ASHVILLE, Oct. 1 — At the
Riverbend Maximum Security Institution here, through a set of double
doors next to several vending machines, a gurney stands ready to
deliver prisoners to their executions by lethal injection.
Just about every aspect of the death penalty provokes acrimonious
debate, but this method of killing, by common consensus, is as
humane as medicine can make it. People who have witnessed injection
executions say the deaths appeared hauntingly serene, more evocative
of the operating room than of the gallows.
But a growing number of legal and medical experts are warning
that the apparent tranquillity of a lethal injection may be
deceptive. They say the standard method of executing people in most
states could lead to paralysis that masks intense distress, leaving
a wide-awake inmate unable to speak or cry out as he slowly
suffocates.
In 2001, it became a crime for veterinarians in Tennessee to use
one of the chemicals in that standard method to euthanize pets.
The chemical, pancuronium bromide, has been among those specified
for use in lethal injections since Oklahoma first adopted that
method of execution in 1977. Only now, though, is widespread
attention starting to focus on it.
Spurred by a lawsuit by a death row inmate here, advances in
human and veterinary medicine, and a study last year that revealed
for the first time the chemicals that many other states use to carry
out executions, experts have started to question this part of the
standard lethal injection method.
Pancuronium bromide paralyzes the skeletal muscles but does not
affect the brain or nerves. A person injected with it remains
conscious but cannot move or speak.
In Tennessee and about 30 other states, the chemical is used in
combination with two others. The other chemicals can either ease or
exacerbate the suffering the pancuronium bromide causes, depending
on the dosages and the expertise of the prison personnel who
administer them.
A judge here recently found that pancuronium bromide, marketed
under the trade name Pavulon, has "no legitimate purpose."
"The subject gives all the appearances of a serene expiration
when actually the subject is feeling and perceiving the
excruciatingly painful ordeal of death by lethal injection," the
judge, Ellen Hobbs Lyle, wrote, describing the worst-case scenario.
"The Pavulon gives a false impression of serenity to viewers, making
punishment by death more palatable and acceptable to society."
A simpler and more humane alternative to the three-chemical
combination, many experts agree, is the method usually used in
animal euthanasia: a single lethal dose of a barbiturate called
sodium pentobarbital.
Dr. Sherwin B. Nuland, who teaches medicine at Yale and wrote
"How We Die" (Knopf, 1994) said he was baffled to hear that
pancuronium bromide was used in executions.
"It strikes me that it makes no sense to use a muscle relaxant in
executing people," he said. "Complete muscle paralysis does not mean
loss of pain sensation."
Dr. Nuland, who described himself as a cautious supporter of the
death penalty, said a humane death could be achieved in other ways,
including by using the other two chemicals in the standard method,
without the pancuronium bromide.
The challenge to the use of pancuronium bromide was brought in
chancery court here by Abu-Ali Abdur'Rahman, who is on death row for
a 1986 murder. Judge Lyle wrote that the use of the chemical "taps
into every citizen's fear that the government manipulates the
setting and gilds the lily." But despite her misgivings, she ruled
that the use of the drug did not violate the Constitution's ban on
cruel and unusual punishment, because it was widely used and because
"there is less than a remote chance that the prisoner will be
subjected to unnecessary physical pain or psychological
suffering."
The case is on appeal.
Mr. Abdur'Rahman, 52, is being held at the Riverbend prison,
along with 92 other death row inmates. He is short and slight, and
his long beard has turned gray. He spoke to a visitor through thick
glass.