For some reason the execution of Tommie Hughes on March 15, 2006 affected me more than usual. I knew Tommie. I called him a comrade. He was a lively soul – had a great talent for writing, rapping, poetry and singing. He loved to sing and perhaps it’s that expression of the soul that I’ll miss the most because the sounds of steel doors rolling, bars slamming, inmates talking can create nausea. To hear a nice voice shatter these polluted airwaves is a sweet relief. But that voice has been eradicated.
On March 13, 2006 I was at visit with my family. Tommie was next to me visiting his family. We exchanged words briefly but I didn’t want to distract him long from his family. I know every moment was precious. I watched as maybe 10 or so family members took turns talking to Tommie. It was hard to not be somber. When my visit was over, they promptly came for me and as they brought me by Tommie’s visiting cage I stopped and told him that I loved him. He said the same and extended 2 fingers out of the metal grill and I reached back and locked them with my fingers. That was the extent of my goodbye.
Maybe that is why my soul aches because I wanted to stop and talk. I wanted to maybe say a prayer, or do a poem or tell him to hit a note. But I couldn’t. The Texas Death Machine does not stall for us. It consumes rapidly. Compassion is tripped away. Humanity has been clawed at viciously. How do we keep these men alive; their words/spirits? I believe we owe them so much.
On his last day Tommie did not walk as they prepared to take him to the van that would rush him to the gurney. What DRIVE has done – Tony Ford has done, has touched inmates. In 4 months, Shannon Thomas, Marion Dudley and Tommie Hughes did not walk. These are just steps – just the beginning. Grains of sand make a beach.
Sometimes I cannot write so quickly because my heart aches. I have been looking at this blank sheet of paper for several days. Sometimes pain leads to silence. We need moments of stillness where the soul can regenerate. Somewhere Tommie’s tunes will live on. His personality will surface. It’s unfortunate how America condemns, hides, suffocates, oppresses an kills its people. I’ve really come to see – through our protest – how inmates are hopeless. Some have turned their anger upon us – not because it’s real hate, but because it’s anger and frustration at their own complacency. We are encouraging men to recapture their lives – if only for a moment. In time – if we persist – we’ll expose the death penalty for what it is.
In the meantime my spirit yearns for the fight, but more so it yearns for peace. But peace seems so far away when you’re loved ones are ripped from right under you. It’s almost unbearable that we have to count down the murders. This is a part of death row. It’s a torture that tears. If only we had those sweet tunes piercing the airwaves of death to keep us in tune with life. I won’t stop listening. I won’t ever stop listening.
