Executions Resume After Hiatus

The criminals went to the place of execution in the following order, Morgan, Webb, and Wolf, in the first cart; Moore in a mourning coach; Wareham and Burk in the second cart; Tilley, Green, and Howell in the third; Lloyd on a sledge; on their arrival at Tyburn they were all put into one cart. They all behaved with seriousness and decency. Mary Green professed her innocence to the last moment of the fact for which she died, cleared Ann Basket, and accused the woman who lodged in the room where the fact was committed. As Judith Tilley appeared under terrible agonies, Mary Green applied herself to her, and said, do not be concerned at this death because it is shameful, for I hope God will have mercy upon our souls; Catharine Howell likewise appeared much dejected, trembled and was under very fearful apprehensions; all the rest seemed to observe an equal conduct, except Moore, who, when near dying, shed a flood of tears. In this manner they took their leave of this transitory life, and are gone to be disposed of as shall seem best pleasing to that all-wise Being who first gave them existence.

The Last Execution Before the Lull:

Date of Execution: September 25, 2007

Offender: Richard, Michael

Last Statement: Yes, I would like for my family to take care of each other. I love you Angel, Let's ride. I guess this is it.

Cost-Benefit Analysis: False Positive/True Positive. False Negative. The True Negative is the only exculsion in our typical analysis of such cases.

Date of Execution: August 3, 2006

Offender: Wyatt Jr., William E.

Last Statement: Yes, I do. I would like to say to my two brother-in-laws and the rest of my family that I would like to thank you for supporting me through all of this. I went home to be with my Father and I went home as a trooper. I would like to say to Damien's family I did not murder your son. I did not do it. I just want you to know that -- I did not murder Damien and would ask for all of your forgiveness and I will see all of you soon. I love you guys. I love you guys. That's it.

Ordinary Account

THE Ordinary of NEWGATE his ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confessions, and Last Dying Words of the Malefactors that were Executed at Tyburn, on Fryday the 28th of July, 1721.

AT the Sessions begun July 12, at Justice Hall in the Old-Bayly, were convicted of Capital Crimes, seven Men and five Women; 6 whereof obtaining His Majesty's Reprieve, the others were order'd for Execution. July 28, viz. J. Winshipp; R. Hunter; G. Post; W. Goslin; M. Clark, and M. Inman.

The Sunday preceeding their Execution, I preach'd to Them, and to Others present, from the following Words...

To such Actions as these, what can we say? Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the Streets of Ascalon! lest the Heathens rejoyce; lest the barbarous Nations Triumph! Besides which we mention'd the Murther of a Friend and Acquaintance; the sending an Innocent Person unprepar'd into the other World; to appear before God with all her Sins about her; and without that space which the Law allows a Condemn'd Malefactor. Against such Deeds as these, we need not have recourse to Religion; as Nature itself will loudly here exclaim, O Earth, hide not my Blood.

Application, to the Persons to dye. As, to turn their former hatred of God into the more intense Love: By true Repentance, by acknowledging their Offences, and by bearing patiently the Dispensations of Providence. Also, to convert their late hatred of Mankind, Preying, Spoiling, Robbing, into Meekness, Charity, Humility: And to endeavour to love even those who had legally accus'd them, and brought them to ignominious Deaths.

The Account of the Malefactors before their Deaths.

AS the Prisoners condemn'd were carried up to the Chappel twice each Day (where, after the Prayers, I endeavour'd, as I had time, to instruct them by explaining the Word of God) I had an easy Opportunity of Regarding their several Behaviours, which was in the general with Decency and Devotion; nor did they ever absent themselves from the publick Duties; except that George Post, and Mary Inman were for some short time Sick, and rendered incapable of attending the Publick Service in the Chapel.

1. MATTHEW CLARK) was condemn'd for the Murther of Sarah Goldington on the 27th of May last, at a Place call'd Wilsden-Green.

