The Ballad of George Stinney Jr PART TEN

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This story is true, names have been changed to protect the innocent, other names are real to allow you to examine the cruelty of a broken system or to allow the reader to examine the actions of real persons.

The Ballad of George Stinney Jr

By

Roman Scott

PART TEN

George had his bible clutched under his right arm. An officer was on each side of him. He shuffled along in chains. Where exactly did they think he would run? He had butterflies in his stomach. As he took each step forward he thought. Maybe on the other side, they wouldn’t hate him so much. Jesus help me. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me. They went through the door. The chair at the center of the room had a bright overhead light. To his right, there was a viewing window. At this moment there was a curtain over it. The Officer removed the cuffs from his wrists and ankles. He then grabbed the bible from George and tossed it over his shoulder. George was shocked briefly. The Officer took him by the arm and placed him in the chair. George didn’t resist. His head was well below the cap used to conduct electricity into the brain.

The Boy needed a boost. The officer called out to the other behind him. He asked him for something to prop the boy up. The other officer turned and picked up the bible off the floor. They took George out of the chair. The other officer placed the bible in the seat. They brought George back. They sat him on the bible. His skull was close enough to the cranium cap. The quickly went about strapping George in. A belt around his chest, his ankles, one each across his thighs. Straps around his arms as they rested on the arms of the death chair. George began to breathe quickly. He was about to die. They tied the death mask over his face and now he was in darkness. It was like he was dead already. He screamed.

“Shut up.” The officer said. George went silent but he could not keep from breathing fast. He wanted to pray but he couldn’t calm down. The curtain was opened so people could watch George die. He gripped the chair. They put something wet on his head. It dripped down his face. He screamed again. He didn’t know what was happening. The officer ignored his screams. What was happening? When would it come? What would it feel like? He prayed it wouldn’t hurt. Jesus take me quick. George lost the world at that moment. His senses numbed and his whole body tightened like a fist. He felt as though he had been thrown down a flight of stairs. Then the release came. The death mask fell loose uncovering his face. You see the death mask wasn’t made for a child. Tears rolled down his face. He screamed.

“MOMMA!”

They threw the switch again. The Brine on the sponge had evaporated. It set his hair and skin on fire. George couldn’t scream. It immobilized him, his whole body tensed and shook. The second jolt wouldn’t kill him either.

George was bleeding from his face, a cloud of thick smoke rose from him, he said low under his breath.

“Momma.”

The third shock killed George Stinney jr.

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