JUST IN: Wendell Grissom Execution + Last Meal and Words Death Row US 

On March 20th, 2025, Wendell was executed by lethal injection after spending nearly two decades on death row. His crimes were as brutal as they were senseless, leaving a trail of devastation. In this video, we’ll uncover what happened that day, his last meal, and his last words. Wendell’s story begins on November 2nd, 2005, when he left Arkansas heading west on Interstate 40 in his white Chevrolet truck.

At the Oklahoma state line, he picked up a hitchhiker, Jesse Johns, a homeless drifter looking for a ride. The two men started talking while sharing sips of whiskey as the miles passed. As the night wore on, their talk turned to money, how to get it fast and easy. Wendell had an idea, robberies, burglaries, whatever it took to get some quick cash.

Jesse listened, and neither one seemed to care about the consequences. By the time they reached Oklahoma City, they had a plan. They checked into a motel, paying for a full week in advance, as if they weren’t just passing through, but preparing for something bigger. The next morning, Wendell wasted no time getting Jesse ready for what was to come. He showed him how to load a .

44 caliber black powder pistol, carefully walking him through each step. But that wasn’t the only weapon in his possession. He also carried a small .22 caliber derringer, tucked away, waiting to be used. As they continued west on Interstate 40, they made a quick stop at a Love’s Country Store. At first glance, their purchases seemed meaningless, just two pairs of brown cotton gloves.

But security cameras captured every detail, and those gloves, bought in a moment of thoughtless preparation, would later become a key piece of evidence linking them to one of the most horrifying crimes in Oklahoma’s history. They drove deep into rural Blaine County, scanning the quiet backroads for a target.

Houses were spread far apart, surrounded by open land, making it easy to strike and even easier to disappear. That’s when Wendell spotted what he was looking for, a secluded home near Hitchcock, Oklahoma, belonging to Matt and Lauren Drew Copp. Without hesitation, he pulled into the driveway and turned to Jesse.

 “Stay in the truck until the shooting is over.” Jesse didn’t argue. Wendell stepped out, moving with purpose toward the back of the house where a sliding glass door led inside. Lauren was spending the morning at home caring for her two young children, 18-month-old Riley and baby Gracie Jo. Her best friend, Amber Matthews, was there, too, chatting with her as the kids played nearby.

They had no idea that danger was already walking up their driveway. When Wendell knocked, it was Amber who answered. He stood there, calm, and asked a simple question. Was Lauren’s husband home? Amber told him no. Wendell nodded as if that was all he needed to know. He told her he’d come back later and turned to walk away.

Amber started to close the door. But before she could, Wendell turned around, lifted his gun, and fired. The glass door exploded, shards raining down as Amber grabbed baby Gracie Jo and tried to run, but Wendell stepped inside, his gun still raised, and fired again, this time hitting Lauren’s hand as she tried to protect herself.

She lunged at Wendell, shoving him onto the couch, pleading for him to take what he wanted and leave. But he just laughed. Then, he reached for his .44 caliber pistol, pressed it to her head, and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her hand before slamming into her skull, but she was still alive.

 Wendell fired again, this time hitting her in the hip, knocking her to the floor. And as she lay there, bleeding out, struggling to breathe, he just laughed. He kept shooting and laughing like it was all a game to him. There was no panic, no sign of regret, just pure cruelty, as if the lives he was taking meant nothing at all. Then, he turned his gun toward Amber and the children, stalking them through the house as Lauren, dizzy and bleeding, could hear Amber begging for her life.

Then, another gunshot. Somehow, Lauren forced herself to move. She was losing blood fast, but her survival instinct kicked in. She managed to stumble toward the garage, dragging herself away from the chaos behind her. She had no idea if Amber or her children were still alive, but she knew one thing, if she stayed, she was dead.

The second she made it outside, she spotted Wendell’s truck still running in the driveway. It was her only chance. Desperate, she ran toward it, but Jesse had already stepped out of the truck, drawn by the sound of gunfire, and he saw her flee. Inside the house, Wendell was still standing over Amber.

