Bill Vaught Remembers
Bill Vaught and Jeanette Popp
It was a short two years ago today that I was waking up in my motel room in Huntsville and driving to Livingston for the final visit with my brother John Wheat. I remember thinking to myself, "This isn't REALLY his last day on this earth". I remember the promise of his trial lawyer that my brother would never be executed because there were to many problems with the conviction. There were suppose to be enough appeals to let him die a "natural" death in prison. Even though I had been visiting with my brother the day before when he received the overnight letter from his appeal attorney notifying him that "everything that could be done had been done" and that "this terminates her services", I kept thinking "surely he will get at least ONE stay". I remember the fights that erupted within the family over who's turn it was to go back and see my brother. A sadness comes over me as I think of how this has forever damaged the relationships I had with various family members.
I remember that long drive from Livingston to Huntsville... and how we stopped at the Dairy Queen and waited for the time we were supposed to meet at the hospitality house. Sitting in that Dairy Queen, waiting... watching as the TDCJ van with "blacked out windows" carrying my brother and the escort cars full of guards drove past on their way to the Walls Unit. Then came that "awkward time" at the hospitality house... listening to the Chaplain explain how my brother was to be strapped down and inserted with the needle... how he would be given a chance to make a final statement... how we would know that he had finished what he had to say... how each of three drugs would be pumped into his body one at a time... what we could expect as a reaction to each of the drugs...
Then the final phone call came... the final time I spoke to my brother... I remember him telling me about his final meal... first he told me what he requested, then told me what they actually served him... I remember being shocked that he wasn't given what he wanted for his final meal... It wasn't like "Liver and onions, mashed potatoes and gravy, whole milk" was some exotic dish that wasn't readily obtainable in Huntsville... I remember thinking that TDCJ should give the family the opportunity to pay for purchasing the final meal so my brother could have the last meal he requested...
Then came that drive over to the Walls Unit... more waiting in the admin building... then the family was divided up... the witnesses on one side of the room... everyone else on the other... then a female guard came in and escorted the women to another room to be "searched" while I was searched there in the waiting room... more waiting... then the women returned... and more waiting... Then the walk across the street to the Walls Unit... looking over at the protesters... hearing someone's voice on a megaphone saying "our hearts go out to the family of John Wheat"... the look on my mothers face as she turned to me and then smiled saying "they said his name, they said his name"... the guard interrupting the moment with "keep moving"...
Thn we walked through those doors under that infamous clock to another waiting room... more waiting... then the time had come and we were lead down a hall... stopping because we were moving too fast and getting ahead of schedule... then on through more doors and then we were outside (yet still within the "Walls")... down a sidewalk and through another door... we were now in the "observation room"... a small room with a window at the opposite
end of the room... through the window was my brother... strapped to the gurney... as he saw us entering he said "I wonder if they can see me wiggling my fingers" (he had told us he would wave to us but his hands were taped up)... then he said "Oh, that's right, they can hear me saying I am wiggling my fingers"... Then his final words " "...
Then the my heart jumped at the sound of the first pump being activated... just a few minutes later and the doctor was brought in and pronounced "time of death 6:19" and it was over... we were whisked out the door and back across the street ("to be processed out")... While my mother and sister were rushed by another brother to the funeral home to "say goodbye and touch his body while it was still warm", I ran to join the protesters... I remember how good it was that there were so many wonderful people there to support me... I wish I could remember the names of everyone who was there... A special thanks to everyone who was there in person or in spirit...
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