The only woman on Tennesseee’s death row is arguing the state is not equipped to carry out her execution. Christale Pike’s legal team filed a motion claiming a medical condition should keep her from being put to death. Pike’s attorneys say she suffers from a unique medical condition that would result in a torturous death which violates the state’s constitution.

 I did something horrible that is unacceptable and I realize that but I don’t deserve to die for the actions of three individuals. >> September 30th, 2026, Nashville, Tennessee. Inside Riverbend Maximum Security Institution, a woman lies strapped to a gurnie. In her veins, pentobarbital, a single drug meant to stop her heart within minutes.

 She is 50 years old. She has spent more than half her life in a cell the size of a parking space waiting for this exact night to arrive. If this execution goes forward, she will become the first woman executed in the state of Tennessee since 1819, over 200 years ago. She will also be the only person executed in Tennessee for a crime committed at 18, 19, or 20 years old in the entire modern death penalty era across the whole United States.

 In the last 50 years, only 18 women have been executed. Tonight, she could become the 19th. But here’s what makes this stranger. 3 months before this date, her own lawyers are still in court, arguing that the drug about to enter her body could cause her to drown in her own blood.

 So, who is she? What did she do 30 years ago that put her on this journey? And why has it taken Tennessee three decades to get here? Welcome to her final chapter. I’m your host and in today’s case, we’re covering the story of Christale Pike. Before we go any further, make sure you’re subscribed and drop a comment letting us know where in the world you’re watching from tonight.

Now, let’s get into it. To understand how we got here, we have to go back 30 years to a jobs program in Knoxville, Tennessee. Knoxville, Tennessee, 1995. Before this became a story about execution chambers and Supreme Court filings, it was a story about two young women who came to Knoxville looking for the same thing, a second chance.

 The Knoxville Job Core Center sat on Dale Avenue, one of thousands of federal training programs built to give teenagers and young adults a path forward when other doors had closed. It was designed as a place for troubled adolescents to learn a trade and turn their lives around. But the reality inside the cent’s walls was more volatile than its mission statement suggested. Fights were common.

 Gang activity existed among some of the residents. It wasn’t unusual for students to carry razor blades or box cutters, not to hurt anyone, but simply to protect themselves. This wasn’t the first time trouble at the job center had spilled onto the neighboring University of Tennessee campus either. Two years earlier, in December of 1993, two JobCore residents were convicted of attacking two university students parked at the edge of campus, beating one and abducting the other before assaulting her. It was a warning sign if anyone had

been looking for one, that the boundary between the JobCore program and the university next door wasn’t always a safe one to cross. Colleen Slurmer arrived at JobCore in 1994, one of thousands of young people hoping the program could be a stepping stone rather than a dead end. Born September 20th, 1975 in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, Colleen had been raised by her mother, May Martinez, and her stepfather in a home her family describes as loving and supportive.

 She dreamed of going to college, but money was tight, and JobCore offered a practical alternative. She enrolled to train in computer programming hoping to build a career for herself. She was 19 years old and by every account well-liked among her peers. Christa Gail Pike had a very different road to Knoxville. Born March 10th, 1976, Christa arrived at the job core center at 18, hoping to train as a nurse.

 Almost immediately, she began a relationship with another student, 17-year-old Tadel Ship. The two became inseparable and shared more than just a romance. Both were drawn to an interest in Satanism, something that would later surface in the physical evidence police collected. Pentagram necklaces the couple wore and eventually a satanic Bible and altar found in ship’s room.

Colleen and Christa knew each other through the program. And at some point in late 1994, something shifted between them. Christa became convinced that Colleen was pursuing Tadel, that she was trying to take him from her. People close to Colleen would later insist this wasn’t true, that she had no romantic interest in Tadel at all.

 But belief doesn’t need to be accurate to become dangerous. And in Christ’s mind, a decision had already been made. On January 11th, 1995, Christa told a fellow student, a young woman named Kim Iloilo, exactly what she was planning to do. She said she intended to kill Colleen Slmer. Kim didn’t stop her. Maybe she didn’t believe it.

 Maybe at a place like this, threats like that had simply become background noise. The next night, January 12th, 1995, at around 8:00 in the evening, four students signed out of the job core dormatory together. Christa Pike, Tadel Ship, Colleen SLMur, and another student, 18-year-old Shadala Peterson. On paper, it looked like nothing more than four young people leaving the building for the evening.

