ABSTRACT
Back in 1996, I was trying to stop the state of Georgia from electrocuting Larry Lonchar. The prison employees who conduct an execution have to be volunteers, which tends to distill the class of guard that gets involved. Shortly before Larry was to be strapped into Ol’ Sparky, the polished oak electric chair, one of the sadists handed him a description of what was about to happen:
When the executioner throws the switch that sends the electric current through the body, the prisoner cringes from torture, his flesh swells, and his skin stretches to the point of breaking. He defecates, he urinates, his tongue swells and his eyes pop out. In some cases I have been told the eyeballs rest on the cheeks of the condemned. His flesh is burned and smells of cooked meat. When the autopsy is performed the liver is so hot it cannot be touched by human hand.
