Victor Tony Jones Executed in Florida — His Crime, Final Meal & Last Words Revealed

After spending more than 32 years on death row, Victor Tony Jones was executed by lethal injection at Florida State Prison. In this video, we’ll uncover what happened, his last meal, and his last words. But to understand what happened, we need to go back to December 19th, 1990. Around 10:00 a.m.

, Irene Fisher picked up the phone like she did every morning. She called her parents, 67-year-old Jacob Nester and his wife, 66-year-old Matilda. They sounded fine, happy even. Just a cheerful chat between a daughter and her parents. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And when they hung up, >> [music] >> Irene’s mom called right back just to keep talking.

They slipped right into girl talk, light and easy, before saying goodbye again. It felt ordinary, routine. But that was the last time Irene would ever hear their voices. Not long after, two more calls were logged from the Nesters’ office line to Irene’s number in Baldwin, New York. And the last call from their line came at 11:21 a.m.

 to a tooling company in Kansas City. Then the line went silent. Around noon, a UPS driver pulled into the lot of their shop like he did almost every day. Both of the Nesters’ cars were parked out front, so he expected someone to be inside. But when he rang the bell, no one answered. He knocked again, calling out, “UPS, I’ve got a delivery.

” But still, nothing. He then crouched and peered through the mail slot. And what he saw didn’t make sense. Inside, the normally tidy office looked as if a storm had torn through it. Papers were scattered, chairs were pushed around. And then he noticed something else. Blood. Spooked, he ran downstairs to find Ernesto Sorondo, the neighbor who ran the auto repair shop next door.

Ernesto knew the couple well. He saw who came and went every day, and he remembered their new employee, too. A young man named Victor Jones had just started working for Jacob the day before. That morning, Ernesto had seen Dolly leave in her Volvo around 9:30 and return half an hour later. After that, he saw nothing unusual until the UPS driver came looking for help.

Together, they walked back upstairs and looked again through the narrow mail slot. This time, Ernesto saw it, too. Blood on the floor, smeared across the desk, even splattered on the telephone. He didn’t hesitate and immediately called the police. Officer David Magnuson of the Miami PD was the first to arrive.

 The building was locked up tight with doors locked and windows barred. He crouched and looked through the same slot and spotted what looked like a human foot lying still on the floor. Firefighters forced the heavy front door open and paramedics rushed inside. But what they walked into wasn’t just a crime scene, it was a bloodbath.

Jack lay motionless on the floor in the main office. He had been stabbed in the chest. And a few feet away in the bathroom, officers found Dolly. She was face down near a shattered towel rack, her body limp and bloodied. She had been stabbed high in the back between the shoulder blades, the blade cutting through her aorta.

She fell forward with such force that she hit her head as she collapsed, and blood streaked the wall behind her. Neither of them had a pulse, but they weren’t alone. There was someone else in that room, someone who was still alive. Slumped on the couch in the corner of the office was 29-year-old Victor. A leather jacket had been pulled over his chest like a makeshift cover.

Officers immediately spotted the blood on his sneakers and pants and just under his arm, they saw it, the handle of a pistol. All three officers raised their weapons and shouted. For a second, Victor didn’t move. Then slowly, deliberately, he raised his hands and surrendered. They took the gun from beneath his arm and when they checked it, it appeared to be cocked, loaded and ready to fire.

Around him, the room was chaos. The furniture was overturned and blood pooled across the floor. Jack lay just a few feet away, his shirt soaked, his body already stiffening. But the heavy gash above his eye showed he had clearly fought back. After Dolly’s collapse, he had faced his attacker head-on. The knife pierced his chest, but even as he bled, Jack pulled it out himself, reached for the phone and stumbled for his gun, the same one police would later find under Victor’s arm.

Jack managed to fire five rounds, one even grazed Victor’s forehead, but it wasn’t enough. He fell right there, collapsing in a pool of his own blood. Victor never left the building. With the doors locked and no way out, he just sat on the couch and waited. When officers searched him, they found both Jack and Dolly’s wallets in his back pockets.

Her purse, keys and coin pouch were tucked into his clothes. The blood on his shoes matched Jack’s DNA. And when they checked the bathroom wall, they found Victor’s fingerprints above Dolly’s body, showing that he had leaned there as she lay dying. At first, it wasn’t clear he had been shot, but after the police cuffed him, Victor complained of a headache.

An officer noticed the bleeding wound on his forehead and asked what happened. Victor answered coldly, “The old man shot me.” Paramedics rushed him to the hospital and once he was stable enough to speak, he said something no one expected. In the ICU, he looked at a nurse and told her he needed to leave. When she asked why, he didn’t hesitate.

“Because I killed those people,” he said. And when she asked why he did it, his answer cut like ice. “They owed me money, and I had to kill them.” But how did it come to this? Why would a young man, just one day into his new job, turn on the very people who hired him? Investigators quickly started digging into who Victor Jones really was, and what they found was a boy already broken long before the crime.

