Emmitt Foster and an accomplice broke into the St. Louis County home of Travis Walker and his girlfriend De Ann Keys at 2 a.m. on November 20, 1983. Both men shot Walker, who died, and Keys, who survived to identify Foster as his accomplice.
Both were convicted. Foster drew a death sentence. The other man got life.
Foster’s time and appeals ran out on May 31, 1995.
The Missourinet had a policy from the time the death penalty was reinstated that we would witness all executions. We felt that any time the state exacted its utmost penalty, it should not be done secretly and that representatives of the media had to be present.
I sent my reporter, Brad Farrell, to Potosi to cover Foster’s execution. At the time, the Missourinet was offering a wire service to our affiliates and the editor went with him.
Missouri had a problem when it re-enacted the death penalty because it had no facility capable of administering it in the state penitentiary old penitentiary. The gas chamber gasket that sealed the chamber closed had deteriorated so badly that the chamber could not contain the cyanide gas that was used, provoking fears that everybody else would die, too.
Until a room could be modified into a death chamber at the Potosi prison the gas chamber was modified with the removal of the two chairs inside, creating enough room for a gurney on which the condemned prisoner would lie. Equipment was installed for the administration of the drugs. So the first death penalty inflicted after re-enactment of it was done with drugs in the gas chamber.
At Potosi, as is the case now at Bonne Terre, there are three glassed-in areas around the execution chamber. Media and other state witnesses sit in one area while friends, relatives and spiritual advisors of the condemned sit across the chamber. The third area is for other witnesses with interests in the case. When the prisoner on the gurney raises his head and looks past his feet, he can see those witnesses. In one instance, a man who killed a highway patrolman looked up and saw the area packed with men in the blue uniforms of the patrol.
Foster’s execution, the 12th by drugs in Missouri, was a routine event until something went wrong.
The blinds covering the windows of the witness areas were always closed while the preparations are underway inside the chamber and are not opened until all prison and medical personnel have departed, leaving the inmate tightly strapped to the gurney and able to move only his head and his feet.
The blinds were opened as the first drug began to flow into Emmitt Foster’s veins at 12:03 that morning. Normally the inmate has only a minute or so to find his witnesses and mouth any words to them, as they mouthed words to him—there is no public address system in the chamber. It usually does not take long for the first drug to knock out the inmate, for his head to drop to the pillow. The other two drugs that paralyzed breathing and stopped the heart usually produced a couple of gasps and then stillness. In four or five minutes, the blinds were to close and the announcement would be given in the witness areas that the procedure had been completed.
But not for Foster. When things did not appear to be going the usual way, Brad, who had witnessed three other executions saw him “gasping and slightly convulsing and I could see that he was still breathing,” as the St. Louis Post-dispatch reported. Brad remembers turning to his Learfield colleague and saying “Something’s wrong. This isn’t what I’ve seen before.” When Foster was still alive seven minutes into the procedure, the blinds were closed.
When the Washington County Medical Examiner entered the chamber about 12:27 to find out why Foster was still alive he noticed that a strap on Foster’s arm was fastened too close to his elbow while the needle allowing drugs to into his veins was closer to his wrist, the strap serving as something of a tourniquet. He told other officials to loosen the strap and after that, “things happened quickly.” Foster’s heartbeat quickly fell and stopped within three or four minutes.
The blinds remained closed for twenty-six minutes, three minutes after officials had gone back into the chamber to figure out what was wrong, correct it, and then complete the execution. He was pronounced dead at 12:33. The blinds were reopened so witnesses could see that Foster was dead.
The witnesses filed out. “We didn’t see him die,” Brad told me a few days ago from his home in Alexandria Virginia. He’s now an attorney for the Department of Veterans Affairs. He and our Learfield wire service editor refused to sign the warrants attesting that they had witnessed the execution. “I didn’t know what had happened. They could have put a pillow over his face,” Brad said.
The medical examiner later called the incident “a little error” and commented, ”It’s not like the guy suffered,” he said.
We had a discussion with State Corrections Director Dora Shriro a day or two after the event to resolve issues related to the refusal to sign the document. Somewhere in the state archives, probably, is that document.
The Post-Dispatch commented, “Why shouldn’t the public’s representatives get to see what happens when the best laid plans for killing a prisoner go awry? The state tries to make executions seem so clinical and so painless that the harsh truth of what is happening recedes into the background. The government is premeditatedly lowering itself to a criminal’s level by taking yet another life. Emmitt Foster’s slow death and the state’s frantic reaction bring home once again what capital punishment really means—and make one more argument for no more executions.”
The Death Penalty Information Center, has counted at least 65 botched executions, 1982-present, most involving lethal injection in Tennessee, Idaho, Alabama, and Ohio because of problems hooking up intravenous lines. Foster is twenty-second on the list, the only one from Missouri
Missouri has executed 90 more men since that night without a repeat of Foster’s death.
(Photo Credit–Missouri Department of Corrections)
























