Oklahoma's death chamber faces busiest month

TULSA, Okla. (AP) _ Gary Gibson will step next month to that southern Oklahoma prison cell where last hours unravel into last minutes. It's time, he'll announce. <br><br>He'll lead the condemned

Saturday, December 30th 2000, 12:00 am

By: News On 6

TULSA, Okla. (AP) _ Gary Gibson will step next month to that southern Oklahoma prison cell where last hours unravel into last minutes. It's time, he'll announce.

He'll lead the condemned to a small room with a bright surgical glow and a waiting gurney. The inmate will be strapped to it with nylon. ``Have you made your peace with God?'' Gibson is inclined to ask before he says, ``Let the execution begin.''

More than 20 times, he has waited as hidden executioners released a death cocktail into tubes emptying into inmates' arms, bringing desperate breaths and finally, a still heart.

But never has Gibson, the warden of one of the nation's busiest death chambers, faced a month like January, when seven men and one woman are scheduled to die.

``It's a trying situation for everybody,'' he said.

Texas set a record with 40 executions in 2000. Oklahoma, with one-sixth the population, ranked second with 11 and in January will tie Texas' one-month record with eight executions, according to the Washington, D.C.-based Death Penalty Information Center.

Reforms that have shortened the appeals process and the fact that five of the condemned inmates have been on death row for more than 11 years contribute to the surge.

The twice-a-week executions have caused little stir among a public so pro-death penalty even Gov. Frank Keating, a Roman Catholic, once called the pope's stance against it wrong.

``Look at what those eight people did,'' reasoned Aaron Cook, 24, a Tulsa student.

``I think sometimes you have to look at the victims and say, `How else are they going to get justice?''' offered Don Trolinger, a retiree from Miami in northeast Oklahoma.

``I'm a Christian and it really bothers me ... but no, I wouldn't want to do away with it completely,'' said JaDeanna Farris, who owns a dress shop in Alva and favors capital punishment in certain circumstances.

Still, the busy January execution pace combined with a national re-examination of death penalty errors has opponents speaking out. State leaders of Catholic, Episcopal and United Methodist faiths have called for a moratorium on the death penalty.

Some Oklahomans say they aren't sure what side to take.

``I wouldn't want to be the one to decide if a person was to die or not. Too many people have died who may not have committed a crime,'' said Barbara Jenkins, a convenience store manager in McAlester, home to the Oklahoma State Penitentiary where executions are held.

Johnnie Cabrera, chairwoman of the Oklahoma Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty, plans to be in McAlester on Jan. 16 when Floyd Medlock is to be put to death. Judy Busch will be there too.

The women stand on opposite sides in the death penalty debate, but they share one thing: Medlock stabbed and killed their granddaughter, 7-year-old Katherine Ann Busch in 1990.

Busch routinely makes the 120-mile trip from Oklahoma City to McAlester. Her group, the Homicide Survivors Support Group, erects a display of victims' photos outside the prison gates and share their tearful stories.

Cabrera attends clemency hearings on behalf of the condemned and would prefer Medlock live out his life in prison. She plans to witness his execution, hoping to offer him solace from the front row.

``I do not condone what he did,'' Cabrera said. ``But killing this person is not going to bring her back. It's just going to make another family in pain.''

Busch said the two women haven't spoken since she confronted Cabrera during an anti-death penalty rally years ago.

``It really appalls me that she fights for this person's life, that did all the horrible things he did to Kathy,'' Busch said. ``She died a cruel painful death, and he's going to be gently put to sleep.''

Busch said she won't have peace until she knows Medlock no longer breathes.

Jim Fowler has lived both sides of the death penalty debate and speaks against it.

His son, Mark Fowler, is to be the sixth inmate put to death in January. He received the death penalty for his role in the 1985 slayings of three people during an Edmond grocery store robbery.

In 1986, Jim Fowler's mother was murdered. Robert Lee Miller Jr. spent 10 years on death row for that killing, but DNA evidence exonerated him and he was freed. Another man is scheduled for trial.

``We're putting ourselves on the map of being the most backwards, barbaric area in the world,'' Fowler said. ``That's premeditated murder, and we do it with a big grin on our faces.''

More than 3,700 people in the United States are waiting on death row.

Wanda Jean Allen's 11-year stint there is scheduled to end Jan. 11, when she is to become the first woman put to death in Oklahoma since statehood. She murdered her roommate, Gloria Leathers, outside a police station in 1988.

``Please let me live. Please let me live,'' Allen, 41, begged in a whisper during a clemency hearing in December. Clemency was denied.

At the Oklahoma State Penitentiary, Warden Gibson has never known the condemned to fight the final walk.

``You just go out there and say, `It's time.' They usually don't say much, just give you a nod,'' he said.

But leading men to their deaths is never easy, and Gibson plans to watch his employees closely for signs of fatigue from January's hectic pace.

Even for them, a reprieve is elusive.

On Feb. 1, the death chamber is booked.