*After a fierce campaign that almost saved his life, Emmanuel Littlejohn was executed on September 26, 2024. As his spiritual advisor, I was the only eyewitness to the entirety of the execution. I recently sat down to gather my recollections and thoughts about that morning.
The Only Eyewitness to The Execution of Emmanuel Littlejohn
Mornings come the quickest when hope is fading fastest. Throughout the night, I’d thought about the final appeal. The only person who could save the life of Emmanuel Littlejohn was Oklahoma Governor Kevin Stitt. I had to get to him. Bright lights pulled against my humanity. People don’t understand that cameras don’t add weight, they thin the soul. Then again, those who think about such foolishness don’t often go on camera. I didn’t have a choice. Who else would stand against the creeping injustice of it all? There was no turning around. It was time to stand and deliver.
The lights were so bright. It was almost as if I was undergoing an x-ray examination of my soul. When I opened my mouth, I spoke beyond the lights:
“Governor Stitt, we are sitting here in McAlester, Oklahoma waiting on you. Emmanuel Littlejohn has asked for grace…he has asked for mercy. We are begging you to show that grace…to show that mercy…this morning. We know that you just got a stint put in your heart…we are trusting that your heart is good. We are trusting in that good heart to save Emmanuel Littlejohn.”
I don’t know how many people heard me. Of course, you always wonder if the right people hear you at all. I didn’t have time to wonder. I had a path that was chosen for me.
Closer. I could literally feel it in the pit of my stomach. The churning was almost more than I could handle. Before I left the area, I prayed for some sort of divine intervention. “Do something God!”
By the time I made it to the staging area, I’d already been up for hours. I was so tired. Running on fumes, I showed my identification to the woman at the door. Strangely, she was super friendly…borderline joyful. “You do know that there is an execution today, right?” The question immediately changed her mood. I was glad. I didn’t want Littlejohn’s family walking through the door to such foolishness. This was a serious moment that deserved to be treated with the seriousness. The interaction reminded me that I was not in a space where anybody really cared about Littlejohn. I was the resistance.
When I got to the conference room, I exchanged pleasantries with the gathered officials. We all talked. Though, I’m not sure anything was actually said. There was a ghost in that room. The cruel delay. What was Governor Kevin Stitt waiting on? Was he trying to inflict as much pain as possible? I kept reciting prayers to myself. Then, I made the first of what would ultimately be many trips to the bathroom. I was growing sicker by the minute. It was the only place that I could briefly be alone. I don’t know how I had anything else in my stomach. Between bouts of blowing my guts into the toilet, I prayed. “God, save my friend.” “Be real to Emmanuel right now.” “Be near.” “Do not let us walk alone.” I was tossing up whatever prayers came to mind. Repeatedly, I splashed cold water on my face. I just couldn’t wake up.
Not long after I sat back down to the table, Emmanuel’s mother and daughter joined me. Though the circumstances were horrific and I’d rather none of us had to be there at all, I was relieved to see them. Indeed, their presence made everything seem a little more human. We all chatted nervously and waited. The cruelty perpetuated by Governor Stitt’s indecision lingered just beneath the surface of it all. Eventually, the officials came and took us to go to the cars that would transport us to the prison. I rode in a vehicle designated for clergy and everyone else rode in a van designated for witnesses. We all assumed that a decision had already been made. We were wrong. None of the vehicles moved. We were still waiting on the Governor. I tried to pray. The only thing I could produce was anger. Maybe that was the best prayer that I had? When the cars started to move, nothing had to be said. The end was now defined.
Once we got to the prison, I did everything by memory. Remove the robe. Walk through the metal detector. Spin around. Spread your arms and legs. Hand identification to officer. Answer questions. Nod cordially. Before I knew it, I was being led down a long colorless cement hall. I knew where I was going. I’d been here before. It didn’t make it any easier. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run. However, I’d come too far and loved Emmanuel too much to look back. Eventually, I arrived at the port that led to the steps that led to the execution chamber. Then, everything stopped. For what seemed like an eternity, I waited for some sort of sign. I passed the time by ripping up whatever I could get my hands on. Bible cover. Napkin. Piece of paper. I guess you could call it a nervous habit. If I touched it, I ripped it.
