The Death and Life of Gabriel Phillips (31 page)

“Governor, you remember Officer Myers,” Rachel said as she led Andy over to the makeshift platform the prison had set up for the news conference.

“Of course,” he said as he smiled and extended his hand. “Good to see you again, Andy. Glad you could make it.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“Rachel here says you’re fine with answering a few questions from the press.”

“I’m a little nervous, but, yeah, I think I can do it.”

Chambliss slapped Andy on the back. “You’ll do great,” he said. “There’s nothing to it. I think you’ll enjoy the experience. She also told me you’re ready to come join my staff. That’s great. Can’t wait to have you.”

“Thank you, sir. Just being asked is a huge honor.” Andy didn’t bother correcting him by telling him that he hadn’t agreed to anything yet. Men like Chambliss don’t listen to much of what anyone says. Their entire lives are scripted to get them where they want to go as quickly as possible. Andy knew he was nothing more than a political prop, but he could live with that. This would all be over soon enough. He could put up with being a prop for a little while.

When the lights came on, Chambliss really shone. He opened his press conference by talking about justice and defending the rights of the victims of crime. He said something like, “I started this fight a long time ago, long before I ever even dreamed of running for statewide office. In spite of what the protestors would lead you to believe, this case is not about John Phillips and his rights. It is about a little boy whose life was taken away in a brutal, calculated act of cold-blooded murder. And it is about that child’s mother who, to this day, is still heartbroken over the loss of her child.” Apparently, no one in the governor’s office bothered to find out anything about Loraine’s current status. She, like Andy, was nothing more than a minor player in this grand theater.

Chambliss went on for a while longer, before turning to Andy and saying, “I would like to introduce to you the police officer who was instrumental in securing justice for poor little Gabriel Phillips. Officer Andrew Myers is now a proud member of the Indiana State Police. However, in June of 1978, he was a patrolman in the small town of Trask. He responded to a call of a domestic disturbance, and discovered the ghastly scene of Gabriel Phillips lying in a pool of his own blood. Officer Myers worked diligently, chasing down leads and interviewing witnesses, all in his tireless efforts to help us discover the truth of what happened in that home that night.” He motioned for Andy to step forward. “Officer Myers, on behalf of the entire state of Indiana, and on behalf of the victims of violent crime everywhere, I would like to say thank you.” Chambliss started the applause, and the members of the press joined in. Once the applause died down, the governor said, “I’ll now take a few questions . . .”

And that was it. Andy didn’t answer any questions. He didn’t share the press conference in any way. Not that he minded. Far from it. Andy stepped back into his place while Reginald Chambliss, Esquire, did what he did best. I guess the guy just couldn’t bring himself to share the spotlight. After answering questions for an hour, the governor thanked the members of the press for coming, then excused himself to take care of what he called “a very sad but necessary task.”

Chapter 24

T
HE OBSERVATION ROOM
for the execution chamber wasn’t built for the number of people who tried to squeeze into it. Andy was right. John Phillips’s date with the electric chair was
the
story of the year. Although no cameras were allowed in this part of the prison, television reporters with press passes lined up alongside print reporters and a couple of members of the national media. Listening to some of the conversation in the room, Andy discovered that most of those there were surprised it had taken this long for Indiana to carry out a death sentence. After all, it is one of those conservative heartland states that doesn’t mess around when it comes to crime.

Because of the overflow crowd, prison officials moved the governor, and the one member of his staff in attendance, from the glassed-off main gallery to a section just to the side of the actual area where the sentence would be carried out. The staff member was a slight little man who worked in the attorney general’s office. The attorney general refused to attend, out of his opposition to capital punishment. However, he never said anything publicly. To do so would embarrass the governor, and put his own job in jeopardy.

When they moved the governor out of the gallery, Andy started to stay behind with the press. Chambliss motioned for him. “Come on in here, Andy. You’ve earned it. This is the culmination of all you’ve done.” Andy fell in step behind him. Then in a rare moment of honesty, Chambliss said, “I guess if I’m going to support these things, I need to see it up close and personal, instead of getting the sanitized version.”

