STARKE, Fla. — Tonight, We The People of the State of Florida executed Dennis “Denny” Sochor, a 74-year-old United States Army veteran who spent forty years on Florida’s death row.

We grieve first and foremost for Patricia Gifford, whose young life was stolen in 1981, and for all who have carried the burden of grief for decades. Nothing can undo that harm. 

We also grieve for Dennis, for those who loved him, and for the people of Florida, whose government has once again chosen another unnecessary act of violence. Whether we support the death penalty or oppose it, we each bear the responsibility for this ongoing state-sanctioned killing.

We are now halfway through the year, and we again own the dark distinction as the state that is killing the highest numbers of its own citizens. In fact, Florida has executed more people in 2026 alone than all other states combined. This is not something to celebrate or use to score political points.

Dennis Sochor’s story is familiar. After all, people with nurturing and safe childhoods do not typically end up on death row. Before he ever wore our nation’s uniform or heard a judge bang a gavel, he experienced profound trauma, violence, neglect, and generational mental illness. While those facts may not excuse what happened to Patricia Gifford, they absolutely help explain how a human life could become so deeply broken. 

Even after decades of litigation, important questions surrounding this case never fully disappeared. Patricia Gifford’s body was never recovered. The State twists this fact to argue that Dennis is remorseless, and has withheld this detail on purpose. However, the reality is that Dennis has long explained that he does not know exactly where Patricia was killed. And that, if he did, he would lead police to her location. There’s no reason for him to lie about that – after all, he did detail his involvement to police after his arrest.

The State’s case rested heavily on Dennis’ statements, which were given to the police while he was experiencing a depressive episode of his untreated bipolar disorder. The State also relied on the testimony of his brother, Gary, who was present on the night Patricia disappeared. Gary was likely given immunity for his cooperation, and was never charged. 

As recently as 2022, police contacted Gary requesting information about the location of Patricia’s body. If they’re sure they have the right man and the full picture of the crime, what are they still investigating?

Compounding the uncertainty around the crime is the uncertainty around Florida’s execution method. Despite increasing concerns regarding lethal injection in Florida and beyond, the state and federal courts continued to shield Florida from any meaningful investigation into the way it kills. Hiding behind stringent procedural bars, Florida is playing a shell game – altering its protocol as it pleases over the years and then successfully arguing that condemned prisoners raised the method challenges too late.

The execution of a septuagenarian delivers none of the “promises” the death penalty purports to offer. Dennis is not the same man as when he entered prison four decades ago. He matured. He grew old. He reflected on his life. He found faith, friendship, and gratitude in places most people would never think to look. He listened to classical music and read philosophy. He fell in love. He watched documentaries about migrating birds. He fed the squirrels in the prison rec yard. He waited for the rare sight of a bald eagle soaring over Florida State Prison. 

When recounting those experiences, he wrote to a friend, “I don’t celebrate my stay here in my loneliness… but I search for all signs of life, like the birds and the squirrel visiting.” There is profound tragedy in the notion that while Dennis awaited his own death, he treasured all the reminders of life around him.

His letters, published in a book by a longtime penfriend, reveal a man who never stopped looking outward. While waiting each day to learn whether Florida would one day execute him, Dennis wrote about children suffering in war, refugees living in poverty, prisoners starving in North Korea, and the importance of compassion. 

He wrote, “I have learned to cherish life. Each and everyone must learn to love themselves to be able to love others.” He dreamed about what he would do if given another chance. “If I am ever released from this prison,” he wrote, “I will find the most peaceful place on the planet and do as many good deeds as I possibly can.”

Tonight, Florida murdered a senior citizen, who, even though trapped by steel and concrete surroundings, embraced humanity and found joy in the flight of birds, the visit of a friendly squirrel, the kindness of his friends and loved ones, and the possibility of a better world. He no longer posed a threat to anyone.

We will remember Patricia Gifford. We will remember Dennis Sochor. And we will continue to ask Florida the same question after every execution: What part of our own humanity do we surrender when we allow killing to be carried out in our names?