He was about 24 Years of Age, Born at St. Albans, near to which Place he was bred up, and serv'd a Gentleman , in whose Family he might have learn'd a much better Disposition and Temper of Mind, had not his Nature been corruptly bent from the Cradle, and the Dispositions of his Soul forceably leaning to Vice. He said, he was taught very well to Read; but what tended still to the depraving his Mind, was the neglect of Reading, or Hearing the Scripture; but sitting in the Church-Yard with other idle Fellows, during the Time of Divine-Service.

But he added, that he preceiv'd his Mind and Inclinations more sensibly inclined to Wickedness, for a Year or two last past; which he now imputed to God's Spirit having left him to himself. For he could not be contented with his old Way of Life, viz. Going to Plough, and driving Carts; but us'd to skulk about Bushy-Heath (near Watford) intending oftentimes to set upon some Passengers there; that he rob'd on that Heath a Person, of about 45 s. using him cruelly at the same time.

What Money he got by ill Means he own'd never did him any Service; but as he was liked well enough, he said, by most of the young Women about, he consumed much Money in trifling Ways upon them. And being acquainted with her he was afterwards about to wed, while he liv'd at Watford, he used to go frequently to that Town and be Merry; till by his perswasions he had induced the young Woman to consent to Marriage; and bringing her up to London, they went to a Goldsmith's to purchase a Ring; but he not having Money enough to pay for it, left her, and pretended he had a Legacy in the Country bequeath'd him of 15 l. which he would receive, and which would at once defray all Expences. Leaving London, he went toward Neesden, and Wilsden-


Green, where he had sometime liv'd, he said, he lay about for 2 or 3 Days, intending to rob till he had acquired 15 l. But being alone, tho' he oft made a Resolution to attack the next Person that pass'd, his Heart fail'd, and he durst not attempt it. That he here met the Master of the Ale-House where he did the Murder, who asking him how he came to loiter there in Hay time, offer'd him Work, and hired him for a Servant . But he upon this considering 'twas Hay time, and all Folks from Home, and in particular the Master of the said Ale-House, went thither, and calling for Liquor, fate an Hour, renewing the former Friendship that had been between him and the Maid, and talking over the many Meriments and Frolicks; he having before pretended a Love and Kindness for her. After this, he said, when he was now assured that no one was in the House but they two alone, the Devil put it into his Mind, that he could not possibly rob the House, unless the said Servant-Maid was dispatch'd. Upon which he added, that he privately got a Knife under his Coat, and getting up to kiss her, design'd to cut her Throat; but his Heart misgiving him, he sat down again. A while after he went and kiss'd her again; and then, he said (for which God pardon his Soul) he snatch'd the Knife from his Coat, and cut her Wind-pipe, and went away; but the Knife being very dull she made a noise in the Throat as if she call'd to him, and scrabbled to the Door; he seeing she was not dead return'd, and most barbarously cut her Neck round to the Bone, and then rob'd the House of a little Silver, but was too surpriz'd and shock'd to carry off much, (at mentioning this, this most horrid Mind, and most abandon'd Creature, very severely cry'd, and ask'd, if for him there could be any Mercy from God!)

When I enquired farther of the particulars of his Story, he said, that was the whole, and the true Matter of Fact. As for what follow'd afterwards, he told me, he went for London again with the little Money he had got; but being to pass by Tyburn, a sort of Horror and Trembling seiz'd him, nor could he possibly go by it. Returning back he met a Waggon, and the better to prevent Suspicion, undertook to drive it to London. Soon after the Pursuers came up to him, and ask'd him, if any one had pass'd his Waggon who might be suspected of Murther; whereupon he shewing some Confusion, they examin'd him farther, and perceiv'd the Slieve of his Shirt to be Bloody; but he affirm'd that he had met a Soldier, who abusing him, he had fought with him. But the consciousness of his Guilt pressing hard upon him, he soon confest the Truth.

