Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, January 8, 1995 TAG: 9501090059
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: PETER BAKER THE WASHINGTON POST
DATELINE: RICHMOND LENGTH: Long
If Edmonds is put to death Jan. 24, as ordered by a Danville court, he will be the first Virginian executed by lethal injection.
Under a law that took effect with the new year, a condemned inmate in Virginia now has the choice of dying in the electric chair or on a gurney with tubes pumping poison into his arm.
Edmonds, convicted of killing a small-town store owner for the few dollars in the cash register, has opted to forgo electrocution. He will be the only condemned prisoner allowed to do so in the Old Dominion in 87 years.
``Given a choice of not-very-attractive alternatives,'' said his lawyer, Carl Nadler, ``it's the lesser of two evils.''
Since its U.S. debut in 1977, lethal injection has become the method of choice among the 37 states that allow capital punishment. Virginia was slow to join the crowd, its General Assembly rejecting the change for years before granting approval last winter.
Today, 28 states use deadly chemicals in executions, at least as one option. Maryland adopted a similar law at the same time as Virginia and put triple-murderer John F. Thanos to death in May, the state's first execution in 33 years. The District of Columbia and 13 states have no death penalty, although New York is expected to institute it this year, probably with lethal injection.
The change is more than academic in Virginia, which has executed 24 criminals since the Supreme Court restored the death penalty in 1976, more than any state other than Texas and Florida. About 55 people are waiting on Virginia's death row.
Proponents argue that intravenous drugs are a more humane way of performing executions, citing several botched electrocutions. Two cases in Virginia in recent years elicited complaints - once when an inmate bled profusely after voltage was turned on, and once when executioners had to shock a man a second time when a doctor detected a pulse after the first cycle.
But foes of the death penalty consider the switch to chemicals an insidious move designed to take some of the horror out of a horrible act.
``It allows us to kill people by reducing them to dogs and elevating us to humane, and we can feel better about ourselves,'' said Marie Deans, a longtime activist in Virginia who compared the practice to techniques used in Nazi Germany.
Moreover, Deans fears it will result in more death sentences. ``It encourages juries to feel less restrained about death penalties,'' she said. ``Everybody goes, `Well, I've put my dog to sleep, and it was painless.'''
Others aren't sure lethal injection makes that much difference. ``Any time someone's facing the fact that we're going to take their life, I don't think they're really worried about which way,'' said Ronald Angelone, director of the Virginia Department of Corrections.
To prepare for the change, state officials traveled to Texas to witness an execution and examine that state's procedures. Back in Virginia, they modified the well-lighted, sterile chamber used for executions at Greensville Correctional Center. A heavy-duty vinyl curtain has been installed to conceal the oak electric chair, and a padded, stainless-steel hospital table has been moved into the room in front of the curtain. Inmates will be strapped onto the table with leather restraints around their hands, feet and torso. Unlike those who die in the electric chair, their faces will not be covered with a mask.
Trained technicians will insert a catheter into the inmate's arm. Three chemicals will be injected: the first renders the prisoner unconscious, followed by two that halt the inmate's breathing and stop the heart from beating.
Angelone would not identify the exact chemicals used, although elsewhere sodium pentothal, Pavulon and potassium chloride are used. The entire process is designed to be painless and take a matter of minutes.
Other states that use the technique report few problems, although death penalty opponents have documented some instances in which mistakes appeared to cause pain before death.
``The execution we had, there was no problem,'' said Maxine Eldridge, a spokeswoman for the Maryland Division of Correction.
In Virginia, Dana Ray Edmonds could find out for sure this month. The 32-year-old inmate has exhausted his habeas corpus appeals and, at this point, has filed no court action to stop his execution.
Edmonds did not respond to several requests for an interview last week. His lawyer, Nadler, said he plans to file a request for executive clemency with Gov. George Allen this week and may go back to court to seek a last-minute stay if that is not successful.
``If you think the death penalty is appropriate, I don't think anybody meeting Dana would think he was the kind of person it was intended for,'' Nadler said. ``He's obviously a guy who got into some trouble when he was very young and came from a hard background, but he is a pretty nice guy.''
That's not the description of him in court papers. Edmonds was convicted of the July 22, 1983, murder of John Elliott, who ran a small grocery store in Danville near the North Carolina border. Elliott was found with a fractured skull and a deep knife wound on the right side of his neck, and the state contends he may have lived five minutes after being stabbed. About $40 was missing from his cash register.
Edmonds was arrested two days later. He maintained that he had been in the store to buy a drink when he and the owner got into a dispute and Elliott pulled a gun on him. Edmonds said he picked up a brick and threw it, hitting Elliott in the head and causing him to drop the gun. In the ensuing struggle, Edmonds grabbed a knife, but he said he did not stab the owner deliberately or take the money when he fled.
by CNB