Published  January 21, 2007

‘Those Who Have Sinned Much, Much Is Forgiven.’
Inmate’s Death Offers Life Lessons

By Father Kirk Larkin
Associate Pastor
Saint Mary Church, Ponca City

It is 6:10 p.m., Jan. 9, 2007, and I have just finished praying the Office of the Dead for Corey Hamilton, the 84th person executed in the state of Oklahoma since the death penalty was re-instated 30 years ago. After finishing my prayers, I began to reflect on an experience I had a few months ago, an experience I will never forget and one that I am just now able to talk about … witnessing the execution of James Malicoat at Oklahoma State Penitentiary on Aug. 31, 2006. It’s a story of how God’s infinite mercy was demonstrated in a most powerful way and a story I feel I need to share with others.

I remember sitting at my desk one day when I received a strange phone call.  The caller told me he worked for the public defenders office and asked if I would be willing to witness the execution of a convicted killer at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester. I was totally caught off guard … I mean, what do you say to a question like that with no warning?

Many strange thoughts immediately began to flood my mind.  The first thing that came to my mind was from the dark, morbid side of my humanity.  “What would it be like to see someone executed?”  

The next thing I remember thinking was, “How would I respond to a situation like this?” Questions kept pouring into my mind, all in a matter of seconds.

I told the caller that I didn’t think I was the right person to do this. He said, “My name is Scott Braden, and I know a priest from your diocese who suggested your name.  I also know that you worked with inmates in the Kairos Prison Ministry (a multi-denominational program that brings the Word of God into the prison system), and my sister attends your parish.”  

That seemed like a peculiar set of coincidences so I said, “Why don’t you let me think about it, and I’ll call you back.”

Well, the more I thought about it, the more I began to realize that maybe God’s hand was in this. So I called Scott back the next day and reluctantly said I would do it.  

Scott gave me some basic information and the date of the execution.  The name of the inmate was James P. Malicoat, and he was convicted of killing his 13-month-old daughter.  I was also told that Brother Vianney-Marie Graham, a Benedictine monk from Clear Creek Monastery in Hulbert, who had been in contact with James for several years, wanted to attend the execution and would like to ride with me.  I called Brother Vianney, and he told me he had come to know James fairly well over the years, that he was a baptized Christian and that he had a desire to make amends for what he had done.  He suggested I might see if he would make a Profession of Faith and then hear his confession. I wasn’t sure if I could even do that.  After discussing the situation with my spiritual director, he said that in this case that would be allowable.  

I was getting nervous as the date of the execution approached, unsure of what this situation would bring … not only for myself but for James and for all involved.  The day before I was to leave, I received another phone call from James’ attorney, saying that the execution had been postponed for a week due to an incident James had witnessed and that he would have to testify for the state.  It was at that point that my feelings about this whole situation changed.  It seemed as though they were toying with this man’s life. He had been preparing himself for this fateful day and now the “powers that be” decide to postpone his execution so he could help them with a case against another inmate. I actually felt anger welling up inside of me.  

James’ attorney informed me that the new date for the execution was now scheduled for the following Thursday. I rearranged my schedule as I was now determined to be there.  

Finally the day came. I drove to Clear Creek Monastery the evening before to spend the night so Brother Vianney and I could leave early the next morning.  We left around 7 a.m. and arrived in McAlester around 9 a.m.  We went directly to H-Unit, where they house the condemned. As we walked into the building, I felt a cold chill run through my entire body. Everything was gray … the walls, the floors, the bars and even the prison guards. We sat in the entry area for over an hour waiting and going through all the necessary paperwork.  

Around 10:30 a.m. several more guards arrived and we were then searched and escorted into the unit.  As the bars of the door slammed shut behind us, my heart began to race. How was I going to react once I was in the presence of a convicted killer? What was I going to say to him?  Would I be able to convince James, as well as myself, that God’s mercy triumphs over His justice?  