 They walked away from the center toward an isolated, long abandoned steam plant tucked into the woods near the University of Tennessee’s agricultural campus, the same general area where that earlier attack had taken place 2 years before. It was a place students sometimes went to get away from the structure and supervision of the dormitories.

 Colleen went along with them. There’s no indication she suspected anything was wrong. What happened next in that wooded forgotten corner of the campus would take Colleen Slmer’s life. Christa and Tadro carried out the attack. Shidala stood watch. The assault stretched on for the better part of an hour. By the time it was over, Colleen was gone.

 And three of the four people who walked into those woods that night would walk back out again, carrying a secret that wouldn’t stay hidden for long. The next morning, January 13th, 1995, a University of Tennessee grounds department employee was making his rounds near the agricultural campus when something in the brush caught his eye.

 At first glance, from a distance, he thought it might be an animal. It wasn’t. It was Colleen Slmer. Investigators arrived to a scene that told them immediately this had not been quick and it had not been random. Knox County Medical Examiner Dr. Sandra Elkins was called in to perform the autopsy.

 What she documented that day would later become central to the case the state built in court. Evidence of a sustained prolonged attack in a location the victim clearly hadn’t chosen to be in. Word travels fast in a place like JobCore. Investigators didn’t have to look far. Students had already noticed that four residents signed out together the night before and only three had come back.

 That detail alone was enough to focus the investigation almost immediately on Christa Pike, Tadel Ship, and Shadala Peterson. But it was what Christa herself had done in the hours after the murder that sealed the case before police had even finished processing the crime scene. That same night, she went to a fellow student, Kim Ilo, and told her plainly that she had just killed Colleen Slmer.

 She didn’t stop there. She produced something she’d carried back with her from the woods, a fragment of Colleen’s skull, which she described as a souvenir. She repeated the same story and showed the same object to at least one other student at the center. A young man identified in court records only by the surname Wilson.

 Word of what Christa had been showing people spread through the dormitories almost as quickly as the search for Colleen had. By the time detectives came knocking, they weren’t working from suspicion. They were working from a trail of witnesses who had already heard Christa describe the killing in her own words days before investigators ever sat her down for formal questioning.

 All three students were taken into custody within 36 hours of Colleen’s body being found. When Christa was first asked directly whether she’d taken any part of Colleen’s remains, she denied it. That denial didn’t hold. A piece of skull was later found hidden in the pocket of her own jacket. Investigators also recovered a pair of jeans from her dormatory room stained with blood and mud along with a pair of black gloves and two of Colleen’s identification cards found discarded at a Texico station on Cumberland Avenue. Officers Mark Wagner

and Lanni Janeway were among those who helped piece together the group’s movements before and after the attack, mapping the physical evidence against the timeline investigators had already built from witness statements. Under questioning, Shadala Peterson made her decision quickly. She agreed to cooperate with investigators, becoming a witness for the prosecution rather than facing the same charges as Christa and Tadel.

 When police told Christa that Shadala had turned informant, something in her calculation shifted. She stopped denying what she’d done and confessed, walking detectives through the attack in her own words, a statement that would later be played in full for the jury at trial. On January 14th, 1995, two days after Colleen’s murder, Christa Pike and Tadel Ship were photographed at the Knoxville Police Department.

 In those photographs, both of them were still wearing the Pentagram [clears throat] necklaces they’d had on the night of the killing. The investigation that had begun with a groundskeeper’s discovery in the brush was within 48 hours essentially closed. A confession, physical evidence, and a chain of witnesses had already built the outline of the case.

 What remained now was for the state of Tennessee to decide what would happen to the three teenagers responsible and just how far the consequences would go. More than a year after Colleen Surmer’s murder, the case finally reached a courtroom. In March of 1996, Christa Pike stood trial at the Knox County Criminal Court in Knoxville, Tennessee, facing charges of firstdegree murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

By this point, the outcome was already leaning heavily in one direction. Prosecutors had Christa’s own confession. They had the physical evidence recovered from her jacket, her jeans, and the Texico station on Cumberland Avenue. They had witnesses who could testify that she described the killing in detail before police ever approached her.