One of the executioners pulled back the curtain at the top of the stairs. I knew that this meant that Governor Stitt had failed Emmanuel Littlejohn. The door in front of me opened. I was motioned up the stairs. Each step seemed to pull me back. The resistance was strong. Every fiber of my body didn’t want to go up those stairs. I guess I thought if I could at least slow down each step then I could slow down the inevitable.
When I got to the top, I was met by the same man who had met me on three previous occasions. Dressed in a full mask, the man was to be my minder once more. The first time he took me through the rules, I was frightened. The fourth time, I just let him be the hard ass that he thought he had to pretend to be. When the door opened, Oklahoma Department of Corrections Chief of Operations Jason Sparks was standing there. As Oklahoma’s chief executioner, Mr. Sparks oversaw the room. After giving me some instructions that he’d shared with me on previous occasions, he stepped aside and let me in. I’d been thinking of what I’d say when I saw Emmanuel. I didn’t have to say anything. Emmanuel blurted out, “Aw shit. I thought we was going to stop this thing.” My eyes welling up with tears, I replied, “I did too. I’m so sorry brother.” Time stopped for a second. Regret killed all hope. Then, Emmanuel motioned for me to come closer. I walked up and grabbed hold of his hand. The tattoos on his forearm stood out as much as they ever had. “You can hold my hand Jeff…but don’t start all that caressing and rubbing shit.” Despite the circumstances, I knew Emmanuel was still very present.
Though I tried to forget about the minder, he was ever present. Chief Sparks had to ask him to back up at one point. It wasn’t necessary for him to be close enough to smell his breath. The room was flooded with fluorescent light. Truthfully, they do a really good job of making the space seem as medical as possible. Tubes, monitors and white sheets litter the place. Since I’d been in the space before, there wasn’t much that was surprising. Then again, the ease with which the executioners function is very strange. I didn’t have time to concentrate on it. I had a job to do.
Quickly, I asked Emmanuel if they’d had any trouble with the line. It’s important to secure all details like that for the future. Unfortunately, I knew that Emmanuel wasn’t going to be the last person executed. In typical fashion, Emmanuel replied, “There were no problems at all. They’re doing a very successful job of killing me.”
When I reached under my robe to get the oil, I realized that it had spilled all over my pants. It looked like I’d peed all over myself. The container was so slick that I could barely grasp it. When I raised it to the gurney, Emmanuel started laughing. I couldn’t figure out why. Then, he blurted out, “Jeff, you done brought some weed?” Looking down, I realized that the container looked like a dime bag. Though I was laughing on the outside, I was struggling on the inside. Each breathe was more painful than the last. I just wanted to stop the world.
I started to read from the 23rd Psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd…”. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…I will fear no evil…”. When I hit the words, I opened the oil. “…you anoint my head with oil…” With multiple oily movements, I made the sign of the cross on his forehead three times. Emmanuel closed his eyes. “I can feel it.” His words showed that something was happening…and he started to relax. When I asked him if he wanted me to keep reading, he said, “Jeff, what in the hell do you think you’re here for?” I proceeded into the scriptures we’d talked about.
We turned a corner. I started to read.
John 8:1-11. The story of Jesus and the adulterous woman echoed loudly. For many weeks, we’d studied the passage. Emmanuel knew that this was the scripture that most directly spoke to where he was at. When I got to the words, he closed his eyes and said them with me, “Let the one who is without sin caste the first stone.” Before he let me continue, he looked up at his executioners and said, “whether you believe it or not…this shit applies to y’all too.” The silence in the room spoke volumes.
John 14. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God…”. Emmanuel kept interrupting the reading with affirmations. “I do. I do. I do.” When I got to his favorite part, he read softly with me, “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth and the life.’” Emmanuel couldn’t resist, “I receive it!”
