as the Devil was concerned, came in
a small town in Alabama. He burned down a church with a hundred
people in it, but each and every one of them got out alive. And
they got out alive because he had left the doors clear, even
though the Devil said to shore up those doors so they couldn't
get out.
This made the Devil very angry. He wracked the man so badly
that he bled out of every single pore in his skin, and this almost
killed him right then and there.
And the Devil came upon him and told him My Servant, I know
what your problem is. You still have compassion within you.
And he said No master, you are mistaken. I have no compassion
left within me. But the Devil laughed and said that the man was
lying, and this proved it.
So the Devil said Have no fear, for I will see you rid of
this affliction. We will go and we will remove it, for once and
for all.
But how will we do this, master? Asked the man. And the Devil
smiled and said You will see.
The Devil commanded that he go home, for the first time in
years. When he did, he saw that it had not changed at all, except
that there was a new man in his momma's house.
The Devil bid that he wait until the new man left before going
inside, and he did. And before long, the new man left, yelling
as he did so and threatening to beat his momma if she didn't
have dinner ready for him when he came home. And he drove away
in his car, leaving him alone with his momma and the Devil, who
then told him to go inside the house, and go to her, where she
sat in the kitchen, nursing a new black eye.
She was not happy to see him, and he was not happy to see
her. But the Devil commanded that he throw himself upon her mercy,
and beg forgiveness for being such a wayward and cruel son. He
commanded that he tell her that he had turned over a new page
in his book, and that he would be reforming himself, and asked
only that she forgive him and give him her love and blessings
before he left.
Did she do these things? No she did not. She called him a
number of very profane and angry things, and told him that he
was just like his father. He was a good for nothing, wasted man
and he would one day bring her great shame and anger. And then
she told him to get out and never come back.
And do you know what happened? As he stood there, and listened
to his mother treat him so, he realized something that the Devil
had been trying to tell him all along. And that was that, if
a mother could say such things to her repentant, wayward son,
then anyone could say anything to anyone. And if a mother could
send her repentant, wayward son away, and show him no mercy and
no love, then anyone was capable of anything. Surely mankind
was a sick and terrible creation to treat one another so!
(Of course, this is exactly true, but it is merely sign of
how far we have fallen from God's love, thanks to the Devil himself.)
And how the Devil must have laughed as, at that very moment,
every angry memory my friend had ever felt came back to him tenfold.
His eyes went red with rage, and he struck her with her own,
cut-glass ashtray.
Then he kicked her to the floor and left her there, bleeding
and spitting up blood and unable to move for the pain.
Once that was done, he went out back to scream at himself
for being such a fool. But what could he do? He still felt this
pain. How could he get rid of it, and be the man that his Lord
and Master demanded that he be?
Well, the Devil had an answer to that. He said that he had
to cut it out of his life, and a doctor cuts away rotten, dead
skin. And he asked the Devil but how can I do that with my own
memories? How can I do that with my own feelings?
And the Devil had an answer to that, too. He said Do you remember
the axe your father used to use to chop wood? You go and find
it, and then you'll know what to do.
So he looked around, out back, and before long he found it
in the toolshed. It was old and rusty, and hadn't been used in
a long time. But it felt right in his hands, and as he hefted
it and swung it, testing its weight, he felt the Devil slip into
his skin, and heard him whispering ideas on his to use this axe
to cut out the rotten, dead parts he didn't need anymore.
He came back into the house, and straddled his momma between
his feet. He raised the axe, and brought it down upon her wrist,
which cleaved right off as though the rusted axe was as clean
and as sharp as the day it were made. And when he did, and she
screamed and she bled all over the rug, and all over him, he
felt a small piece of his past disappear forever.
He brought it down once more, and took her other arm off at
the shoulder, cutting away the memory of how she'd hit him for
interrupting her talk on the phone with grandma. He brought it
down again, and took her maimed arm off at the shoulder, cutting
away the memory of how she'd smacked him for asking if she thought
Lucybell Majors was pretty. He brought it down yet again, and
split her chest wide open, cutting away the memory of how she'd
beaten his behind for coming in without knocking when her and
one of her new men were spooning on the bed.
With each new cut, and each new slice, a piece of his past
went away forever. It was there, of course, because he can still
remember each moment. But the feelings of having no power, or
being scared, or feeling that this was wrong all went away with
each new swing of the axe.
So he hacked and he chopped, and he sliced and he split, and
he cleaved and he cleft. And he didn't stop until every single
memory from his childhood had lost all power over him. It took
him an hour to cut all that away, and when he had finished his
momma was nothing more than pieces of meat, slices of bone and
lengths of gut.
But by that time she was no longer his momma anymore, but
just some stupid woman who'd said rude things to him and made
him feel angry, and this was her recompense. And he says that
when he realized that, he smiled from ear to ear. The Devil had
been right, and he has been such a fool for disobeying. From
that day on, he never would question a single thing his Lord
and Master asked of him.
He left a note for the woman's new man, because the Devil
told him to. It said DINNER'S IN THE KITCHEN, and he put it on
the front door. And then he took his father's axe, got into his
car, and drove away.
The Devil told my friend to kill many, many people after that
day, with that axe, but he says that that's the only one he really
remembers. All the others were just a blur of faces, places and
reasons, so much so that even after leading the police to as
many unmarked graves as he can remember, he's almost certain
that there's at least three times that number remaining to be
found. All of them dead by his hand, as the Devil commanded and
he obeyed.
And he's deathly afraid that the man the Devil bid him give
the axe to, just before abandoning him to face the Texas Rangers
all by himself outside of Lubbock, is still out there killing.
And he is sure of it, because some of the groups who foolishly
oppose the death penalty are claiming that he was mistakenly
convicted and forced into a conviction. And they feel this way
because other killings with his exact M.O. are still going on
in this state.
But my friend is like me in that he knows that salvation was
only a moment away. And though the Devil may have worn us like
a suit of skin, and seen with our eyes and spoken through our
mouths and killed with our hands, we are ultimately responsible,
for we were the fools who let him in.
My friend has taken no appeals. He expects he will be called
to glory sometime in the next three months, though no one has
said anything for certain. He would like to apologize to the
families and friends of all those he killed, and would also like
to apologize to his mother, wherever she may be, and hope that
when she next sees her wayward, now truly-repentant son, she
will accept his pleas for forgiveness at long last.
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