 With so little room to dispute what had actually happened, Christa’s defense shifted toward a different question entirely. not whether she had done it, but why. Her attorneys called two defense experts to testify. Both told the jury that Christa suffered from borderline personality disorder, and both argued that this condition was the reason the attack escalated the way it did.

 According to this defense, what started as an attempt to scare or confront Colleen spiraled out of Christ’s control once the violence began, and she was no longer capable of stopping herself. It was a difficult argument to make in a case this violent and an even harder one to make convincingly in the span of just a few hours of trial testimony.

 The jury didn’t take long to decide. On March 22nd, 1996, after only a few hours of deliberation, Chris Pike was found guilty on both counts. A week later, on March 29th and 30th, 1996, the court handed down its sentence. For the murder charge, Christa Pike was sentenced to death by electrocution. For the conspiracy charge, she received an additional 25 years.

 Witnesses in the courtroom that day described a young woman who, despite everything the evidence had shown, still looked like exactly what she was, a teenager. Her face still marked by adolescent acne. Christa reportedly sobbed uncontrollably as the sentence was read, calling out for her mother. At 20 years old, she had just become the youngest woman sentenced to death in the United States since the death penalty was reinstated in 1972.

But Christa wasn’t the only person who had walked into those woods that night. And what happened to the other two people involved is where this case starts to raise questions that go far beyond one courtroom in Knoxville. Tatel’s ship, Christa’s boyfriend, had taken part in the same attack. He had helped carry it out.

 But Tadel had one thing working in his favor that Christa didn’t. At the time of the murder, he was 17 years old, a minor under Tennessee law. That single fact meant the death penalty was never legally on the table for him, no matter what the evidence showed. His trial came a year later in January of 1997. And like Christa, he was found guilty on both counts.

 When it came time to decide his sentence, the jury deliberated over whether he deserved life in prison without the possibility of parole. They couldn’t reach a unanimous decision. Because of that deadlock, the judge sentenced him instead to life with the possibility of parole, adding a consecutive 25-year sentence for the conspiracy conviction, a term designed to ensure he wouldn’t become eligible for parole until he was well into his late 40s or early 50s.

 Still, life with a chance at freedom is not the same as death. It never could be. Then there was Shadala Peterson, who had stood watch while the attack took place. Because she agreed to cooperate with prosecutors and became a witness against Christa and Tadel, Peterson was allowed to plead guilty to a far lesser charge, being an accessory after the fact.

 Her punishment was probation. No prison time, no death sentence, no decades spent waiting on death row. Three people walked into those woods on January 12th, 1995. One of them is scheduled to be executed. One of them is still alive, serving a life sentence with a real chance at parole. And one of them walked away with probation and simply got to move on with her life.

 Same night, same victim, same crime. Three completely different outcomes. So, here’s the question worth sitting with before we go any further. Was justice actually served here, or did it come down in the end to something as simple as which side of 18 you happen to be standing on the night it mattered most? A death sentence in Tennessee doesn’t mean an execution happens quickly.

 For Christ, it meant close to three decades of waiting inside the walls of the Tennessee prison for women in Nashville in a cell her own attorneys would later describe as roughly the size of a parking space. For most of those years, Christa held a grim distinction. She wasn’t just on death row. She was the only woman on death row in the entire state of Tennessee.

 While other prisoners lived alongside people serving similar sentences, Christa lived largely apart from anyone else, isolated for 22 to 24 hours a day, year after year, with almost no one else who understood what that kind of confinement actually does to a person. It didn’t take long for that environment to produce more violence.

 On August 24th, 2001, Christa attacked a fellow inmate, a woman named Patricia Jones, strangling her with a shoestring and coming close to choking her to death. Jones was no stranger to violence herself. She was serving a life sentence for the 1994 murder of an 84year-old woman named Alberta Coker in Knoxville.

 According to court records, Christa and Jones had an ongoing feud inside the prison. Christa accused Jones of snitching, of crossing her one too many times. In phone calls recorded by the prison, Christa was heard bragging to her own mother about the attack and warning that she’d do it again if she got the chance. Investigators also looked at another inmate, Natasha Cornet, for possible involvement in the assault, but ultimately concluded there wasn’t enough evidence to charge her alongside Christa.

 It took 3 years for the case to make its way through the courts. Christa was convicted of attempted first-degree murder for the attack on August 12th, 2004, 8 years after she’d already been sentenced to die for killing Colleen Slmer. Whatever argument her original defense had made about who she was at 18, this was proof that the person capable of extreme violence hadn’t simply disappeared the moment she walked into a cell.