John 18, 19 and 20. The arrest. The betrayal. The trial. Emmanuel wanted to stop for a second here and said, “Governor Stitt is Pilate…just washed his damn hands of it all.” The pain. The Crucifixion. The Resurrection. I stopped to tell Emmanuel that I believed in the resurrection of Emmanuel Littlejohn. “This is your release date,” I added. With a huge smile on his face, Emmanuel wasn’t going to let it slide, “What if I told you I like it here Jeff?” I didn’t know what to say. “Just keep reading the damn passages Jeff.”
Revelation 21. “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” Ever muscle in his face started to relax. “Death will be no more.” Emmanuel could feel it. For a second, I realized that everything else in the room had melted away. It was just me and him. Time was getting short.
1 Corinthians 13. “Love never ends.” I squeezed his hand and said, “Brother, you’ve been a good son, you’ve been a good brother, you’ve been a good uncle, you’ve been a father…they all love you so much. That love isn’t going anywhere. Love never ends.” “And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” Chief Sparks motioned for me to return back to the wall. I squeezed his hand one last time. I didn’t want to leave him. But I knew I had to. I had to give him to God. “I love you brother, very much.” Emmanuel didn’t hesitate, “I love you too.”
The curtain opened.
It’s so strange. Row after row of people gathered to take in the spectacle of it all. What is it that they wish to see? I guess it’s important that they’re there. Perhaps the eyes of the gathered is the only thing keeping the executioners from just slicing the condemned’s head off? I don’t know. I just know that it is shocking to see row after row of people hungry for blood. When I turned my head, I saw Emmanuel’s mom and daughter. For an instant, I watched them hold each other. Then, I turned back to Attorney General Gentner Drummond and questioned how he could live with himself with my squinted eyes. The discomfort in his face made it clear that he understood me.
Chief Sparks grabbed the microphone and read the death warrant. It was time for the execution to begin. I kept my eyes on Emmanuel. I refused to run. I wanted him to know that I was there no matter what. Chief Sparks asked Emmanuel if he had a final statement. It was as if the heavens were slowly opening above his head. I knew he wasn’t long for this world. “Yes, I do.” Emmanuel looked to his mother and said, “Mom, you ok?” “I’m ok,” his mother replied. Emmanuel managed to reply, “Everything is going to be ok. I love you.” After the microphone cut off, I leaned in and told Emmanuel one last time, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop this.” I will remember his words forever. “Jeff, if it hadn’t been for you we would have never made it this far.” His eyes rolled back, and he drifted out of consciousness. Loud snores filled the room. Emmanuel was leaving in a hurry. It was as if I could see his soul leaving his body. It was lingering above the table. The light was falling from the heavens. He was pulling away. I could feel the rips.
“Faith, hope and love…but the greatest of these is love”. I raised my hand and said it dozens…if not hundreds…of times. I wanted for the last thing that Emmanuel heard to be that he was loved. I know that everyone in the room got tired of hearing it. I didn’t care. If they were participating in an execution, I figured they needed to hear it as much as anyone. Each time I finished saying the phrase, I made the sign of the cross. Emmanuel saw me. Emmanuel heard me. Love always finds a way through.
Emmanuel just laid motionless on the gurney. Head laid back. Mouth opened. Rotten teeth exposed. Before long, the doctor came in and declared a time of death. I already he was gone. I’d seen him leave. He was in God’s hands now.
I was ready to get out of there. The door swung open. Oklahoma Department of Corrections Director Steven Harpe came out to speak to the gathered. The show was over. I have never understood why there was any need for any further comment. The dead body says it all. Each time, I try to be courteous. I shook Director Harpe’s hand. Emmanuel would have kicked my ass. I can just hear him, “Why would you shake that motha fuckers’ hand? He just killed me Jeff.” Thankfully, Emmanuel was too distracted with the eternal reward of love to pay attention.
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