Previously in "2nd Time Around":

In 1996, Sarah Griffin walked in on her neighbor, who had murdered his family. in 1998, she was convicted and sentenced to death for these killings.


2014:

"I don't actually remember anything about that day," Sarah told the audience of Touro students and faculty. "In fact, that whole week is gone. The last thing I remember before then is sitting in my cell at Fluvanna in Troy, a different town than Jarratt. Most of the following month is gone as well. That's in part thanks to the pain medication they were pumping into my body ... guess it was good stuff."

The large auditorium was silent as everyone listened to this account of the botched execution. Even those who heard the story before were wrapped up in the horror and morbidity. Sarah wouldn't let their interest in this plight get to her. She was here to inform, not entertain.

"About three or four days before an execution in Virginia, the condemned inmate is taken from whatever prison they're on Death Row in," she explained. "They're brought to the Greensville Correctional Center to sit in a Death Watch cell, where they are supervised around the clock until the time comes. Their every move and word are recorded, as are the actions of anyone around them. Names are often left out because the Department of Corrections wants to keep people's anonymity intact. During the investigation into what went wrong, we got some information. When we filed our multi-claim lawsuit against the state back in 2009, we got a subpoena for all the records from the execution. Both times, certain names were kept out, which the judge allowed despite our protests against it. It didn't matter. Even though we never got everyone's names, those records painted a pretty clear picture of what happened. I've been able to construct a memory from that, using some common sense to fill in the gaps."

Sarah stopped and asked for some water, which Grace gave her. She took a few gulps while everyone absorbed what she said. Had bits and pieces of it not made national headlines over the years, they might not believe her today. In truth, Sarah didn't care one way or the other.

"To this day, I don't know which is scarier ..." she continued, "knowing I survived or not remembering what happened."

Finished, she held the microphone out for Grace, who passed it down to Doug so he could tell his part of the story.

"Hello," the big man said, speaking in his usual deep, raspy southern drawl. "My name is Doug Walker. I'm an attorney with the firm of Wheeler, Lex, & Sutton in Richmond, Virginia. I've been an attorney for fourteen years now, working in our firm's criminal defense division, specifically overseeing pro bono cases. Before that, I was in the Coast Guard for six years. I also served seven years with the Richmond Police Department and another eight with the Virginia State Police, during which time I attended the University of Virginia School of Law in Charlottesville. I first met Sarah in 2004 when my firm took her on as a pro bono case and dropped the file on my desk. Now, I had studied capital punishment since law school and I was against the practice, but this was my first actual death penalty case. I guess my story begins a couple of days before Sarah's first execution ..."

2006:

... A corrections officer led Doug into the Death Watch area at the Greensville Correctional Center. The state of Virginia housed its condemned men at the Sussex State Prison in Waverly and the women at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Troy, but all executions were carried out here. The prison was in Greensville County, just outside the town of Jarratt. Official reports produced somewhere at some point said keeping Death Row and the execution chamber in separate facilities was less stressful for the condemned and the officers assigned to guard them throughout the years it took for appeals to make it through the court system. Doug didn't care if this was true. He still didn't like the process, regardless of any attempts to reduce stress.

The Commonwealth of Virginia had executed just under a hundred inmates since the U.S. Supreme Court allowed the resumption of capital punishment under new, stricter laws in 1976. Along the way, the state developed a well-known history with the electric chair. Lagging only behind Texas in the volume of executions performed, Virginia's legislature changed its laws in 1994 to make lethal injection the primary method of execution. Despite this change, inmates could still choose the chair if they wanted to go that way. If an inmate didn't choose, lethal injection was the default method. Since this change, about half a dozen inmates chose the chair over the needle.

For reasons only she knew and understood, Sarah chose to die in Virginia's electric chair. Doug remembered the day he came to visit, about a week after the execution date was set, and she told him she wanted to die that way, asking him to clear it with the courts and prison officials. He tried to pry an explanation out of her, but she wouldn't give one. Resigned, he did as requested and focused on preventing the execution altogether.

Doug thought this area looked a lot different from Sarah's description of the cell block where she lived back at Fluvanna. It was certainly smaller than those tiers while the cells seemed to be larger. Two cells lined one wall with a wide corridor affording the prison staff an open space on the other side of the bars from the inmate. A desk was set up opposite from the cells. On it was a standard desktop computer. A corrections officer sat there, watching Sarah and making a record of everything going on in the Death Watch area. The computer's keys clicked like those on any other keyboard as the officer typed, pausing when the young woman cast a wary glance at the visitor, a mountain of a man. This record was kept to protect the Department of Corrections from libelous claims that an inmate was treated harshly or otherwise in a negative manner prior to their execution. In an unofficial capacity, it satisfied the public's morbid interest in things such as the last meal and final statement.

