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WAITING: William Moore relives his time on death row in Execution

THE NUMBER seven is considered to be lucky, and that was certainly the case for William ‘Billy’ Moore, the first guilty man to be released from America’s death row.

Moore, from Rome, Georgia, came within seven hours of losing his life. But, after having spent over 16 years on death row for the murder of Fred Stapleton in 1974, Moore received a last minute reprieve due to an act of human kindness from the family of his victim.

Through desperation, Moore intended to rob Stapleton to fund his drug habit, but events took a tragic turn.

Realising what he had done whilst high on drugs and alcohol, Moore pleaded guilty to his crime.

“In a previous marriage my wife had left my three-year-old son with me and I had to support him. All the money that I had was still going to my ex-wife, and I had no money for myself or my son, and then became addicted to heroin,” Moore said.

“After sobering up and realising that I had killed somebody, it was bothering my conscious and I had to take responsibility. It was not my plan to commit a murder, just a robbery.

“But during that robbery I was intoxicated and out of control. I had to plead guilty.”

Moore claims his death warrant was signed even before he had stepped foot inside the courtroom.

“It really wasn’t a trial. Before it began my sentence had already been typed up and signed by the judge,” he said.

Moore was sentenced to death for his crime and sent to an Atlanta prison. He can still recall the feeling of despair that washed over him the moment his sentence was read out.

“I just wanted to die, I felt that there was nothing left. I just felt hopeless. I was surprised because my lawyer told me that I would get a lighter sentence. It was a total shock,” he said.

Moore tried to prepare himself for death.

“After the sentencing you do become somewhat conditioned to the fact that you are going to die. As far as the state is concerned you’re already dead, they are just waiting to carry your sentence out.”

For the next few years, Moore said he was dehumanised. He wasn’t referred to by his name or even his prison number. Every day, he was reminded that he was going to die inside the bleak prison walls.

“The whole perspective of death row is that you are there to die,” he said.

“Your mail has your name, is marked ‘death row’; the area you live in is called ‘death house’ and the clothes you wear have ‘death row’ on it.

“The guards call you the ‘death row inmate’, so it’s constantly being beaten into you,” he explained.

“You just have to try and survive. What helped me is that while I was in county jail I had been told of Jesus Christ and that changed my perspective on everything I knew. That’s what got me through this,” he said.

However, Moore’s renewed sense of hope was tested when his final appeal was overturned and his execution was set to go ahead in 1984.

“I was put on death watch for three days. During that time my sisters came to visit. I spent a lot of time seeing friends and stuff.

“I was constantly trying to encourage them that whatever happens, it’s going to be OK. I also had to make peace with myself,” he said.

Before he was saved from death, Moore would count down the days to his execution. He would agonisingly wait, listening out for the footsteps of the guards who were ready to take him to the execution chamber.

A memory that stands out in Moore’s mind is the friendliness of some guards on the day he was scheduled to die. A departure from the experience he had with them whilst on death row.

“When you’re on death watch, it was strange and crazy in terms of the treatment you get. The state goes all out in getting you comfortable before they kill you.

“When you have those last few hours waiting to be executed, they give you what you want. I could eat and watch what I wanted – they give you the special treatment,” he said.

Three days before his execution, Moore said, he had been tormented.

“The guards decided that I needed to see what the electric chair looked like. They walked me up to the chair and pulled the sheet off.

“They said ‘Billy you need to see this chair because once you’re strapped down into it, you won’t appreciate how beautiful this chair is,’” he recalled.

“They would begin to read what other inmates did when they were executed, guys that I had known and lived with. They were trying to torture me.”

But, a last minute decision by the appeals court halted Moore’s execution.

“Seven hours before my execution, the court of appeals in Atlanta stopped the execution to hear the appeal again,” he said.

The last minute reprieve was unexpected and Moore recalled the sense of relief he felt.

“It was like I could feel the spirit of death was leaving and I could feel life again,” he said.

Moore spent the next six years trying to overturn his sentence from death row to life imprisonment. He had support from Mother Teresa and Jesse Jackson, who campaigned for him.

But the biggest endorsement he received was from his victim’s family, who Moore had kept in touch with during his time in prison.

“One of the things I needed to do was to write the family and apologise. They wrote me back and told me that they were Christian people and they forgive me,” he said.

The family even spoke out against Moore’s execution at a parole board hearing.

“To have the family speak on your behalf is the greatest feeling you can get. You would think they would want me executed but the love and kindness they have shown was overwhelming” he adds.

The family’s testimony led to his release in 1991.

Since he walked away from prison, Moore has become a Pentecostal minister. He tours the US speaking out against the death penalty and urging young people not to make the mistakes he did.

The subject of a film directed by Steven Scaffidi called Execution, which was released last November, Moore says:

“I’ve spent the last few years talking about my experience. I speak at detention centres, prisons, youth groups and schools. I talk to kids about the power of choice and their ability to stay out of prison by making the right choices,” he explained.

In London to speak at an Amnesty International event this week, Moore has called for a worldwide ban on the death penalty.

“It doesn’t act as a deterrent. It’s a political tool to keep people on edge,” he said.

“It should be banned worldwide. What you’re saying when you give someone the death penalty is that you have given up on that person and the only thing to do is kill them.”

Instead Moore believes that leaders should invest in poverty- stricken areas, where the life of crime seduces so many.

“There has been a million and a half dollars spent trying to execute me. I’m just one person. If that money was spent in poor schools or neighbourhoods trying to make them come up then that’s more valuable in the sense of changing children’s lives,” he said.

Now re-married with three daughters, Moore hopes to continue with his work. But he lives with the guilt of his crime every day.

“I never forget what I did. It stays with me but I will campaign against the death penalty and show young people the importance of making the right choices.

“I have to give back to our young people and help them be the best they can be,” he said.

Billy Moore will be interviewed by Rageh Omaar for Amnesty International on April 25.

For more information visit: www.amnesty.org.uk/events

Published: 21 April 2008
Issue: 1317

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