 And yet, in the years immediately following her original sentencing, Christa had tried to do something almost the opposite of fighting for her life. Beginning in June of 2001 and again in June of 2002, she went against her own attorney’s advice and asked the courts to drop her appeals entirely, saying she wanted to be executed by electrocution rather than continue fighting her case.

 A judge, Mary Beth Lieovitz, actually granted her request. An execution date was set, August 19th, 2002. But Christa changed her mind. On July 8th, 2002, her defense lawyers filed a motion asking to resume the appeals process. That motion was denied. It was only because a three judge state appeals court panel intervened, ruling on August 2nd, 2002 that the case should continue, that the execution didn’t go forward as scheduled.

 Christa Pike came within weeks of being executed over 20 years before her current date was ever set. And for reasons that had nothing to do with new evidence or a change in the law, it came down to her own shifting resolve, caught by a court just in time. Her case continued grinding through the legal system for years after that.

 In 2014, her attorneys attempted to have her sentence commuted to life in prison, arguing she’d received ineffective assistance from her original trial council and that executing her would be unconstitutional given her psychiatric diagnosis. That effort didn’t succeed. By December of 2008, one of her most significant appeals for a new trial had already been denied outright, and Christa was returned to death row with no execution date yet attached to her name.

 The years without a scheduled execution date weren’t quiet either. In 2012, Christa was implicated in an actual escape plot. She recruited a corrections officer, 22-year-old Justin Heftlin, along with a pen pal from New Jersey, 34year-old Donald Cout, in a scheme that reportedly involved copying a prison key. Tennessee Bureau of Investigation agents were tipped off before the plan could be carried out.

And both men were arrested and charged with bribery, conspiracy, and facilitating an escape. That limbo of appeals and setbacks produced occasional cracks of hope for her legal team, too. In 2019, Sixth Circuit Judge Jane Stranch wrote a concurring opinion in one of Christa’s appeals, arguing that because she was only 18 at the time of the murder, her death sentence likely violated the ETH amendment’s protection against cruel and unusual punishment.

Judge Stranch pointed out something almost impossible to ignore. Had Chris been 17 instead of 18, like her codefendant, Tadel Ship, she wouldn’t have been eligible for the death penalty at all. Her fate had come down to a matter of months. Still, a concurrence isn’t a majority ruling, and it didn’t change her sentence.

 Tennessee did in fact schedule an execution date for Christa once before this current one. She was set to be executed on August 27th, 2020, but that date was delayed because of the CO 19 pandemic, and for years afterward, no new date was announced. Her legal team tried one more direct challenge to her sentence in August of 2023, filing a motion that cited a recent Tennessee Supreme Court ruling, State versus Booker, which had found mandatory life sentences for juveniles convicted of homicide unconstitutional.

Christa’s attorneys argued the same reasoning about youth trauma and diminished culpability should apply to her case and used it to ask the courts to reopen her postconviction proceedings. A Knox County judge dismissed that motion in the final days of October 2023, and her death sentence stood.

 Not every legal fight during these years was about the death penalty itself. In 2022, her legal team filed a separate lawsuit challenging the conditions of her isolation, arguing that decades of near total solitary confinement amounted to cruel and unusual punishment on its own, independent of her sentence. In September of 2024, that lawsuit ended in a settlement.

 Christa was granted conditions closer to those of the men on death row. More time outside her cell, the ability to hold a prison job, and the chance to share meals with other incarcerated women with the possibility of earning further privileges through good behavior. And through nearly all of it, one detail from the very night of the murder has never been resolved.

Colleen SLMur’s mother, May Martinez, has spent years asking the state of Tennessee to return the fragment of her daughter’s skull, still held by the state as evidence, so she can finally give her daughter a complete burial. Tennessee has refused, telling her the case cannot be closed, and the evidence cannot be released until Christ’s execution is carried out.

 Nearly 30 years after Colleen died in those woods, her mother is still waiting to bury all of her. 4 years. Christa Pike’s case existed without a deadline. That changed on September 30th, 2025 when the Tennessee Supreme Court issued a formal death warrant ordering that her execution take place exactly one year later on September 30th, 2026.

