Chapter 4 - THE GALLOWS STANDOFF
The atmosphere inside the Huntsville Unit was electric with tension.
The state troopers had moved into the administrative wing,
claiming a "security breach" had necessitated their presence.
Mitchell was stopped at the gate,
his car searched,
and his phone confiscated.
He managed to hide the flash drive in his sock,
walking into his own prison like a man under arrest.
He was met by Judge Sterling himself,
who was standing in the Warden’s office,
looking as calm and polished as ever.
"Robert,
you look tired,"
Sterling said,
the red-stoned ring glinting on his finger.
"You shouldn't have listened to the ramblings of a traumatized child."
"It’s messy."
"It’s beneath a man of your experience."
Mitchell looked at him with pure,
unadulterated loathing.
"I found the ring,
Elias."
"I found the ledger."
"And I know that you’re the one who should be on that gurney tonight."
Sterling smiled,
a cold,
thin-lipped expression of absolute power.
"Even if you have proof,
who will you tell?"
"The troopers outside work for the Governor,
who is a founding member of the Order."
"The phone lines are down for 'maintenance'."
"The internet is jammed."
"Gavin Cole will be dead in two hours,
and by tomorrow,
the evidence will be gone,
and you will be retired."
Mitchell realized then that he couldn't win from inside the system.
The system was the murderer.
At 11:30 p.m.,
the guards entered Gavin’s cell to perform the final walk.
Gavin stood up,
his legs like lead,
his heart cold.
He saw the fear in the eyes of the young guards,
the ones who knew something was wrong but were too afraid to speak.
They led him down the "Death Row" corridor,
past the cells of men who were banging their cups against the bars in a deafening,
metallic protest.
He was strapped onto the gurney,
his arms extended as if on a cross.
The IV lines were inserted into his veins.
The curtain was opened,
revealing the witnesses in the small,
cramped room.
Chloe was not there,
thank God.
But Warden Mitchell was there,
standing by the microphone,
his face pale and set in stone.
Judge Sterling sat in the front row,
watching with the clinical interest of a scientist.
The lead executioner looked at Mitchell,
waiting for the signal to begin the flow of the lethal chemicals.
Mitchell didn't look at the executioner.
He looked at the small camera in the corner of the room,
the one used for the official state record.
He knew that the internal feed was being recorded on a secure server in the basement,
a server that even the Governor couldn't touch without a physical key.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive,
holding it up to the camera.
"My name is Robert Mitchell,
Warden of the Huntsville Unit,"
he began,
his voice echoing through the chamber.
May you like
"And I am refusing to carry out this execution."
"Because the real killer is sitting in the front row."
