Sovereign Citizen Lynda Lyon Block Execution | Crime, Last Meal + Final Words | Death Row US Alabama 

They just told me that the state of Alabama wants to put me to death in a most horrible manner. Me, a woman, a mother, a businesswoman, and the only thing that I did is protect my husband. And I said to myself, “What has happened to our judicial system when this can happen to someone    like me?” After spending more than 7 years on death row, Linda Sheryl Lyon Block was executed by electric chair in Alabama.

She was the first woman executed in the state in 45 years, and the last person in America to be executed by electrocution without the option to choose lethal injection instead. But, how did this woman end up on death row in the first place? On October 4th, 1993, 38-year-old Sergeant Roger Lamar Motley, Jr.

, a veteran officer with the Opelika Police Department, was heading to Walmart to pick up supplies for the department. He had worked his way up from patrol to supply sergeant. And this was supposed to be a routine errand, nothing dangerous, nothing unusual. Just like any other day on the job. But, as he entered the parking lot, a woman flagged him down.

She was concerned about a young boy sitting in a parked red Mustang. “The boy looked like he needed help,” she said. She thought the family might be living in their car. Roger didn’t hesitate.    He was a cop through and through, the kind of officer who would lend his bulletproof vest to a rookie, even if it meant going without one himself.

And that’s exactly what he had done earlier that day. So, when he walked up to the Mustang, ready to do his job, he did it with no protection at all. 51-year-old George Sibley was sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting patiently while his wife, 45-year-old Linda Lyon Block, finished a call at the payphone outside the store.

Her 9-year-old son was sitting in the car beside George, watching and waiting. George and Linda weren’t just an ordinary couple on a road trip. They shared a radical anti-government belief system. They considered themselves sovereign citizens, people who believed they didn’t have to follow federal or state laws at all.

They had renounced their US citizenship, destroyed their birth certificates, driver’s licenses, and social security cards, and even published their own political magazine, Liberatus, where they harshly criticized government officials and the system they believed had betrayed them. When Roger walked up to the car and asked George for his driver’s license, George refused.

 “I don’t need one,” he said. Instead of handing anything over, he started launching into his anti-government beliefs, saying he didn’t recognize the authority of the state, and insisting he wasn’t required to carry identification at all. At that point, Roger put his hand on his service revolver. He didn’t draw it. It was simply a standard precaution, something officers are trained to do when a situation starts to feel tense.

But, George saw it as a threat. In an instant, he reached into the car, grabbed a semi-automatic pistol, and opened fire. Roger spun away and tried to take cover behind his patrol car as bullets tore through the air. He returned fire, and one of his shots struck George, wounding him. Roger managed to grab his radio and call it in as a double zero, officer in trouble.

Apple corner double zero, shots fired in the parking lot. Witnesses in the parking lot screamed, dove behind vehicles, and ran back into the store to get away. And across the lot, Linda heard the gunfire. She was still at the payphone when the first shots rang out, but she reacted instantly. She grabbed a gun from her purse and ran toward the sound of gunfire.

As she got closer to the Mustang, she saw Roger crouched behind his patrol car, focused on the threat in front of him. He never saw her coming from behind. Witnesses later said Linda dropped into a crouched position as she ran, then raised her gun and fired without warning. Roger spun toward her, trying to react, but it was already too late.

 She fired again, and this time the bullet struck him in the chest. Without his bulletproof vest, the injury was fatal. Officer Roger Lamar Motley collapsed there in that Walmart parking lot. He was rushed to East Alabama Medical Center, but doctors couldn’t save him. He was pronounced dead shortly after arriving, leaving behind his wife, Juanita, and their four children.

 He had spent years serving as a police officer, and in the end, he died trying to help a child he believed might be in danger. But, this wasn’t some random encounter in a parking lot. It was the violent end of a story that had been building for decades. A story that began long before that day with the woman who pulled the trigger.