Across the room was another door. It was a solid metal door which seemed to be locked. Doug knew this was the door through which an inmate would be taken when their time came. The room on the other side was the prison's execution chamber. As if to make this point any more obvious, a sign was mounted on the door, reading "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" in large black letters.

Sarah occupied the second of the two cells. Having been playing Solitaire on her bunk, she stopped and looked up when Doug stepped across the threshold.

"Hello," she said, watching him walked towards the cell. He was stopped by a yellow line which ran across the floor about five feet from the bars.

"Your cancer project seems to be coming along nicely," Doug observed.

Sarah's red hair was now longer than in the photos he'd seen of her before her incarceration. It ran almost all the way down her back.

"Yeah," Sarah said. "Looks like it's going to work out ... for somebody."

Doug had spent three months convincing the Department of Corrections to allow this despite the hair length violating their rules. But he'd been successful and Sarah had spent the past year growing it out.

"What about you?" Doug asked. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," Sarah replied. She set down her cards, stood, and stepped to the bars of the cell door. She looked up at Doug.

"How are things going with the courts?" she inquired.

"The 4th circuit turned us down without comment," Doug replied. "I've already filed with the U.S. Supreme Court. We've also still got claims in the Federal District Court for the eastern district of Virginia in Richmond and the Supreme Court of Virginia. Contrary to popular belief, we're not down for the count."

"What about the governor? Did he reconsider his decision?"

A few days earlier, Virginia Governor Joshua Leffat declined to grant clemency. Doug had previously expressed his doubts about him changing his mind. Governor Leffat was a vocal proponent of the death penalty.

"Guess I gotta start wrapping my head around that this is really gonna happen," Sarah concluded, looking at one of the walls in the cell.

"Don't give up," Doug implored. He'd often contended with Sarah's swinging opinions about the execution. The woman was still dealing with what happened the night of the murders. She still switched back and forth from blaming herself to accepting her actions were either accidental or an act of self-defense. In all honesty, Doug did not have time to bring her around to the latter idea. Instead, he studied her through the bars.

"Listen," he said, "this could literally come down to the wire. I anticipate I will be running from one courthouse to the next for the entire time we have left. I don't know when I'll be able to make it back here. But I promise I'll have my phone on me at all times. You can call me anytime and I'll call as often as I can."

He pointed to the phone mounted on the wall by the corrections officer and the computer.

"Don't give up on me," he encouraged.

Gripping the bars of the cell door, Sarah nodded, her mouth a thin, straight line.

* * *

"She's very lucky," the doctor was saying. "I don't need to tell all of you most people wouldn't even have survived what happened to her."

"What's the prognosis?" Doug asked, still reliving the past few hours. He was driving to Greensville, knowing Sarah's death would be announced any minute, when he heard something startlingly different over his truck's radio.

"What was supposed to be a routine execution at the Greensville Correctional Center turned into what death penalty opponents are already calling 'unimaginable torture'," a news anchor was saying. "Just thirty minutes ago, the state of Virginia went ahead with the execution of Sarah Inez Griffin when an unknown mishap occurred. We do not have many details at this time. What we do know is that an ambulance left the prison, its sirens wailing. Prison officials admitted the execution did not proceed as planned but did not go into further detail. Word from the witnesses ..."

When he'd arrived at the prison, Doug began threatening whomever he could with a lawsuit. This got him some information. Sarah was taken to the Ernest King Medical Center in Jarratt, the warden ensuring her family could follow the ambulance. From there, she was airlifted to the Richmond General Hospital two hours away. This facility was better equipped to handle her injuries.

When he arrived at the second hospital's waiting room, Doug was met by Sarah's parents, Ruth and George, and her siblings, Amelia and Lewis. Sarah's long-time boyfriend, Jerry Baker, was also there, accompanied by his guide dog, a Black Labrador/Golden Retriever mix named Nemo. When Doug asked, none of them had any information about what happened. All they'd ascertained from their seats in the waiting area at the prison was something went wrong in the execution chamber. Next thing they knew, Sarah was being rushed to a hospital. All they were told was she was unconscious and being treated for injuries related to being electrocuted. Like Doug, they followed the trail of information to Richmond, where they were still in the dark.

No one had thought to call him during their frantic drive from hospital to hospital. This was in part due to their forgetting to reclaim their cell phones at the prison. The only reason they got the keys to the van back was because the corrections officer on duty in the parking lot had held on to those. The phones and other personal belongings were in a box with "Griffin" scrawled across its side, which the warden had given Doug. It was still on the passenger seat in the big man's truck.

Within minutes of Doug's arrival, a representative from the Department of Corrections entered the hospital's waiting area. He attempted to appease everyone by saying there had been an unforeseen mishap and it was already being investigated.

"We hold ourselves to high constitutional standards," he added. "We only intend to follow the law as it is ..."

Doug thought the guy was making this speech up as he went along, but he couldn't stop to think about this. George had risen to his feet, anger flashing across his face. Lewis was also getting up, his whole body shaking as he moved to block his father's path. Doug stepped forward and put a hand on the man's shoulder.

