ABSTRACT
July 1991 was an unusually oppressive, hot, and humid month, even for Louisiana. I was working as an attorney at the Loyola Death Penalty Resource Center. We were a small office: three attorneys, an investigator/paralegal, and an office administrator. We represented men on death row in Louisiana, generally in the final stages of their appeals before executions were to be carried out. I had worked in the office a little over a year, and throughout that period of time there was always the threat of an execution. We worked around the clock, through the weekends, in an almost desperate manner, seeking stays of executions. Our offices were housed in an old bank building in downtown New Orleans. It was not air conditioned on weekends but tended to retain at least some of the coolness of the previous work week. By Sunday night, however, it became unbearable. When I was overwhelmed by the heat, I would take a break from my computer and lie down on the cool marble floor in the hallway outside our offices.