Linda Sheryl Lyon was born on February 8th, 1948 in Orlando, Florida, and many say her childhood wasn’t easy. Linda’s relationship with her mother was troubled. She later claimed her mother was physically and mentally abusive, and the two were never close. But, despite her difficult start, Linda grew into an intelligent, independent woman who didn’t follow the crowd.

In high school, she preferred classical music over rock and roll, and favored books over television. And as an adult, she threw herself into community life in Key West. She served as secretary of the Humane Society and worked as an investigator on animal abuse cases. She became president of the Friends of the Library for 2 years, volunteered as publicity director for a mayoral candidate, and helped out as a Cub Scout mom.

She was a volunteer, a leader, even a published magazine editor. On paper, she looked like everything a community could want. But, beneath that polished surface, Linda carried a growing radical streak, one that would eventually take over and destroy her life. In 1983, when Linda was 35, she married Carl Block, an 80-year-old military veteran who had already lived through more loss than most people.

He had lost his only son in a car crash, and he wanted a family again. It was an unusual match, but together, they had a child, a son Carl deeply loved. But, the marriage didn’t last. They divorced in December 1991, and even though Linda kept his last name, the split was bitter. Instead of calming down after the divorce, things only got worse.

By then, Linda had already met George Sibley, the man who would become her common-law husband. And in August 1992, things took a violent turn. Linda and George broke into Carl’s apartment in Orlando. They tied him to a chair, gagged him, and demanded  that he stop trying to claim their house in a custody dispute.

Then, Linda stabbed him once in the chest and walked out, leaving him bound and bleeding. Thankfully, neighbors realized something was wrong. They found Carl before it was too late  and called the police. He survived. And both Linda and George were arrested and charged with aggravated battery on a person over 65 years old.

 They eventually pleaded no contest, and a sentencing hearing was scheduled. But, when the day came, Linda and George never showed up. Instead, they barricaded themselves inside George’s home in Pine Hills, surrounded by weapons and ammunition. They faxed dramatic statements to newspapers and TV stations, warning that they expected the police to storm the house at any moment, and declaring they would rather die than live as slaves.

They were ready for a shootout. But, the raid they were gearing up for never happened. Police chose not to rush the house. Instead, they kept it under quiet surveillance, watching and waiting until eventually, Linda and George slipped away in the night. They loaded their arsenal into Linda’s red Ford Mustang, three handguns, two semi-automatic rifles, and an M-14 rifle.

On the back bumper was a sticker that read, “A woman is a woman without a gun.” And in the car with them was Linda’s 9-year-old son. They headed north, staying with friends in Georgia before deciding to hide out in Mobile, Alabama. They were fugitives now, living in their car, changing locations, and constantly on the run from the law.

And on October 4th, 1993, they pulled into Opelika, Alabama, just to make a phone call. But, that quick stop in a Walmart parking lot is where everything went horribly wrong. After the shootout that left Officer Roger Motley fatally wounded, Linda and George fled the scene. But, they didn’t get far. All of our advisory units are now in front of them now.

Advisory and all surrounding stations and units, be advised they are running in excess of 80 to 90 mph. Police quickly tracked them down, and both were arrested. And after everything was over, Linda’s son was taken into police custody. When their case went to trial, they refused to cooperate.

 They wouldn’t work with their court-appointed attorneys, rejected the court’s authority, and insisted they had acted in self-defense. They even argued that Alabama had no legal right to try them at all, claiming the state had never been properly re-admitted to the Union after the Civil War. In their minds, they weren’t criminals.

They were sovereign citizens. But to the jury and to Roger Motley’s family, the story looked very different. The evidence was overwhelming. Multiple witnesses testified that George fired first and that Linda moved into position and shot Roger while he was taking cover behind his patrol car. No one could say for certain who fired the fatal shot, but it didn’t matter.