 She was still alive, but barely moving. Jesse hesitated for just a second, but Wendell didn’t. He raised his gun and fired another shot, finishing what he had started. Then, Jesse turned to him and said three changed everything. Wendell didn’t waste time. He bolted outside, racing toward his truck just as Lauren reached it.

 He raised his gun and fired, the bullets whizzing past her as she ran for her life. Somehow, she made it to the road. A mile away, barely able to stand, she saw three truckers hauling rock and threw herself into their path, waving them down with what little strength she had left. When they stopped, she looked at them pale, shaking, and covered in blood, and gasped, “My friend and my kids are dead.

” One of the men, a retired police officer, pulled Lauren into his truck, grabbed his phone, and called 911 as he sped toward the nearest hospital, knowing that every second counted. And just like that, Wendell and Jesse’s escape plan fell apart almost immediately. Desperate to get away, they stole a red four-wheeler from the garage and sped off, kicking up dust as they tore down the road.

 A dog chased after them, barking wildly as if trying to stop them from getting away. But they weren’t as invisible as they thought. A postal worker and the truckers who had just helped Lauren saw them fleeing. Worse, their stolen ride wouldn’t take them far. The four-wheeler ran out of gas before they even made it out of the area. Stranded, they ditched it on the side of the road and stuck out their thumbs, hoping for a way out.

 A passing farmer stopped to pick them up, unknowingly giving a ride to two killers. They told him they needed to get to Kingfisher County, so he dropped them off at a small roadside diner, the Hilltop Cafe. By then, police had already swarmed the Copp residence. Officers moved carefully through the house, bracing for the worst.

 They had no idea what they were about to find. But in the bedroom, they found something no one expected. 18-month-old Riley and baby Gracie were still alive. Amber, barely breathing, was rushed to an Oklahoma City hospital, but she sadly didn’t survive the flight. Meanwhile, at the Hilltop Cafe, Wendell and Jesse were acting suspiciously, pacing near the building, peering into windows and parked cars, looking for a way out.

The clerks noticed them immediately, two men, jittery and restless, watching every car that pulled in. Then, without warning, Jesse disappeared into the trees behind the cafe. That was enough for the clerks. They picked up the phone and called the sheriff’s office. Deputies were already searching for the two suspects, and it didn’t take long before a patrol car spotted Jesse walking along the road.

 He was taken into custody without a fight. But Wendell had vanished. Officers began searching the area, sweeping through fields and brush, but he hadn’t gone far. A short time later, they found him hiding in a rock pile near the cafe. His .22 pistol and gloves were covered in blood, the evidence of what he had just done still fresh. The .

44 caliber pistol, the weapon he had used to shoot Lauren and Amber, had been tossed near the crime scene, but it wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Within hours, police had it in their hands. The manhunt was over. Wendell and Jesse were in custody, and the countdown to justice had begun. Wendell’s trial began in 2006, and it didn’t take long for the jury to reach a decision.

Witness testimonies, forensic evidence, and the brutality of the attack left no room for doubt. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. But the legal battle wasn’t over yet. On February 25th, 2008, Wendell went to trial again, and this time his lawyers focused on one last effort to spare him from execution, arguing that he should spend the rest of his life in prison instead.

But the jury didn’t buy it. They found him guilty on all charges, and for murder, they handed down the ultimate sentence, death. But Wendell wasn’t done fighting. Over the next 19 years, he filed appeal after appeal, claiming his trial had been unfair, that lethal injection was cruel and inhumane, and that his constitutional rights had been violated.

He challenged the court system at every turn, but each appeal was rejected, one after another. By 2025, there was nothing left to argue. Every legal option had been exhausted, and the state moved forward with its final decision. His execution was set for March 20th, 2025. His final meal consisted of a Canadian bacon supreme pizza, a pint of vanilla ice cream, and a pint of Coca-Cola.

In his final statement, he asked for forgiveness from the family of the woman he murdered. I apologize to all of you that I’ve hurt. At 10:13 a.m., Wendell was pronounced dead. He was 56 years old.