The Executioner's Song

  Father Meersman recited the Confiteor, " . . . I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do," and heard the echo of the old Confiteor. "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault"

  Then the priest read from Gary's favorite Psalm. From experience Meersman knew it was most familiar to him over the first few Lines.

  Bless the Lord, O my soul: and let all that is within me bless His holy name.

  Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all He hath done for thee.

  Who forgiveth all thy iniquities: who healeth all thy diseases.

  Who redeemeth thy life from destruction: who crowneth thee with mercy and compassion.

  Who satisfieth thy desire with good things: thy youth shall be renewed like the eagle's.

  Father Meersman read next from the Gospel, Mark 2: 1-12, and again he gave only the first part. "Son, thy sins are forgiven thee."

  Strictly speaking, thought Meersman, he wasn't supposed to deviate from the Gospel of the Day, but in a case of this sort, he didn't think anybody would fault him for it.

  "This is My Body . . . this is My Blood," said Father Meersman, consecrating the bread and wine, and held up the host and the chalice, and the guard who was serving as an altar boy rang the bell thrice—so would Father Meersman describe it—rang the bell thrice.

  "Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof. Speak only the word and my soul shall be healed."

  Father Meersman took communion. After he had drunk the wine, and the altar boy had gone to communion, and the other guards at the head table behind Gary, being Mormon, merely watched, Gary took the wafer on his tongue in the old style, mouth open, way back, in the way, observed Father Meersman, he had received as a child, and then he drank from the chalice. Father Meersman stood beside him while Gary consumed the bottom of the cup.

  Father Meersman thought it was a beautiful night and very good. Gary had blessed himself at the beginning of the Mass, and then had listened in a subdued way. Now that it was all over, he kidded Father Meersman. "Padre," he said, "I don't think the wine was as strong as it could have been."

  Sunday, 2:00 A.M

  Hi Elf

  When you're released go to Vern's. I have given him a lot of things to give you.

  They will be in a black duffel bag, taped shut—

  There will be my photo album, some jewelry, a lot of books, Gary Gilmore T-shirts, a few letters, mostly from foreign countries.

  A Sony radio.

  I been tryin to get a sacred eye ring from the Aladdin House Jewelry Company in New York. If I can get it today, I'll put it in with the stuff.

  Oh Baby Baby Baby I miss you!

  I love you with all I am.

  They play our song a lot. "Walking in the footsteps of your mind" I don't know if you get to listen to the radio. KSOP in Salt Lake really likes us. They play "Valley of Tears" for us.

  In about 30 hrs. I will be dead.

  Thats what they call it—death. Its just a release—a change of form.

  I hope I've done it all right.

  God Nicole. I feel such power in our love. I don't think we're s'posed to know right now what this is about. We're just supposed to do it right. It's inside of us, the knowledge. But we can't consciously know it till later.

  Angel its a quarter to 3 in the mornin. I'm gonna get some shut-eye. Write you some more in a little . . .

  The Mormon boy whom the Church sent to look after Bessie was a young married man named Doug Hiblar, and he felt he had come a little closer to Bessie in the last month. Sometimes, she still would not let him in, and he would just tell her through the door that he loved her, and leave, but there were days when she was receptive, and encouraged by that, he once made the mistake of telling her he understood how she felt. That was an error. Bessie said, "You don't know." He thought about it and recognized he didn't, and would never know, and did not use such words with her again. Perhaps it made a difference. She seemed to talk to him more after that.

  Saturday night, he went to visit her, even as he had been visiting all week, and she seemed calm. It was as if she expected the Courts would postpone things. She had been talking the week before of going to Utah, but he got the idea Gary convinced her not to. Doug figured it would take from her son's strength if he saw her.