From the beginning, his life was unstable. His mother drank heavily during the pregnancy and after he was born, and by the time he was a boy, he and his siblings were scattered across relatives’ homes. Victor and his sister Pamela ended up in Miami, living with their aunt Laura Ling. But he never settled.

 He ran away more than once, and at just 11 years old, he stowed away on an airplane bound for New York, hoping to find his mother again. She was still drinking, but he stayed with her anyway. For a while. By 13, Victor was back in Miami and already [music] in serious trouble. He overdosed and ended up in the ICU, and by eighth grade, drugs and chaos had taken over.

 His grades collapsed, and by 16, he dropped out of school for good. The next few years, he ping-ponged through juvenile detention centers, bouncing from one state-run facility to the next. In 1978, when he was finally released, Victor tried to go straight. He picked up work as a waiter in Miami, but that didn’t last.

 Restlessness set in, and soon he was on the road again, hitchhiking to Texas, selling drugs to get by, and picking up odd jobs in between. He drifted to San Francisco for a while living off petty robberies, then circled back to Miami before heading to Atlanta, where he spent a few years working clubs and restaurants as a bouncer. He had girlfriends during that time and even lived with a woman he described as his common-law wife.

But it was always the same story, short-lived jobs, quick cash, and no roots. In 1986, Victor returned to Miami once again. He was cutting lawns during the day and dealt drugs during the night. Then, on December 12th, 1989, just a year before the murders, he pulled off a bold armed robbery at the Debbie School, a facility for hearing-impaired children on the campus of Jackson Memorial Hospital.

Wearing a fake security guard uniform and carrying a gym bag, Victor walked inside like he belonged there. He forced his way into the school office and snatched the purse of secretary Janet Heron. But before he could get out, two other women, Barbara Lewis and Nanette Martin, saw what was happening and intervened.

They grabbed the bag from him and found a large knife hidden inside. Victor didn’t back off, though. He just ran into another room, grabbed another teacher’s purse, and sprinted out the door while the women chased after him screaming for help. Outside, a security guard named Doug Tyrell heard the commotion.

 He didn’t have a weapon, but he stepped in anyway. Victor punched him in the jaw, hard, but Doug didn’t back down. He fought back and managed to pin Victor to the ground until the police arrived. Victor was arrested and later convicted of robbery and burglary with assault. He was sentenced to 4 years in prison, but didn’t serve all of it.

He was released on November 27th, 1990, barely a year after the robbery, and back in the community just 3 days later. But nobody knew that the decision to release him early would end up costing two people their lives less than 3 weeks later. Victor’s trial began in 1992. He was charged with two counts of first-degree murder and two counts of armed robbery.

 And it didn’t take long for the jury to convict him on all charges. During sentencing, the state pushed for death. They listed multiple aggravating factors. Victor had been under a sentence of imprisonment at the time. He already had a prior violent felony. The murders happened during a robbery, and he had killed for financial gain.

His defense tried to save his life by pointing to his past. They told the jury Victor had been abandoned by his mother at a young age, and that he suffered from lifelong emotional and mental instability. Over the years, Victor’s IQ was tested multiple times. His scores fell between 67 and 75, low enough for some experts to argue he had intellectual disabilities, but not low enough for others to agree.

A neuropsychologist named Dr. Eisenstein claimed Victor had struggled since childhood. He pointed to poor communication skills, difficulty learning, social isolation, lack of life skills, and neglect of his own health. In Eisenstein’s view, Victor’s history and IQ met the criteria for mental retardation. But not everyone saw it that way.

Lisa Wylie, a psychological specialist with the Department of Corrections, worked with Victor for over a decade. She said he was always neat, respectful, and coherent on death row. He filed written grievances, asked for maintenance repairs when needed, and handled problems like anyone else would. In her opinion, Victor wasn’t intellectually disabled at all.

 He fully understood what was happening around him. But neither opinion changed the outcome. The jury voted 10 to 2 in favor of death for Dolly’s murder, but weren’t unanimous for Jack’s. Still, the judge overrode the recommendation in Jack’s case and accepted the one for Dolly. On March 1st, 1993, Victor was sentenced to death for each victim.

 In addition, he was given consecutive life sentences for the two robbery convictions. Victor kept fighting the sentence for decades, filing appeal after appeal, but every court upheld the original verdict. And in 2025, after more than 32 years on death row, the state of Florida finally gave him a date, September [snorts] 30th, 2025.

On the morning of his execution, Victor woke up at 4:30 a.m. He met [music] briefly with a spiritual advisor, but didn’t receive any other visitors, according to a spokesperson for the Department of Corrections. Throughout the day, [music] he followed all orders without resistance and stayed calm. When it came time for his final meal, he asked for fried chicken, collard greens, and sweet tea.

The execution proceeded without any reported issues. When asked for his final words, he simply replied, “No, sir.” After the drugs were administered, a guard followed standard protocol, calling Victor’s name, brushing his eyelashes, and checking for a pulse. And he showed no response. At 6:17 p.m., he was pronounced dead.

Victor Tony Jones was 64 years old. What do you think? Has justice been served? Let us know your thoughts in the comments.