“I guess so, sir,” Andy said.

Andy found himself standing directly next to the governor, with the other staff member on the opposite side. The place where they stood felt secluded, at least as secluded as a place could be with so many people around. A large window allowed those in the gallery to see the electric chair, but Andy and the governor were far enough to the side that they were out of view of everyone except the prison officials who would carry out the death sentence. There were no chairs in this part of the room, which neither Andy nor the governor seemed to mind. The warden stood on the opposite side of the room, near where the guards carrying out the sentence would be. Andy figured it was so he could issue the final order to carry out the sentence.

At 11:05 p. m., a door opened, and two guards came walking in with John Phillips between them. One guard had his hand on John’s shoulders. Both guards’ faces were streaked red, their eyes bloodshot. One wiped away tears as he entered. John . . . well, John didn’t look nearly as upset as the guards. He wasn’t upset at all. He walked in with a smile on his face. Most of those watching must have thought he was crazy, but then again, a guy would have to be pretty much nuts to kill his own child. When one of the guards seemed to stumble as if his knees had gone weak, John patted him on the back and said, “It’s okay. You can do this.”

Chambliss glanced over at Andy with a smirk. “What the hell was that?” the governor whispered.

“I’m not real sure, sir,” Andy whispered back. “It looks like the guards are having a hard time doing their jobs.”

“Remind me to fire them later,” Chambliss joked.

The guards led John to the electric chair itself. He plopped down into it like an old man settling into his favorite chair to watch
Gunsmoke
. This caused the guard on his left to break down emotionally. As he started weeping, he looked up and noticed the governor. Andy described the look the guard shot Chambliss as more lethal than anything they would do to John. The other guard whispered something to his partner, and both straightened up. A prison chaplain entered the execution room and put his arm around John. “Let’s pray,” he said to both John and everyone in attendance. A speaker system allowed the gallery to hear him. Andy watched as the two guards lowered their heads, as did the warden. Even Reginald Chambliss, Esquire, dropped his head like a kid in a Sunday school class.

And that’s when Andy did it.

As the chaplain said, “Our Father in heaven,” Andy stepped back and behind the governor, then reached below his shirt with his right hand and pulled out his service revolver. With his left hand he took hold of Chambliss’s arm, just above his elbow, and pulled him back toward himself as he pushed the gun into his back. “Shhhhhh,” Andy whispered in the governor’s ear, “don’t make a sound and you won’t get hurt. Just do exactly what I say and you will walk out of here alive. Otherwise, I can’t make any promises.”

“By your rich mercy and grace we beseech thee, O Lord,” the chaplain prayed.

“Now this is how this is all going to go down,” Andy whispered. “There’s been a change of plans, new evidence if you will.” He released the governor’s arm for just a moment and reached back to pull out two envelopes he had stuffed into his belt inside his shirt, just above his back. He placed them in the governor’s hand. “The small one, that’s for the warden. Make sure he reads every word out loud.”

“How can I give it to him if you’re holding me here?” Chambliss said ever so softly.

“O Giver of Life, who creates all men in his image,” the chaplain continued.

“Give it to your assistant and have him take it over. The other one, the thick manila envelope, that’s for Phillips. Got it?” Andy said.

“We ask that you will have pity on the soul of John Phillips,” the chaplain went on.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Chambliss growled.

“That’s all right,” Andy said with a smile, “I don’t plan to.”

“This is a prison, filled with armed guards. They’ll drop you with one shot as soon as they realize what you are doing.”

“You’re probably right. But then again, you’ll be dead a half second before me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Chambliss’s voice was a mixture of shock, fear, and anger.

“Let’s just call it my own little witness protection program,” Andy said.