  Bessie may have looked calm, but she couldn't sleep. All week she had been afraid of a night when she would go to bed and come awake with Gary dead. So, each night, she spent most of the hours sitting up. After Mikal's call came in each evening from Salt Lake, she might drowse, but then she would stir again, and there would be no more sleep. Just the long storm of insomnia to travel through. In her mind, like telegrams she could not bear to open, would appear the words, "How can I reach Gary? How can I tell him what it will do?" For she felt as if a sword would sever one half of herself from the other when the moment came.

  She would think of Y Mountain in Provo and of the day she went back to Utah when her father was dying. Mikal was with her, and the boy had said, "Will you show me your mountain?" It was night and she answered, "I'll show you in the morning." The dawn, however, came in with fog, and Mikal remarked, "I don't see a mountain." He was eight years old.

  "It's there," Bessie said. "The mountain is telling me that my dad is not going to live." Indeed he died, a few days later.

  One of those nights in Provo, waiting for her father to pass away, there had been a rally for a football game, and BYU students went filing up the mountain with torches. Mikal said, "Mother, come out and look. You have never seen anything like this."

  "Oh, Mikal, I have seen it before," she told him. "Remember, this is my mountain."

  All her nieces and nephews looked at her as if to say, "Who do you think you are? You don't even live around here." She would smile at them. They did not understand. When people asked her, "Don't you get homesick to come back?" she would reply, "No, but I get homesick for my mountain. Because I own that." She knew they thought she was uppity.

  On this recollection, she said good-bye to Saturday night and greeted the dawn.

  Chapter 30

  SUNDAY MORNING, SUNDAY AFTERNOON

  It's 10 A.M. Sun Morn. I got up and showered and shaved—well first I did my exercise, 10 minutes running. These fucking guards think I'm nuts when I run up and down the tier. Almost all these guards are fat lazy fuckers.

  Hey you're an elf, ain't ya?!

  They asked me who I invite to watch me get shot. I said

  Number One: Nicole

  Two: Vern Damico

  Three: Ron Stanger, lawyer

  Four: Bob Moody, lawyer

  Five: Lawrence Schiller, big Wheeler dealer from Hollywood.

  I knew they wouldn't let you come, so I said to just reserve a place in your honor.

  The New York Post said I was auctioning off seats. Lot of people write a lot of shit in the paper.

  Baby you said if I am shot . . . what will be in you?

  I will.

  I will come to and hold you my darling companion.

  Do not doubt.

  I'll show you.

  Baby I've been avoiding something but I'll come to it right now.

  If you choose to join me or if you choose to wait—it is your choice.

  Whenever you come I will be there.

  I swear on all that is holy.

  I do not want anybody else to ever have you if you choose to wait.

  You are mine.

  My soul mate.

  Indeed, my very soul.

  Do not fear nothingness my Angel. You will never experience it.

  Sunday morning, Lucinda was typing the transcript of yesterday's interview when all of a sudden, she couldn't help it and made a sound. Schiller turned around. She was crying her head off, right there on Sunday morning.

  Vern was on the phone to Larry. Offers were coming in from wax museums to buy Gary's clothes. The sums were up to several thousand dollars.
While there was no question of selling, it had now become a matter of safeguarding the last things Gary wore. Then they decided they had better protect his remains as well. While the prison would deliver Gary's body to the Salt Lake hospital where his eyes and organs would be removed, Schiller decided to post his own guard. He had truly lucked into Jerry Scott. Just the man to keep watch when they moved Gary from the hospital to the crematorium.

  GILMORE Fagan said, "There's still a chance you'll get your phone call from Nicole." I told him, "You foul, sleazy cocksucker, fuck you in the ass." He said, "Oh, ah ah ah ah." He says, "My hands are tied." I said, "Well, how does it feel to walk around with your hands tied? Have you ever thought about feeling like a man, you piece of shit." I don't even know if I'll come in to the visiting room tonight. Fagan will say, "Well, we really treated him great on his last night. We gave him unlimited visits. We let him see his uncle and his lawyers." (laugh)

  Moody began his last list of questions.