He show'd a Concern, (tho' without Cause) that his Father, an honest and industrious Man, going once to see him in Newgate, said, had he been to die for any other Sin, he would have aim'd at saving his Life; but nothing but Blood could attone for Blood.

On the Tuesday before his Death, when I urg'd him to prepare for his latter End; he said, he could scarcely be well compos'd, the hanging in Chains was so apt to intrude upon his Thoughts, but that he well deserv'd it he own'd; adding, that he had often remember'd what he us'd to read in the Scripture, viz. That the Bodies of the Wicked should be expos'd to the Beasts of the Field, and to the Fowls of the Air for Meat.

Before he dy'd I ask'd him, if he had not had very terrifying and frightful Thoughts, in the Night time especially? He answer'd, that it was not easy to express the Horror of his Soul; that he had frightful Dreams, and dreadful Apprehensions: And how he should meet the murthered Creature at the Last Day, if he had destroy'd her Soul as well as her Body, God only knew! After I had advised him in these Matters, I directed him to prepare for the Reception of the Holy Sacrament, &c.

2. JOHN WINSHIPP [...]

pop quiz

Q: Why might you need an Indian translator if you're going to Iraq?


A: New York Times

A: Washington Post

A: Democracy Now

Orientalism

It's That Time of the Month

You know. Testing. Papers due. My final semester at uhhhh university. How very pleasing! I would like to thank Eudora Weldon, Westervelt, Hogue, Mazzella, Hoagland, Flynn, Dumanis, and the late Daniel Stern for all their input and expertise. I would like to thank the university for my degree in unemployment and all the typing that will occur as a result of this finality. I've been waiting to write harlequin, sci-fi and historical fiction 4-ever! As soon as next week rolls around, we'll be back to it, I hope. The dialogue in here is charged at times, but I hope we can all bring in a method which brings all of us to percieve things slightly differently. But most of all, I'd like to thank Koschka. He's the reincarnation of Krishna and that's why I punish him so often. He's not even blue yet, even though I've been waiting. Ok Ok.

Purging Innocence

Anne Marie plays horologist. The black hour hand creases her finger as she pushes it counter-clockwise. “Anne Marie. Stop that, you’ll break it,” Mrs. Dumont says, closing the grandfather clock door. The mother turns on the television and throws the remote on to the couch. The cotton cushions and gray upholstery sit frayed and uneven. Anne crawls up on the couch and picks at threads. She tugs the dirt smeared face of her favorite doll from between cushions and cradles it wrong-side-up in the crook of her arms.

She hears her mother breathing over her, and then a cool absence behind her. Anne Marie turns to catch a glimpse of her mother’s back disappear into the kitchen. “God Damnit,” she hears her mother say, just as a box of cereal hits the floor with a thrown force. Little balls of grains treble against the floor and then nothing. Anne Marie turns the doll right side up and stares into the television.

A lighthouse scans jagged waves in front of a stucco prison. Earlier in the day, a small craft advisory was issued. Prison officials call off the execution. Ethical constraints. The doctors discovered problems in the procedure. They’d have to resuscitate him if he felt any pain. Clearly unethical with so much barbiturate in Fernando Montoya’s veins. Anne turns down the volume and can’t find the channel switch.

The phone rings. Mrs. Dumont ashes her cigarette before lifting the receiver. The burning cherry falls off and burns with old butts. Mrs. Dumont takes an empty drag and picks up the lighter. She picks up and then hangs up the phone. The teakettle whistles. A diesel engine passes on the small street and Mrs. Dumont lifts to the balls of her feet to make sure Anne Marie is still there.

Beside the checklist sits her pack of smokes and a pencil. She checks off “bedroom”. Staring at the list, she pulls out another cigarette and lights it. “Opossum,” the list says. The smell of wet dog and urine sits in the kitchen. At first she thought it to be the dog. She brought the terrier to the other side of the bayou, where she saw other strays come out at times. He had always liked the woods. Leaving him there was the right thing to do. Annie Marie stopped asking about him after two weeks.

