The Executioner's Song (79 page)

After she gave him the balloon, Gary sat down and reached through the front of his big, wide, floppy, loose pants, big baggy things, to push the balloon up his rectum. It was a slow, tricky business, not at all easy, and took over a minute. When it was done, he just said, "Yeah, they're there. I know." Then she sat on his lap and kissed him.

                She felt fine. She realized how worried she had been. Nicole had been sure the prison had gotten word from the doctors and would check her. So she was feeling proud of her accomplishment now, and Gary was very proud of her. The visit went on for at least another hour. They necked like crazy. It was the most beautiful of their visits.

                When they weren't kissing, they were singing to one another. Neither of them could sing, but it was beautiful all the same. She had never felt as near to anyone's soul in her life.

That evening, Marie Barrett got a call from Nicole asking if she would pick her up. Nicole wanted to visit with Sunny. They sat around the living room watching Sybil on TV, and Nicole said the girl sure reminded her of April. She went into the bedroom and read Sunny some stories, and listened to her prayers, and then visited in the front room with Marie and her ex-father-in-law Tom Barrett who she also liked, and finally went home, although she kind of drug her feet about leaving.

Then, she went night shopping with her neighbor, Kathy Maynard. The center was open till 9 P.M., and Nicole went on a splurge and bought coloring books and crayons for all of Kathy's kids.

                When they returned, she handed $10 to Kathy and said, "Come on, if you don't take it, you're going to make me feel bad." Kathy just looked at her. Kathy wasn't that big, and had ash-blond hair and round eyes kind of, and a sweet simple face. It just looked bewildered now. Nicole said, "You enjoy it." "See you in the morning," said Kathy. "In the morning," said Nicole.

Alone in the apartment, with Jeremy sound asleep, Nicole was waiting for midnight. That was the time she and Gary had picked for the pills, only it took a long time to get there. It kept coming over Nicole how Gary had worried that the amount was not enough.

                He had explained that if you took enough to put you out, but not enough to die, you could become a vegetable. That was truly something to worry about. Yet, they'd agreed to go forward. Either it would work or it wouldn't. Nicole now got out her Last Will and Testament.

                She had spent all day Sunday writing it, and she went over it again for spelling errors. She was pretty sure, in fact, a couple of mistakes had been made. It was a long Last Will and Testament, and there were probably errors she didn't catch, but she felt all right about it.

Nicole K. Baker

Sun. Nov. 4, 1976

TO WHOMEVER IT MAY CONCERN:

                I, Nicole Kathryne Baker—have a number of personal requests I would desire to have carried out—in the event that I am at any time—found dead.

                I am considering myself of a strong, logical, and totally sane mind—so that which I am writing should be taken serious in every respect.

                At the time of this writing I am going through a divorce from a man named Steve Hudson.

                By my own standards—the event of death should disolve all ties with that man and the divorce be carried through and finalized AT ALL COSTS.

                I wish to legally be returned to my maiden name which is Baker.

                And have none ever acknoledge me by any other name.

                My daughters birth certificate states her name as Sunny Marie Baker, even thoe, at the time of her birth, I was then legally married to her father—James Paul Barrett.

                My son's birth certificate states his name as Jeremy Kip Barrett. Because I was at that time still married to James Paul Barrett, who is not Jeremys father.

                Jeremys father is the late Alfred Kip Eberhardt.

                So Jeremy does have legal grandparents by the last name of Eberhardt who may wish to be notified of his whereabouts. They are residing in Paoli, Pennsylvania, I think.

                As to the care custody and welfare of my children—I am not only desireing but demanding that the responsibility of them and any decisions concerning them—be placed directly and immeadiatly into the hands of Thomas Giles Barrett and/or Marie Barrett of Springville, Utah.

                If the Barretts so wish to adopt my children—they have my willing consent.

                If they wish to place the responsibility of one or both children into the hands of another responsible party of their choice—they again have my willing consent.

                That is of course—until the children are of legal age to make their own choices.

                I have a pearl ring in hock in the bowling alley in Springville. I would really like for someone to get it out and give it to my little Sister—April L. Baker.

                Also I have made arrangements for a sum of money to go for April's mental health problem. My mother should not spend that money for anything other than to pay a good Mental Hospital for helping April back to her sanity.

                Now, as to the decision as to what should be done with my dead body—I ask that it be cremated. And with the consent of Mrs. Bessie Gilmore I would have my ashes mixed with those of her son Gary Mark Gilmore. To be then—at any future convenient date scattered upon a green hillside in the State of Oregon and also in the State of Washington.

                If my own mother and father—Charles R. Baker and Kathryne N. Baker are not agreeable to this request—so be it. Let them decide as they choose.

                I would ask that they arrange for at least three songs to be sung at my funeral . . .

                A song written by John Newton called (Amazing Grace), also one by Kris Kristofferson titaled Cocky me) and lastly a song titaled (Vally of Tears) which I know not the author of.

                If any other persons, friends or family wish to sing or have sung any more songs at my funeral on my behalf or on behalf of those who grieve, resent or are indifferent to my passing—why . . . I would be grateful.