  MOODY If on your passage you meet a new soul coming to take your place, what advice would you have for him?

  GILMORE Nothing. I don't expect someone to take my place. Hi, I'm your replacement . . . where's the key to the locker . . . where do you keep the towels?

  MOODY I don't know, wouldn't you have something to tell him about the life that ah . . . awaits him?

  GILMORE Shit. That's a serious question.

  MOODY I think he wants you to be very serious about it.

  GILMORE I've talked to people who know more than I do, and people who know less, and I listen, and I decided the only fucking thing I know about death, the only real feeling I have about it, it'll be familiar.

  I don't think it'll be a harsh, unkind thing. Things that're harsh and unkind, are here on earth, and they're temporary. They don't last. This all passes. That is my summation of my ideas, and I might be all wet.

  MOODY Do you know what Joe Hill's last message to the Wobblies was?

  GILMORE Joe?

  MOODY Joe Hill. He's a man who was killed in Utah a number of years ago.

  GILMORE His name was Joe Hillstrom. What did he tell the Wobblies?

  MOODY "Don't mourn, boys, organize."

  GILMORE Don't warn?

  MOODY "Don't mourn, boys, organize."

  GILMORE Well, I got something like that I kinda like: "Never fear, never breathe." That's a Muslim saying. I don't know where they got it, but you can apply it to anything, it makes pretty good sense.

  "Don't mourn, boys, organize."

  MOODY You know the old line in the war movies, "Any man who said he ain't scared is either a liar or a fool"?

  GILMORE What about it?

  MOODY Doesn't that apply at least a little to your situation?

  GILMORE I didn't say I wasn't scared, did I?

  MOODY No. But your message to the world has the connotation of don't fear.

  GILMORE Well, why fear? It's negative. You know you could damn near call it a sin if you let fear run your life.

  MOODY You're certainly determined to defeat fear.

  GILMORE I don't feel any fear right now. I don't think I will tomorrow morning. I haven't felt any yet.

  MOODY How are you able to overcome fear from coming into your soul?

  GILMORE I guess I'm lucky. It hasn't come in. You know a truly brave man is somebody who feels fear and goes out and does what he's supposed to do in spite of it. You couldn't really say i'm that fucking brave because I ain't fighting against fear and overcoming it. I don't know about tomorrow morning . . . I don't know if I'll feel any different tomorrow morning than I do right now, or than I felt on the first of November when I waived the fucking appeal.

  MOODY Well, you're remarkably composed.

  GILMORE Thank you, Bob.

  MOODY I don't know what to say, I just really . . .

  GILMORE Look, man, I'm being kind of rude. You guys are a little upset about all of this, aren't ya?

  MOODY It's hard, Gary. I'm physically ill.

  At this point, Bob Moody began to cry. A little later, when he got control of himself, he and Gilmore and Stanger talked a bit more. Then, they said good-bye. They would return in the late afternoon to visit through the night. As they went out, Gilmore said, "Don't forget the vest." "The what?" asked Bob. "The bullet-proof vest," said Gilmore. "I'll wear it in myself," said Moody. "You guys take care," Gilmore said.

  Sunday morning, Vern went to Maximum Security and talked to Gary on the telephone, looking through the glass. For once they spoke about his mother's sisters in Provo. Gary was curious why none of his aunts, except for Ida, had been to see him. "What do you think?" he asked directly.

  "Oh, Gary," Vern said, "I'm sure they wanted to, but I can't answer for them." In Vern's head, he was still hearing one of Ida's sisters say, "I just can't make myself go up and talk to him."

  Gary said, "Mom is too sick, or she would be here."

  There was such a long, grim silence that Gary began to sing a Johnny Cash song. Rolled his eyes back and tried to let her out. When Gary saw Vern laughing, he said, "Well, I satisfy myself." Vern roared. "I'll sing you a little ditty," he told him.