But the smell stayed after the dog was gone. Rats? No, it couldn’t be rats. Then there were holes in the cereal boxes. Big ones. Sometimes whole boxes disappeared and she found them later in the garage. Then she saw it. The opossum’s size frightened her. It hissed like a cat. For six months now Mrs. Dumont hadn’t been in the garage. Something stinks like death in it.

The living room is dressed in last week’s clothes and littered with to-go boxes and coke cans. She sits at the table next to the phone. She looks at the back of the couch and the crest of her daughter’s head. Mrs. Dumont thinks a moment about placing her hand around the ponytail stem. Annie Marie’s head felt like a dangling beet from the stalk of her hair. Mrs. Dumont’s cheeks make pits when she takes a drag.

Anne Marie stands on the couch and turns to her mother.
“Anne Marie, how many times have I told you not to stand on the couch? You’ll ruin it,” Mrs. Dumont says with her cigarette pointed at her.
Unabashed, Annie Marie asks “What does resuscitate mean?”
“It’s what you can’t do to your doll. Look at her face. Dirt collects in the plastic scratches. You can’t fix that. You know I paid good money for that doll?”
Annie Marie let loose the doll, which dangled from her arm by its feet, then falls over the ledge of the couch and hits the floor. She turns back to the television with both palms on the remote pressing buttons. The channel and volume didn’t change.
“I’m throwing that doll away.”

“25 years?! That’s a long time,” Tiny said beneath the tin port at the transit center.
“A lot can happen in twenty-five years,” Daryl agreed. He looked around the bend for their bus.
“You can’t hardly speculate about the Federal Pen,” Tiny added.
“What about Rusty? Where he at nowadays?” Daryl now asked the questions.
“In and out. In and out. He’s just a drunk now. Not up to no good, though. Clean as a whistle, even if it smell like gin.”

They both laughed in their tuxedos. A little boy ran up to them smiling.

First, the boy stopped and looked at Tiny, furrowing his little brows. Only a moment after the boy saw Daryl’s smaller and petite frame, the boy smiled and ran back to the fiberglass casing.
“How your daughters?” Tiny asked.
“Good, I guess. You know how they are,” Daryl responded. Tiny nodded his head while staring at the pavement, his hands tucked in his tuxedo pants.

If all the world was made of paper.

Mary Ruefle read at the museum of printing history last night. Other than the incredible printing process to witness there, Ruelfe (pronounced Rue full, without the connotation) denoted a speaking style and reading of straightforwardness, simultaneously aware of the process, audience, and the interplay of text. The almost seamless result allowed for the world to be for a moment, be made of paper. The discursive sway of the poems at times encouraged laughter, encouraged then prohibited laughter at others. Making direct and prolonged eye contact with the audience, she spoke with the guile of a performer, entering the back corner of the room prior to the reading, adjusting then approving the track lighting around the room.

Talking to Strangers

Do you see sun spots? A strong, terrible love where
there isn't any? A demoiselle crane talking to a lama
duck? Very interesting, but there's nothing in it.
Some people take electric roses and plant them in a field
to bring the field down to earth.
There's nothing wrong with that. Put down your book.
Look at me when I talk to you. I'm the oxygen mask
that comes dangling down in a plane.
I'm here to help you be garrulous.
I'm not interested in your family--not your mother,
father, brother, sister, son, daughter, lover or
dog. In France, they used to kill themselves if
a dinner party went wrong. That's a great idea.
Are you interested in orphan-types who turn out
to be kings, or kings who come to nothing?
What's the difference between watching and looking?
Doff your garb. I'm sorry, but the loggerhead turtles
off the Carolina coast are leaving for Africa tonight.
Would you like an ice cold pear instead?
Walking into the store is like entering
the delicate refrain of a Christmas poem.
What more could you want? Siddhartha said
someone who brushes against you in the street
has shared an experience with you for five hundred lives.
Can bottles bobbing on the open seabe said to move at all?