 The court’s own order was direct. The warden of Riverbend Maximum Security Institution or his designate would carry out the sentence of death as provided by law unless the court itself intervened. For the first time in Christa’s adult life, there was an actual date on the calendar.

 It’s worth understanding where that date will actually be carried out. Christa is currently held at the Tennessee Prison for Women in Nashville, but when the time comes, she won’t be executed there. Tennessee carries out every execution regardless of the inmate’s gender at Riverbend Maximum Security Institution, an allmale facility.

 If her execution proceeds as scheduled, Christa will be transported to a men’s prison to become the first woman executed in the state of Tennessee since 1819 or 1820 and the only person executed in Tennessee for a crime committed at 18, 19, or 20 years old in the entire modern death penalty era. For context on just how rare this is, the last woman executed anywhere in the United States was Amber McGlaughlin, put to death by lethal injection in Missouri in January of 2023.

 If Tennessee follows through in September, Christa Pike would become only the second woman executed in this country in the past several years and one of a very small handful of women executed since the death penalty was reinstated nationwide in the 1970s. The method itself has its own complicated history.

 Tennessee’s current lethal injection protocol, relying on a single drug, pentobarbatital, only exists because of a previous failure. In 2022, Governor Bill Lee ordered a sweeping multi-year review of the state’s execution procedures after officials acknowledged what they described only as an oversight in preparation for lethal injection in an earlier case.

 That review dragged on for 2 years. The new single drug protocol didn’t officially take effect until December of 2024, less than a year before Christ’s execution date was set. Almost as soon as the date was official, her legal team went to work challenging the method itself. On January 8th, 2026, attorneys Steven Ferrell and Luke Inan of the Federal Defender Services of Eastern Tennessee filed a lawsuit in Davidson County Chancery Court arguing that this new protocol would violate Christa’s constitutional rights given her specific

medical conditions. According to the filing, Christa suffers from thrombocytoenia, a blood clotting disorder, alongside bipolar disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, and notably difficult venus access, meaning her veins are hard to locate and access for an injection. Her attorneys argued that combining pentobarbatital with her blood condition could cause pulmonary edema, a buildup of fluid in the lungs, which they described as creating a real risk that Christa would essentially drown in her own blood during the execution itself.

As an alternative, rather than simply objecting, her lawsuit proposed a specific fix, administering the drug through a butterfly needle inserted by trained medical professionals to reduce the risk of a botched procedure. The lawsuit didn’t stop at medical grounds. It also raised a religious liberty argument.

 Christa is a practicing Buddhist and Tennessee’s protocol includes a mandatory 12-hour blackout period before execution during which contact with anyone, including a spiritual adviser, is cut off unless that adviser qualifies as approved clergy under the state’s rules. Her attorneys argued that this exclusion of her Buddhist spiritual adviser violates her First Amendment right to practice her sincerely held religious beliefs, particularly since several male death row inmates executed in years prior had been granted exceptions to keep contact

with their own spiritual advisers during that same window. In May of 2026, the case took a procedural turn. Chancellor Aayashia Miles ordered Christa’s lawsuit transferred out of Chancery Court and directly into the Tennessee Supreme Court. That transfer wasn’t arbitrary. It followed directly from an earlier case involving another death row inmate, Byron Black.

 In that case, a different chancellor, Russell T. Perkins, had granted a temporary injunction altering Black’s execution method based on his own legal challenge. The Tennessee Supreme Court reversed him, ruling that he had exceeded his authority by modifying the terms of the High Court’s own execution order. In the wake of that reversal, the rules changed.

 Any legal challenge relating to the method or timing of an execution now had to go straight to the state’s highest court, skipping the lower courts entirely. That new rule is what pulled Christa’s case upward. Then on June 12th, 2026, her attorneys filed again, this time asking the Tennessee Supreme Court to appoint a special master, an independent investigator, to examine exactly how the lethal injection protocol would function given Christ’s specific conditions.

 This motion came directly on the heels of another Tennessee execution going badly wrong. the botched execution of death row inmate Tony Kurthers which had already prompted the governor to postpone Kurther’s own execution by a full year. In the filing, attorney Luke Inan didn’t mince words, writing plainly that the state of Tennessee is not able to constitutionally carry out executions and pointing to Kurther’s case as proof that the Tennessee Department of Correction lacks the qualified, trained medical personnel needed to prevent

unnecessary suffering during an execution. Christa’s legal team isn’t arguing in a vacuum either. They’ve pointed to two other Tennessee cases involving inmates Terry King and Donald Middbrooks in which courts granted stays of execution specifically so those men could challenge the same lethal injection protocol Christa is now contesting.