The walk through the hallways was long and lonely.  Other than the sound of our shoes on the floor and steel doors closing behind us, there was an eerie silence pervading the building.  

We finally reached a large, open area next to the death chamber where there was only a thick glass window and a telephone receiver hanging on the wall.  Several minutes passed before a guard near the window motioned for one of us to come over. Brother Vianney would be first. As the monk visited with James, I began to pray that God would give me the grace to see this man as a child of God and overcome my preconceptions.  

After about 20 minutes, I saw Brother Vianney put the receiver down and motion for me to come over. It was only a 30- to 40-foot walk, but it seemed like a mile. Now my heart really began to pound.  What was I going to see?  What did a cold-blooded killer look like?  

There sat a normal-looking man in black-framed glasses wearing a somewhat embarrassed smile. Not sure of how to start a conversation such as this, I asked, “How’s it going?”  

Now the embarrassed smile filled my lips. With the tension now broken, I began to ask him about his faith beliefs and his understanding of the Catholic faith.  As I explained, using Scripture where I could, our belief in the Sacrament of Penance, I asked James if he would like to make a Profession of Faith and confess his sins. He said the last time he confessed to something he wound up getting the death penalty. He was also convinced that God would not forgive him for the terrible crime he had committed.  

I paraphrased the story of the sinful woman in Chapter 7 of Luke’s Gospel and told him that to those who have sinned much, much is forgiven. I then asked him if he believed in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. Do you believe in Jesus Christ His only Son? And so on all the way through the Creed.  To each he answered, “Yes.”  

I said, “You have just made a profession of faith. Would you now like to make a confession?”  What followed was one of the most beautiful and contrite confessions I have heard in my short time as a priest.  I then extended my hands and gave him absolution.  

We were able to visit for only a few more minutes before the guards advised us it was time to leave.  

It was about 11:30 a.m. when Brother Vianney and I left H-Unit. We went to find a park to eat a nice lunch the monk had prepared before we left. There were not a whole lot of words spoken over the next few hours as we waited to go back for the execution.  

We arrived at the holding area around 4 p.m. and waited till 5:30 p.m. to be escorted to the death chamber. Once in, we sat in silence with his lawyers and a handful of reporters as we watched the warden and another man waiting by two phones as if they might ring. The phones never rang.  

At approximately 5:55 p.m., the warden picked up a third phone and gave the word to proceed.  The curtain in front of us began to open. It was like it was in slow motion.  First I saw his feet, then his knees, then his waist and finally his whole body.  There he was, no more than 10 feet away from me strapped to a table — in the shape of all things, a cross — with several tubes in his arms.  The executioner then lowered a microphone in front of his mouth for his last words. James said he was sorry for what he had done and all the pain he had caused, especially to his mother. He prayed that those who had been affected by his actions could now move on with their lives and that he holds no one responsible but himself.  

With that, the warden gave a nod of his head. I felt overwhelmed by nausea. I was sure I was going to get sick but a certain peace came over me as I recalled his confession.  In a matter of minutes, he gasped for his last breath.    

It was a long three-hour drive home that night with many thoughts running through my mind.  It’s strange the kind of thoughts one thinks after an experience like that.  It’s also strange the kind of relationship you can build with a man in such a short time under such circumstances. I have heard some say that men like that need to be put to death. But I cannot help but think of how powerful the prayers of a man like that might be and the good he could do with those prayers if he were left to live. Others have said that it is easy for someone to repent and convert at the 11th hour. It wasn’t easy for James.  

I shared this story with my spiritual director and he said it was good that I was there for James, but he asked me what James had done for me. That’s a good question and one that I will have to unpack. But I do know, now more than ever, that God can bring good out of any kind if evil and that the Church’s teaching on the death penalty is founded on Wisdom beyond this world.  

And there will be new meaning for me when I proclaim the words of our Lord from the Gospel, “I tell you, in just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous people who have no need of repentance.”  Luke 15:7