By Christy Feinberg
Englewood Sun
STARKE, Fla. — People die all the time -- in hospitals, in crashes, in wars.
It’s not often a death involves procedures, scheduling, witnesses and press conferences. But that’s what happens when an execution takes place in Florida.
Former cop-turned-serial killer Manuel Pardo Jr. was executed last week at Florida State Prison.
About a dozen citizens -- loved ones of Pardo’s victims -- watched, along with media and corrections officials.
There is a real possibility residents from Charlotte and Sarasota counties will be occupying those seats in the future because there are 12 men on Death Row who committed murders in this area.
Those opposed to execution argue it is the government committing murder. Supporters view it as justice, or the carrying out of a sentence. This isn’t intended to delve into that deeply personal debate, but rather to explain what happens behind the walls at Florida State Prison.
The execution process begins when the governor signs a death warrant. But in reality, the journey to the chamber begins long before the governor’s involvement.
‘My war’
Pardo, 56, killed nine people over a few months in 1986. To make matters worse, he was supposed to be one of those people who are sworn to serve and protect. He was a law enforcement officer, a veteran and a Boy Scout leader.
Pardo claimed he was killing drug dealers, ridding the Earth of scum, he told jurors.
Some of Pardo’s victims were involved in the 1980s cocaine-fueled culture in Miami, but some happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Even on his last day alive, Pardo continued to beat a war drum against drug traffickers:
‘I accept full responsibility for killing the six men, but I never harmed those three women or any female. ... My war was against men who were trafficing (sic) in narcotics, and no one else,’ Pardo handwrote in a full-page last statement.
Pardo had an infatuation with the military, order, uniforms -- but especially Hitler and the Nazi regime. He even had his dog tattooed with a swastika.
He asked jurors for the death sentence, and that’s what they granted him in 1988.
Death Row
Within about a square mile on the Starke-Raiford line live 400 of the most dangerous men in the state at Florida State Prison and Union Correctional Institution.
The Death Row for females is located at the Lowell Correctional Institution Annex. There are no local females on Death Row.
Pardo had been on Death Row at Florida State Prison, along with local inmates Robert Trease, 59, of Sarasota County; Michael King, 41, of North Port; and Dwight Eaglin, 36, and Stephen Smith, 51, both formerly of Charlotte Correctional Institution, south of Punta Gorda.
Pardo was the third inmate executed this year in Florida, and the 74th since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976.
Pardo spent 24 years on Death Row, where inmates live without air-conditioning in a cell the size of an average area rug: 6 feet by 9 feet.
Inmates receive three meals a day in their cells, where they eat using sporks. They can shower every other day. Smoking isn’t allowed.
Inmates may have a 13-inch television in their cells, but there is no cable. Radios also are permitted.
Most on Death Row are awaiting the lengthy appeals process. However James Ford, 52, originally from DeSoto County, has exhausted all of his appeals. Ford was convicted of murdering Greg and Kimberly Malnory in 1997 on a sod farm off State Road 31 in rural Charlotte County.
Inmates serve on average 13 years on Death Row before being executed, according to the Department of Corrections. Serial killer Danny Rolling was the last inmate who served less than 13 years before being executed in 2006. The three most recent executions involved inmates who served a combined 81 years, or an average of 27 years, before their sentences were carried out.
‘Death Watch’
When the governor signs a death warrant, the inmate is moved to a ‘Death Watch’ cell, which is slightly larger than a Death Row cell, at 12 feet by 7 feet.
While last-minute appeals and requests for a stay of execution make their way through the courts, the inmate has some choices to make.
First, in Florida, inmates can choose between the electric chair and lethal injection as their form of execution.
Pardo chose lethal injection.
Inmates also can see visitors, and Pardo met with eight guests prior to his execution.
‘He’s calm,’ Ann Howard, communications director for the Department of Corrections, said Tuesday afternoon. ‘He’s had visits with family and friends.’
He also met with a prison priest and a bishop.
Inmates are granted a last meal of their choice, as long as it costs less than $40 and can be purchased locally. Pardo’s meal: white rice and red beans, roasted pork chunks and pork chops, fried plantains, avocado and tomato slices with olive oil, eggnog and pumpkin pie. He ate his last meal at 10 a.m. Tuesday.
‘He ate pretty much all of it,’ Howard said.
The execution
Pardo’s execution was scheduled for 6 p.m., Dec. 11.
Victims’ loved ones who wanted to witness the execution, along with any law enforcement and prosecution officials involved, were brought into the prison and sequestered in a cafeteria-like setting. The members of the media likewise were escorted through the barbed-wire barriers and into a different holding area. The witnesses wait in their designated areas with Department of Corrections officials, pending any final court activity that could delay or stop the execution.
Once final word from the U.S. Supreme Court reached Gov. Rick Scott’s office Tuesday night, the witnesses were transported by van to a building at the back of the prison complex. The media witnesses entered the execution chamber at 7:23 p.m.
The actual chamber room is a very brightly lit bare room chilled by a loud air-conditioning unit located high on a wall. The white noise from the air conditioner is about the only noise heard in the small room, which holds four rows of seats.
All front-row seats were occupied for Pardo’s execution. And all heads faced forward, eyes focused on the large, smudge-free glass window covered by a curtain or shade. As the minutes ticked on and as the curtain stayed in the down position, the humming of the air conditioner faded into silence. Some feet tapped nervously. No one spoke.
At 7:30 p.m., the curtain slowly rose and the silence grew louder.
Pardo’s bald head lifted slightly to look at the witnesses. His wrists were strapped down. The white sheet covered the rest of his body.
By the time witnesses could see the inmate, the IV already had been placed. Most could not see the tubing that led to a hole in the wall behind his head, where the chemicals were introduced into the lines.
At 7:31 p.m., Pardo spoke his final words, which were not understood by witnesses and later relayed by Assistant Secretary of Institutions Tim Cannon: ‘Airborne forever. I love you, Michi baby.’ Cannon then announced the execution process would begin.
Pardo closed his eyes. He opened them a few times, but mostly kept them closed.
At 7:33 p.m., Pardo yawned and turned his head slightly to the right. There were no visible twitches, movements or other disturbances. He looked like a man 20 years older than his age who drifted off to sleep after a long day.
A doctor checked Pardo’s pupils and heart, and Cannon announced that the execution had been carried out at 7:47 p.m.
Then the curtain dropped.
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