Both were convicted of capital murder and both were sentenced to death. Linda entered Alabama’s death row on December 21st, 1994. She was sent to the Julia Tutwiler Prison for women in Wetumpka, where she would spend the next 7 years. During that time, she never backed down from her beliefs.

 She refused to file appeals, insisting the courts were corrupt and had no jurisdiction over her. She gave interviews to writers, talked about her case and life on death row, and stayed convinced, right up to the end, that she was right and the system was wrong. In 2002, Alabama passed a law allowing death row inmates to choose between lethal injection and the electric chair.

But the law didn’t take effect until July 1st. Linda’s execution was scheduled for May 10th, just weeks too early for her to have that choice. And even if she had, people who knew her weren’t sure she would have used it. Linda was not someone who went along with the crowd. She had spent her entire life defying authority and expectations.

She wasn’t about to start compromising now, not even at the very end. On May 9th, 2002, Linda’s final day began. She refused to ask for a special last meal and she chose not to write a final statement. Instead, she spent several hours in her holding cell with three close friends who had come to say goodbye. She also met with her spiritual advisor, Sally Meechum, the only person Linda allowed on her witness list for the execution.

Just before midnight, Linda was led into the execution chamber at Holman Correctional Facility in Atmore, Alabama. She wore a plain white prison uniform. Her head had been shaved so the electrodes could be attached then covered by a black hood. She once said in an interview that she would not go down without a fight.

No, I don’t deserve to die. And I’m going to fight kicking and screaming all the way to the electric chair if they still put me there. They’ll have to drag me. Because I’m going to resist down to the last moment. But now it looks like she was fully compliant. She walked in on her own calmly, showing no visible emotion as she took her place in the chair.

Alabama’s electric chair, nicknamed Yellow Mama, had already been used in 177 executions before. It was a relic from another era, a method many states had already abandoned as too brutal and outdated. But for Linda, there would be no alternative. She would become the last person in America to die in the electric chair without being given a choice of another method.

At 12:01 a.m. on May 10th, 2002, Linda was strapped into the chair. The death warrant was read aloud and she was asked if she had any final words. In true Linda fashion, she kept it short. She answered with a single word, “No.” Then the current was turned on. A powerful 2,050 volts of electricity surged through her body for 20 seconds.

Then 250 volts for 100 seconds. Witnesses reported seeing steam rise from the wet sponge placed under the electrode on her left leg. Linda’s body tensed, her fists clenched. And a reporter wrote that the electricity rammed into her body. Alabama Department of Corrections Commissioner Michael Haley, who witnessed the execution, said Linda showed no emotion to the very end.

“She had a very blank, emotionless stare,” he said. “She displayed no emotion throughout.” At 12:10 a.m., Linda was pronounced dead. Three years later, on Thursday, August 4th, 2005, George Sibley was executed by lethal injection. In the time leading up to his death, he filed a handwritten petition claiming that Linda, not him, had fired the fatal shot that killed Officer Motley.

But legally, it no longer mattered. Both had been convicted of capital murder and both would pay the ultimate price. Like Linda, George refused to special last meal. In fact, he hadn’t eaten at all since Tuesday, 2 days before the execution. But unlike her, he did choose to speak before he died. “Everyone who is doing this to me is guilty of a murder,” he said.

After being strapped to the gurney, he added, “My sister and my niece, I want to express my love and gratitude and gratitude to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.” On the other side of the glass sat Officer Roger Motley’s family. His widow, Juanita, his son, two stepsons, and his mother, Ann Motley, and sister, Betty Ann Foshee, all witnessed the execution.

For his widow, watching George’s sentence carried out marked the end of a 12-year ordeal. “I am ready to just close this chapter of my life and go on. I believe justice was served,” she said. Roger’s mother, Ann, put it more bluntly. “Thank the good Lord I had a son like mine and not like George Sibley.” At the time of their deaths, Linda Sheryl Lyon Block was 54 years old and George Sibley Jr. was 62.

What do you think? Has justice been served? Let us know your thoughts in the comments.