“We ask all of this in the name of your precious Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

The chaplain patted John on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. As he did, Andy pressed the gun a little harder into the governor’s back. Chambliss then spoke up like a puppet on a ventriloquist’s lap. “Simon”—his assistant’s name was Simon—“would you have the warden read this for me.” Simon looked a little surprised, but he did what he was told. Apparently, Reginald Chambliss rarely if ever did anything that hadn’t been carefully choreographed first.

Simon walked across the room, passing directly in front of John and the guards, as well as the glass window separating this room from the observation gallery. “The governor asked if you would read this for him.”

The warden looked over at Chambliss with a shocked look on his face. “Now?” Chambliss nodded. The warden glanced down at the words on the page, then looked up quickly. “Really?!” Chambliss nodded again. “Out loud?!”

“Yes. Out loud. Now,” Chambliss said, very much annoyed.

The warden cleared his throat, then said to the two guards who were about to soak the sponge that would go between John’s head and the electrodes, “There’s been a change of plans here today.” The moment he said this, both guards looked visibly relieved. Very, very relieved. “Governor Chambliss has just handed me a statement he has prepared. He asked that I read it to you.” Now, I can’t quote the whole statement word for word, but I can give you the gist of what it said. Basically, “the governor’s” statement said that new evidence had just come to light that exonerated John Phillips. He went on to say that he was only now revealing this new evidence to draw attention to the injustices and inequities of the criminal justice system. That system, along with the appeals courts, had failed John. He was—and this was why Andy had the warden read it rather than Reginald Chambliss himself, because ole Chambliss would have choked on these words—the victim of a rush to judgment by a cynical investigative team more interested in proving a point than uncovering the truth, and an overeager prosecutor who viewed this case as an opportunity for political advancement. The statement didn’t mention that Chambliss himself was that overeager prosecutor, but Andy figured everyone would make that connection themselves. Therefore, the statement said, “I am granting John Phillips a full pardon. Even that is a misnomer, for a pardon implies guilt, but Mr. Phillips has done nothing wrong. I hereby order his immediate release and, on behalf of the state of Indiana, extend to him our deepest apologies.” That last part I can quote. Written below the public statement was a set of instructions the warden was to give to the guards. He communicated those to them directly, but no one else could hear what he said.

I wish I could have seen for myself the scene that unfolded as the warden read the statement Andy had written for the governor. The two guards began weeping with joy as they listened to it. When the warden got down to the part about the pardon, they walked over and embraced John. After spending over three years with John, they knew better than anyone else that he didn’t deserve the sentence he’d been given—well, almost anyone else. I even think the warden himself was a little relieved. Outside of Reginald Chambliss, Esquire, there wasn’t a person in the room that truly believed John was guilty. John, he didn’t cry. A little grin broke out on his face as his eyes looked up toward heaven. Andy could read his lips saying, “Thank you” to God. None of them had any idea what was really happening. No one did, or Andy would have never gotten away with it.

From the other side of the glass, Andy could hear both cheers and anger from those watching all this unfold. Everyone seemed to accept what was happening without question. At least it seemed that way to Andy. Of course, he couldn’t see any of them, and they couldn’t see him.

While this was all going on, Chambliss turned about eight shades of red. Apparently, Chambliss believed Andy would pull the trigger because he never said or did anything to tip off those in the room that something was amiss. As for Andy, he didn’t move. He stood behind the governor, his .38 pressed up tight into Chambliss’s back, and showed no expression whatsoever.

Once the warden finished reading the “governor’s” statement, Chambliss handed the other envelope to his assistant and told him to give it to John. Simon did exactly as he was told. John opened it and pulled out the note inside. Then he stood up from the electric chair and walked out of the room with the two guards, both hugging him on the way out. Per their instructions, they took him immediately to the front gate. The last they or anyone else saw of him, he was walking out into the parking lot. No one else left the room until the two guards returned. This created a rather awkward situation. When the warden tried to walk over to Chambliss, the governor told him to stay where he was. The warden looked at him like he was nuts, which would have been a pretty good assessment if Chambliss had actually written the prepared statement that set John free. Finally the two guards walked back into the execution chamber. “He’s gone,” one of them said.