INTRODUCTION

The men and women on Death Row sit quietly, reflecting on the years and the pitiless chain of days and nights, the iron struggle, the ruthless discipline and institutionalised regime which culminates in a final walk along the ‘Green Mile’.

On the road of life, for some individuals, there’s a place called ‘Murder Crossroads’. This is where two lives meet: one comes to a terrifying end, and the other takes a permanent detour, to end up at a place called ‘Death Row’. And the statistics are chilling. At any one time, there are over 3,700 men and women awaiting execution in super-max facilities across America and, on average, they will have killed three times their number.

When you pick up a book called Monsters of Death Row, you could be forgiven if you were expecting that the people who make up the subject matter possess some visibly evil characteristic that sets them apart from the rest of the human race. To some extent, this is true, but the characteristic is not visible. It is not a physical stigma that these people wear, like the mark of Cain. No, the characteristic is lodged deep within the dark souls of such people. These are social misfits who have killed in a way by which they have demonstrated a quality of evil which transcends human comprehension, and the inhabitants of Death Row have all obtained their residential qualifications through an act of terrifyingly brutal aggravated murder.

Murder, the wilful snuffing-out of a human life, is the most serious of crimes, and those who commit murder are the most abominable of people. The act of murder is irrevocable. It leaves in its wake a legacy of horror, devastation and misery for those bereaved families and loved ones who have been touched by its chill hand.

As with most criminals, however, there are greater and lesser degrees of evil attached to killers. Just as it would be wrong to address a petty shoplifter with the same degree of condemnation as a violent mugger, it can be said that some murderers are considerably more evil than others of their killer breed. It is this indifference to the value of human life and the high level of certainty that they would kill again, with no qualms, were they to be set free, that sets the real monsters apart from those who have killed only once, and whose crime was committed in the heat of the moment.

To qualify for a cell on ‘the Row’, the crime committed has to be one of ‘aggravated first-degree murder’, and the law in the USA requires that the aggravating circumstances have to be proved. It may be rape or burglary, or simply trying to avoid being given a speeding ticket by a cop. The murder of a police, fire or correctional officer qualifies for aggravated first-degree murder, as does, in certain circumstances, causing a victim to suffer agonising physical pain and tortuous mental anguish before death. In other words, the murder has to have been committed in tandem with another criminal offence.

For example, 33-year-old James Leroy Brett currently sits on Death Row at the Washington State Penitentiary at Walla Walla, and Christopher Berry-Dee has interviewed him. Brett explained that he was convicted of the shooting to death of Kenneth Milosevich. The aggravating circumstances were that the murder was committed: (1) to conceal his identity; (2) in the furtherance of robbery in the first degree; and (3) in the course of, in furtherance of, or in immediate flight from burglary in the first degree and kidnapping in the first degree. Brett was convicted on 11 June 1992, and he was sentenced to death seven days later.

But what is Death Row like? Christopher has visited many death rows, but the one that stands out in his mind is at the Somers Correctional Institute, Connecticut, where he interviewed the serial killer Michael Ross.

Ross, like all Death Row residents, remains in his cell 21 hours a day, in what is called ‘lockdown’, even for meals, when food trays and a drink are pushed through a slot in the bars. He will shower once a week.

After a long walk through the main prison, and the climbing of many stairs, I finally arrived at a brown-painted, steel door. In white was stencilled ‘Death Row’. It was opened and I was immediately struck by the sweet smell of cheap disinfectant, the stale odour of human sweat, urine and fried food. The smell permeated every brick and the tier was deathly quiet. Of the seven inhabitants, five had been allowed recreation because of my visit. Cobb and Ross were in their cells. Cobb was quiet, and I gave him due respect, ever mindful that he was just a few steps away from the chair and that he might sit in it any day. It was a dreadful place, devoid of sunlight and fresh air. It was worse than the row depicted in The Silence of the Lambs. And, when I entered the cell of Ross, everything started to matter.

Michael Ross is a monster, and the monsters on Death Row are not normal human beings. They have carried out serial murder, mass murder, spree killing, necrophilia, dismemberment of bodies, both dead and alive. They have bludgeoned their victims; they have buried them while they still clung on to life. They have suffocated them, strangled them and choked them, forcing debris down their throats, sadistically watching their victim’s faces contort into grotesque masks of death.

Many of the killers described in these pages are fiends who have stabbed, hacked and even filleted their victims, some of whom were only a few months old. They have even set fire to their prey. There are drive-by killers, cop-killers, child-killers, sexual psychopaths, sadists, cannibals and those who have slaughtered loved ones, family and friends.

These monsters have trawled the highways and byways, they have met their victims at ‘Murder Crossroads’, and they have ended up on Death Row.

Once a prisoner is on ‘the Row’, there are only three ways out: commutation of sentence, death by natural causes and execution. The first of these, commutation of sentence, is dependent upon a successful appeal. As a safeguard against any possible miscarriage of justice, the USA has put in place an appeal process – which may stretch over a decade – and, monster or not, every killer is given a chance to argue the fairness of their trial and conviction. In the majority of appeal cases the best that the convicted killer can hope for is to be allowed to exchange a death sentence for one of life and a different colour uniform.

‘The Row’ is the ultimate leveller. There is no colour or class distinction but, as one inmate put it, very pragmatically, ‘There are no rich men on Death Row.’ Not as noisy as the Special Segregation Units, which house the continually disruptive, mentally unstable and most violent inmates, who shower visitors with foul language, excrement and urine, Death Row can be as quiet as a tomb. In this dread place, the men, and women, sit quietly, reflecting on the years and the pitiless chain of days and nights, the iron struggle, the ruthless discipline and institutionalised regime which culminates in a final walk along the ‘Green Mile’.

A note on the text: wherever possible, complete details of inmates’ numbers and dates of birth are given. However, in some cases this information has not been available to the authors. Dates given are in UK format.

The opinions and beliefs expressed in this volume do not necessarily reflect those of the editors or publishers.

Christopher Berry-Dee and Tony Brown

The Criminology Research Institute, England 2002