                Now going through it, Nicole realized she had more to say, just a little more. She had not really disposed of her belongings. In the quiet of her apartment, she sat at the table before a piece of paper:

Nicole K. Baker

Mon. Nov. 5, 1976

                I do not feel much like writing this day, Thoe I suppose there are a couple of things left I should take care of.

                No, jest this.

                Everything in my apartment of course—my mother can decide what to do with.

                I have nothing here of great value except the painting of the two little boys gazeing at the moon. It is Sunny Marie Barretts painting now. It is to be hung in her roam at Tom and Marie Barretts house, until or unless she asks that it be removed—and I would rather she never sell it—but the choice should be hers when she reaches the age of 18.

                Again I state, the painting of the two little boys gazeing at the moon, done by Gary Gilmore now belongs to Sunny Marie Baker Barrett.

                My mother has my every consent to take all or any of my letters and do with them what she pleases. If they can in any way bring her some money—then I'll be all the gladder. But I would desire her to share the money as she sees fair—with all my brothers and sisters and also my Aunt—Kathy Kampman.

                Since there are so many people trying and being successful at makeing money on the story of Gary Gilmore and l, I would jest as soon it was someone I love and care for and trust to have part of that success. So . . . the letters are my Mothers, Kathryn N. Baker's.

                If she wishes to burn them—so be it also.

                My Mother probably has little use for any of my household belongings—which are of no value—so I would truely like for my good friend Kathy Maynard to have any of my furniture she chooses and any of the things hanging on my walls—jest anything in this apartment that my Mother would not feel too reluctant to part with.

                I do hope Marie is reasonable about it. Kathy M. has helped me through many a long hard day—she has little furniture and that sort of stuff . . .

                That's it.

                NICOLE K. BAKER

There were a lot of pills and she took them slowly, swallowing one or two at a time, being careful not to gag. If she threw up, the whole thing would be blown. In the middle, she started having a lot of thoughts. She remembered the guy from the television station in Boston who was going to pay the $2,000 and worried whether he would honor it now when she was gone. Without it, where would April get the money for her hospital? She was also thinking that he had said he would be here in the morning and what if she didn't answer his ring? Would he come in? If she wasn't departed by then, they might revive her. So she had to decide whether or not to lock the door.

                She didn't want anybody to be able to walk in. Yet if they had to break the door, that noise could terrify Jeremy. On the other hand, if the door wasn't locked, Jeremy could open it with no trouble and wander out in the morning. Kathy Maynard might pick him up, carry him back and discover her too soon. Finally, Nicole turned the latch.

                Still, that made her miserable, thinking of Jeremy moping around tomorrow looking at her.

Now she was taking three or four Seconal at a time with water, and Gary was sitting with her. There weren't even seconds these days that she did not think of him. But, now he was very near and she began to think of how soon she would be with him and how she trusted him and was not afraid. Then she thought of lying down without her clothes on, and wondered what to do about that. She did not want to die with her clothes on, that was for sure. But she did feel strange about taking them off. Reporters might come in the morning and look at her body.

                As she got into bed, she took a picture of Gary and put it under the pillow and held on to it with her hand, and felt a little extra naked tonight. Then the pills started to feel good. She felt it really coming on. Got out of bed and walked around a little just to have that good feeling of her legs moving in one nice floating feeling after the other.

                It was awful nice, as if she were learning to walk for the first time, and her legs started to get heavy. She lay down and held onto the picture of Gary again, and thought of the letter she had written in the ten minutes before she took the pills. Reading over the Last Will and Testament and the letter how to dispose of her furniture, she decided there had been nothing very personal, truly, to her mother and family. So she'd written an additional letter, and she was thinking of that, and of Kathy Maynard next door who was the nicest neighbor she'd ever had, an angel and a stand-up neighbor. Then that very last letter began to swim around her mind and Nicole went to sleep.

                i Love him.

                i made my own choice.

                i'll not regret it.

                Please Love my kids always, as they are part of the family.

                Never hid truths from them.

                When any of you need me, i will be there to listen for i and Gary—and yourselves—are all a part of a wondrous good understandin God.

                May this parting bring us closer in Loveing, understanding and expecting of one another.

                i Love You All SISSY

Mon. Nov. 5, 1976

                Mom, Dad, Rik, April, Mike, Angel

                —Everybody knows that i Love and Care for You.

                Please do not resent my leaving this life.

                I'm not trying to hurt anyone—if I could spare you all any pain—surely would.

                But i just go. Because i want to so bad.

                Wanting a thing like that—and not granting it to myself—would surely turn me into some bitter ugly old maid in just a matter of time—or possibly I would lose my sanity.

                I think you all pretty much understand about me and Gary. if you don't well time will tell all.

                i Love him. More than life and more than that.

                And i Love you all very much. i could never have asked for a better family. We've been over a few rough spots a time or two—but i hope that any wrong i've done anyone will be forgiven me as easy as i forgive.

                i don't want to talk anymore, i'm sorry i should have written this sooner, i had so much to say.

                Well, all will ultimately be clear and right just know that i love you all today and i will love you always.