The Execution of Willie Francis

Reviewed by Kate Weisburd

By Gilbert King
Basic Civitas, 362 pages,
$26, hardcover

When Willie Francis, a 17-year-old African American from Louisiana, was strapped into a portable electric chair on May 3, 1946, he expected to die. But as electric currents flowed through his body, something unexpected happened: He did not die. Instead, Francis convulsed and writhed in pain. Finally, he gasped and cried out: "I am not dying." Willie Francis survived his own execution. Gilbert King's book, The Execution of Willie Francis, recounts Francis's horrifying story. As courts across the country grapple with how to evaluate execution protocols in light of the Supreme Court's decision in Baze v. Rees (128 S. Ct. 1520 (2008)), the story of Willie Francis lends a human face to the ongoing controversy.

The state's case against Francis, who was charged with killing a local pharmacist, was weak at best: His confession was coerced, the gun used in the crime was never located, and there were no eyewitnesses. Despite this, his court-appointed trial lawyers conducted no investigation, called no witnesses, and presented no evidence. Francis was convicted of capital murder by an all-white jury.

After surviving "Gruesome Gertie," as the electric chair in Louisiana was known, Francis was told that he would be executed again in six days. A young white lawyer, Bernard DeBlanc, agreed to represent Francis in challenging the second execution attempt. King's book chronicles the yearlong legal struggle that ensued, and the unlikely bond that developed between DeBlanc and his death-row client. Francis was the grandson of slaves. His father made about nine dollars a week working as a farmer. DeBlanc, by contrast, was the grandson of the founder of the Knights of the White Camellia, an organization akin to the Ku Klux Klan but known for even more-violent clandestine activities. The relationship between DeBlanc and Francis offers poignant insight into the legacy of slavery and segregation in the South.

Convinced that trying to execute someone twice constituted cruel and unusual punishment, DeBlanc filed appeal after appeal until ultimately the U.S. Supreme Court agreed to review the case. DeBlanc enlisted the help of fellow Louisianan Skelly Wright to present the case before the Court. Wright argued that subjecting Francis to a second execution would deny Francis due process under the double jeopardy clause of the Fifth Amendment, as well as violate the Eighth Amendment prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment. But the Supreme Court disagreed. In affirming the Louisiana Supreme Court's denial of Francis's appeal, the Court stated: "The cruelty against which the Constitution protects a convicted man is cruelty inherent in the method of punishment, not the necessary suffering involved in any method employed to extinguish life humanely. The fact that an unforeseeable accident prevented the prompt consummation of the sentence cannot, it seems to us, add an element of cruelty to a subsequent execution." (State of La. ex rel. Francis v. Resweber, 329 U.S. 459, 464 (1947).)

On May 7, 1947--a year after Francis was first electrocuted--he returned to the electric chair. This time the execution was successful. Years later, DeBlanc told reporters that "if Willie's appeal was today, we'd win." Whether DeBlanc was correct is not entirely clear. Botched executions, unfortunately, are not relics of the past. Lethal injection, the primary method of execution today, raises the same concerns as the electric chair. If not carried out properly, executions can result in "terrifying, excruciating death." (Harbison v. Little, 511 F. Supp. 2d 872 (M.D. Tenn. 2007).) Such outcomes are particularly likely when unqualified executioners, who are not properly trained and are using inadequate equipment, perform the task.

In Francis's case, witnesses to the first execution reported that the two executioners were drunk at the time, and that the chair had malfunctioned during a test earlier in the day. When the electric current passed through Francis's body, witnesses observed that his nose flattened, his lips swelled and turned purple, and his convulsions literally made the chair jump and move several inches. Francis later described the agonizing pain, saying that it felt like "a hundred and thousand needles and pins" were pricking him. Referring to the mask covering his face during the execution, Francis shouted, "Take it off, take it off. Let me breathe." One of the drunken executioners responded, "[Y]ou're not supposed to breathe," and let the electricity continue to surge.

Lethal injection presents similar risks. It consists of the serial administration of three drugs, the first of which--the anesthesia--is necessary to ensure that the inmate does not feel the excruciating effects of the ensuing two drugs. If the prison officials carrying out the execution are not qualified or adequately trained to administer the anesthesia, there is a substantial risk that the inmate will suffer an excruciating death.

In Baze the Supreme Court found that Kentucky's lethal-injection protocol passed constitutional muster, even though Kentucky had conducted only one previous lethal-injection execution. There was little evidence in the record of problems with the administration of the state's procedures. Challenges to other states' execution procedures are ongoing across the country. For example, in June a court in Ohio held that the state's lethal-injection procedures are unconstitutional and ordered the state to abandon the three-drug formula in favor of an anesthetic-only protocol similar to that used in animal euthanasia.

In the course of the book King not only masters the nuances and details of Francis's case, he also creates a compelling and memorable portrait of how poor people and people of color are treated by the criminal justice system. Willie Francis's story should not be forgotten. As litigation and debate over lethal injection continues, lawmakers, lawyers, and judges have much to learn from Francis's experience.

Kate Weisburd is an attorney and the clinic fellow at the UC Berkeley School of Law Death Penalty Clinic. The clinic filed an amicus curiae brief in support of the petitioners in Baze v. Rees, which can be found at lethalinjection.org.

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