She Asked That No Man Touch Her as She Dies. Tennessee Would Not Promise That

Christa Pike’s last operational request is not a stay and not a new trial. It is that the people who strap her down, find a vein, and push pentobarbital through it on September 30 be women. Her lawyers say the demand is medical and consтιтutional, not theatrical: she was raped and Sєxually abused by men beginning when she was a toddler, she carries official diagnoses of PTSD and bipolar disorder, and a clinical psychologist testified that being restrained and injected by male officers would not merely frighten her but make her relive those ᴀssaults in the minutes she is dying. The Tennessee Department of Correction declined to guarantee an all-female chamber. That refusal now sits beside the rest of the plan. Shortly before 10:00 a.m. CDT she is to be moved from a women’s facility into Riverbend, a men’s maximum-security prison, isolated, and prepared under a protocol written for condemned men.

The request arrived after courts had already begun closing doors. A special master spent three August days on her veins, her thrombocytosis, the May botch of Tony Carruthers’s IV, and whether hanging would be safer. Hanging is illegal in Tennessee. On September 23 the state Supreme Court said she is unlikely to win any remaining challenge to the one-drug protocol. What is left is clemency and a last trip to the U.S. Supreme Court. United Nations experts have already told Washington and Nashville that transferring a woman with this history into male custody and male hands, after nearly three decades as the only woman on the row, completes a trajectory of cruelty they say can amount to torture. The state answers that the warrant is valid, the method is lawful, and the date is real.

Seven reporters have already been drawn to watch. The parking lot opens at 7:30 a.m. Badges come off within an hour of the press conference. The prison goes dark to cameras for 72 hours. Pike will either die in a room the state will not staff as she asked, or she will not die because Governor Bill Lee or a federal justice stops it. The department has published the rules for the first outcome. It has not published an answer to the second.

If he does nothing, the machinery already built will run. Media check-in at dawn. Official witnesses in the chamber. A press conference, then a 72-hour blackout on the grounds. Pike becomes a historical first and Slemmer’s family gets the date they have waited 31 years to see. If he grants clemency, the parking-lot rules become a document about an execution that never happened. The peтιтion is on his desk. The clock is not.