  Gary groaned. "Not 'Old Shep.' " Vern was famous for singing "Old Shep." Every year when the Archery Club had their dinner, Vern would sing it.

  "Yes, 'Old Shep,' " said Vern.

  When I was a lad, and Old Shep was a pup, Over hills and meadows we'd roam.

  Just a boy and his dog, we were both full of fun

  And we grew up together that way.

  As the years went along, Old Shep, he grew old

  And his eyesight was fast growing dim

  Then one day the doctor looked up at me and said,

  "I can't do no more for him, Jim."

  With a hand that was trembling, I picked up my gun

  And aimed it at Shep's faithful head

  But I just couldn't do it, oh, I wanted to run,

  And wished they would shoot me instead.

  Now, Old Shep, he knew he would go,

  He looked and licked at my hand,

  He stared up at me, just as much as to say,

  "We're parting, but you'll understand."

  Now Old Shep, he has gone where the good doggies go,

  And no more with Old Shep will I roam,

  But if dogs have a heaven, there's one thing I know,

  Old Shep has a wonderful home.

  "Yuck," said Gary.

  "That's all for today," said Vern. "That's as good as you deserve."

  2

  The Legal Defense Fund of the NAACP made available a lawyer in Washington named John Shattuck. He was going to present a petition for Athay to the United States Supreme Court. After the loss, therefore, in Judge Lewis's Court on Saturday afternoon, Athay's office dictated a brief over the telephone. On Sunday it was carried by Shattuck to the Supreme Court, and filed.

  At 6:25 in the evening, D.C. time, which was 4:25 P.M. in Utah, a phone call came in to Athay from the Clerk of the Court, Michael Rodak. Justice White had endorsed the following quotation: "The application for stay is denied. I am authorized to say that a majority of my colleagues concur in this action. Bryron R. White, Associate Justice."

  Since the decision was not unanimous, Shattuck tried to approach other Justices. If one could find the right man on the minority side, he might grant a Stay. That would give an opportunity to offer one's arguments.

  Justice Blackmun responded, "The application for stay having been presented to me, after its denial by Justice White, is denied. Harry A. Blackmun, Associate Justice, January 16, 1977."

  Justice Brennan had not been contacted. The advice came from Washington that if Athay were to call and express the urgency of the situation, it might have impact. Justice Brennan had shown inclinations favorable to cases like this. So Athay, provided with an unlisted phone number, phoned person-to-person, and a voice came on and said, "This is Justice Brennan speaking." Athay had no more than introduced himself and said, "I'm involved in the Gary Gilmore case,"
when "Oh, my" he heard on the other end, and a click. He placed the call again. He could swear the same voice came on to say, "I'm sorry, he's out of town." He felt aghast. He knew, yet how could he ever know for certain whether he'd reached Justice Brennan or not?

  Athay had now exhausted everything he could do for Dale Pierre.

  Waiting through Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon was murder. Schiller had a list of questions pinned to the wall next to the telephone. If Gilmore called again, and he wasn't there, Barry could take the call, or if Barry was also out, one of the girls would talk. The questions were ready. You didn't have to hem and haw, or conceal identities. Gary understood they were in a countdown.

  All the same, Schiller was depressed. The high ambitions he had had for this interview were by now pretty thoroughly defeated. Mikal had left Utah, and with him had gone Schiller's best chance to get a few last-minute insights to Gary. He felt as if he had lost contact.

  Who could believe Gary would have gotten so angry about Moyers?

  When Mikal threatened to be a major obstacle to the execution, Gary must have set out to neutralize him. Became the big brother Mikal had never seen. The role had gotten too good. Gary was carrying on as if Schiller had really violated him. After all, belief in your own role was crucial to a hustle. But Schiller felt it was a steep price to pay..

  Moody telephoned from the prison, "You're going to get a call from the Warden." he told Schiller. "You are going to see the execution."