Abolishing That Last Meal

Texas, the state that kills more death row inmates than any other, announced this week that they were giving up its tradition of the special last meal request after an egregious promise was fulfilled.   

Lawrence Brewer in Sheriff's vest

Lawrence Brewer, a white supremacist convicted of murdering James Byrd, Jr., a black man, in 1998, requested an enormous dinner this past Wednesday that included a triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, a meat-lover’s pizza, a big bowl of okra with ketchup, a pound of barbecue, a half loaf of bread, peanut butter fudge, a pint of ice cream, and two chicken fried steaks.
When the food arrived, he refused it, saying he wasn’t hungry.

    

Furious, Texas State Senator John Whitmire said, “Enough is enough.  It is extremely inappropriate to give the person sentenced to death such a privilege.  It’s a privilege… the perpetrator did not provide to their victim.”

State Senator John Whitmire

                                                                                                        

Yet this tradition has a history dating back before Christ.  The Romans honored it, even the Greeks.  But it used to serve a purpose.  The last meal was supposed to be a symbol of acceptance.  By partaking, the criminal supposedly accepted his fate without rancor, assuring society that justice was served and that he wouldn’t come back to haunt them.
In the last few years other states have also dropped this tradition, finding that death-row inmates ordered the food in anger to get back at society-at-large.
    

Maybe it was better in the past when the final meal included lots of booze so that the prisoner wouldn’t start screaming about how he didn’t get a fair hearing or beg for mercy to the community at large.

And not too long ago, prisoners were anxious to eat.

Miguel Flores consumed three beef enchiladas with onions, three cheese enchiladas with onions, Spanish rice, a bowl of jalapenos, an order of French fries, a cheeseburger, a bowl of mayonnaise, a bowl of ketchup, a bowl of salsa, three Dr. Peppers, a pitcher of ice, a banana split, and four quesadillas.

Delbert Teague asked for nothing but finally ate a hamburger at his mother’s request.   (No, she wasn’t Jewish, but she must’ve been worried about the long journey ahead.)

Philip Workman

Timothy McViegh, the Oklahoma bomber, ate two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and Philip Workman declined anything for himself but requested a pizza for a homeless man in Nashville.  The request was denied, but hundreds of shelters across the country were flooded with free pizzas in honor of Workman’s request.
                            

No, those monsters really don’t deserve anything special, but I like the story about the condemned man who wanted a very rare steak and a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild—from the year 2065.   He added, “And I don’t mind waiting.”