The representative was stepping back, nervously adjusting his tie. He darted to the right when he realized he almost stepped on the sleeping Nemo's paw. Jerry remained silent, glaring in the man's direction as he reached down to ensure Nemo was unharmed.

Nearby, Ruth was crying and Amelia had her arms around her. It looked like the taller woman was using her body to shield her mother as silent tears rolled down her own cheeks.

George whirled around and glared up at Doug. The big man shook his head.

"No," he said in a soft voice.

He understood this man's anger. This was his daughter. But it wasn't the time to assault some pencil-pushing bureaucrat who, from the looks of him, had never set foot in a prison. Already worn down by the night's events, a defeated George sank into the nearest chair as Doug released him.

Another representative, this one from the Attorney General's office, arrived soon after, but he had the good sense to keep quiet. He and the corrections representative man conferred near the entrance, leaving the family alone.

When the doctor came out to report on Sarah's condition, everyone surrounded her, demanding answers. Startled, she recovered and gave them as much as she could.

"We've placed her in a medically-induced coma," she explained. "Her body is receptive to painful stimuli and she is in pain. Her vital signs aren't stable yet. We're still running tests to determine what sort of neurological and internal damage has been done."

"Are you giving her pain medication?" Ruth asked.

"Some. We can't overdo it, or she'll only slip deeper into the coma. We want to bring her back as soon as possible so we can learn more about her prognosis."

"Then what do you know now?" Ruth asked, desperate for a coherent answer.

"The burns to her head and leg were minor and are easily treatable. Since the electrodes directed the flow of electricity into her body, this type of injury is much less severe than what we would expect. There are a few other burns on her skin, but again, they are minor in comparison."

She stopped, taking a breath.

"There is one more thing we know," she said. "I am not sure if you are aware, but electricity affects the body's softest tissues first. Because of this, Sarah's eyes sustained massive damage. I don't mean to be blunt, but they've literally melted. There was nothing we could do for her but remove what was left."

Doug's jaw clenched and his stomach lurched. He knew the masks and veils prison officials used to cover the faces of the condemned in the electric chair weren't just for ceremony. Still, knowing this wasn't comforting.

"So ... So, she's blind?" Amelia asked. She looked at Jerry and Nemo, her face pale.

"Yes," The doctor replied. "We're uncertain about what other damage was done. But we will let you know once we know. She is still in critical condition, so we'll watch her closely for the next few hours."

She left the waiting area.

"Okay," The representative from the Department of Corrections chimed in, speaking to no one in particular. "We'll need to coordinate security ..."

Doug steered the Griffin family off to another part of the waiting area so they wouldn't have to listen to this. They shouldn't have to hear about Sarah being considered a dangerous prisoner needing guards around her. People were already casting wary glances their way. To expedite the relocation, he himself led Jerry along rather than leaving the task up to Nemo. After all, neither the man nor the dog knew their way around this hospital.

As they moved, Doug noticed signs of extra security already being established. When he arrived, he saw a uniformed security guard standing near the hospital's entrance. Now, there were three milling around the waiting area. Someone in a suit came down a nearby corridor and was speaking with various personnel, including the woman behind the reception desk and one of the guards. It wouldn't be long before everyone knew a convicted quadruple murderer was in the hospital.

"This is unbelievable," Ruth said, sitting down again. "I really thought this nightmare couldn't get any worse."

She buried her face in her hands.

"Are we gonna be able to see her?" George asked, his face ashen.

"I don't know," Doug replied, glancing back at the government representatives. "Honestly, I don't think so. They're already making security arrangements. She'll be surrounded within the hour."

He took off his sunglasses and wiped the lenses with a tissue, doing this more to stop his hands from shaking than anything else. Replacing the lenses on his face, he glanced over his shoulder when he overheard a comment about the "ax murderer" being here. The speaker was an old, white-haired woman with a walker who was sitting nearby, speaking to a younger woman, perhaps her daughter. No one else seemed to have heard the remark and Doug let it go.â??

"I need to call Michael," Amelia said and excused herself. Her husband was with their children back at the hotel. In all the craziness, she hadn't had time to do this earlier.

"Maybe you should all go back to your hotel," Doug suggested. "I'm getting the feeling it'll be a while before we know anything else. I can stay here, and you can go back to Jarratt and get your stuff so you can stay in a place close to the hospital."

It seemed like a reasonable idea. Jarratt was a far drive for going back and forth over the next few days.

"I can make arrangements with a hotel here while you go," Doug offered.

Everyone agreed, though Amelia griped about having to wake up and relocate her five-year-old and one-year-old. Nevertheless, she left with Jerry, Nemo, Lewis, and their parents while Doug went to the nearby hotels to find them rooms. Since it was two in the morning, he was sure his search wouldn't be the easiest.