 Her attorneys argue she deserves the same opportunity under the same legal reasoning rather than being pushed through to execution while those precedents remain unresolved. While all of this has played out in the Tennessee Supreme Court, Christa’s codefendant has been fighting a much smaller, quieter battle of his own.

 Tadro Ship had his first parole hearing on October 8th, 2025 at the Northwest Correctional Complex in Typtonville, Tennessee. A parole board member cited the seriousness of Colleen Smer’s murder and voted to deny his release. On October 20th, 2025, the full board made it official. parole denied with his case scheduled for review again in October of 2030.

 Look at the two of them side by side. Christa Pike has an execution date, a legal team fighting in the state’s highest court, and medical experts arguing over how she’ll die. Tatal ship has a parole date circled 5 years out, and a real, if uncertain, chance of eventually walking free. Both of them stood in those woods on the same night in January of 1995.

Only one of them is running out of time. So where does this all actually stand 3 months out from the date currently on the calendar? Colleen SLMur’s mother, May Martinez, has never wavered in what she wants, even if she’s been honest about what it will and won’t give her. In a 2025 interview, she said plainly that there’s nothing that can really bring her peace and nothing that will feel like justice has truly been served.

And yet, she still wants the execution to proceed. She has said she intends to be there when it happens. For 30 years, she has carried the weight of her daughter’s murder. And for 30 years, she has waited for this exact outcome, even knowing it won’t undo any of it. On the other side, a growing number of people disagree, and they’ve built real infrastructure around that disagreement.

The advocacy group Tennessans for an alternative to the death penalty has collected more than 2500 signatures on a petition asking Governor Bill Lee to intervene and commute her sentence. Separately, Christa’s legal team has gone beyond Tennessee’s courts entirely, filing a petition with the Interamerican Commission on Human Rights, asking an international body to weigh in on the merits of her case.

 Their argument isn’t that what happened in those woods in 1995 doesn’t matter. is that a life sentence, not a death sentence, is the more proportionate outcome, especially set against what happened to Tadel Ship for the exact same crime. There’s precedent in Tennessee for exactly this kind of reversal, too. Christa isn’t the first woman in the state to face a scheduled execution in the modern era.

 A woman named Gail Owens once stood in nearly the same position until Governor Phil Bredesen commuted her sentence in 2010, sparing her life before an execution date arrived. It’s a reminder that a scheduled execution in Tennessee has at least once before ended in mercy rather than in the outcome the state originally intended.

 And the risk her attorneys have been raising isn’t hypothetical either. On May 21st, 2026, Tennessee attempted to execute a different death row inmate, Tony Kurthers. The execution team spent more than an hour trying and failing to establish the required introvenous lines. They managed to get one line in, but couldn’t get the second backup line the state’s own protocol requires.

Governor Bill Lee ultimately granted Kurthers a one-year reprieve. It’s the exact scenario Christa’s attorneys have been warning about for months, playing out in real time, less than 3 months before her own execution date. Christa herself has tried in her own words to account for what she did. In a letter written from prison, she described herself plainly, a mentally ill 18-year-old kid.

 She wrote that it took her years to even begin to grasp the full weight of what she’d done and longer still to understand how many lives she’d affected. She put it simply, she took the life of someone’s child, someone’s sister, someone’s friend. None of that changes what’s still unresolved. Right now, as this video goes up, Chris Pike’s legal team is still in front of the Tennessee Supreme Court, still arguing over whether the state can even carry out this execution constitutionally, only weeks after watching another execution fail in

exactly the way they predicted. Nothing here is settled. Not the method, not the date, not really the question of whether any of this ends the way Tennessee currently says it will. So, here’s where I’ll leave you. One teenager on that January night in 1995 is scheduled to die.

 Another teenager from the exact same crime scene has a parole date already circled 5 years from now. Where do you land on that? If you want to see how this actually ends, subscribe right now because I’ll be covering this execution date live as it develops, whichever way it goes. And if cases like this are the ones that keep you watching, we also cover death row cases just like this one in far more depth over on the last sentence.

 Go check it out after this.