INTRODUCTION

It is August 7, 2003. I am on my way to visit Robert Will, who is on death row in Texas. He was convicted of murdering a police officer. Driving up Rte. 59 towards Livingston, the location of Texas' infamous death row. I pass road signs that say, "Abortion Stops a Beating Heart," "We Buy Ugly Houses," and "This Ain't Your Momma's Mobile Home." Up and down the sides of the highway are mobile homes for sale. You can pick one out and have it delivered to wherever you want. Just before the Livingston exit, I pass a store that sells tropical plants on the side of the road. A dead armadillo is splattered along the highway.

A stranger stands out in a town like Livingston, which could be considered quaint were it not for the knowledge that most of its inhabitants either work at or know somebody who works at the Polunsky Unit, the prison where all of Texas' executions are currently held. After exiting the highway, town is on my right. I take a left. Less than two miles down the fast-food-restaurant-lined street, I make another left onto a shady "farm to market" road. I drive past an elementary school, two churches and a few small houses. Nearing the prison entrance I see what looks like a red and white checkered water tower peering over the trees to my right. It is actually a septic tank. From there it's all barbed wire fences and guard towers.
 
I met Robert through Randy Greer, a death row inmate I had been corresponding with over the past two years. I had originally begun writing Randy for a journalism class in which I was writing a story exploring how people end up committing brutal crimes. In corresponding with Randy about prison conditions, his life, and his regrets, I came to believe that those on death row are not monsters so much as ordinary people with families and aspirations who end up doing terrible things due to terrible circumstances.
 
A few months earlier, Randy had asked me to try to find a pen pal for his friend Robert, who is nicknamed "Dead." Nobody I knew was interested. So one day, mostly out of curiosity, I did some research on his case. Here is what I found:
 
On December 4, 2000, Robert Will and his friend Rocky were breaking into cars in a residential neighborhood in Houston. Two police officers drove by and saw what the two men were doing. The suspects split up and fled. The police officer who was chasing Robert Will, Deputy Barrett Hill, ended up shot and killed. Rocky was charged with auto theft; Robert with murder.
 
In reading the accounts of his trial in local news, the case against him appeared flimsy. One article stated that Deputy Hill's gun was found in its holster and that investigators believed that he had reholstered his gun to handcuff Will when Will began struggling and went for his own gun. I was under the impression that police officers check their suspects for weapons before putting away their own. The article also stated that the defense said, "When Will was arrested he had no gunpowder residue on his right hand, with which he [was] alleged to have fired the weapon." Robert Will's attorney, David Cunningham, said that Rocky bragged in jail and that an inmate testified that Rocky confessed to the killing. These articles made me begin to question Robert Will's guilt.
 
I noticed suspicious involvement in the case on the parts of the prosecution and the Houston police. According to the Houston Chronicle, Rocky's father had been a Houston police officer since 1993, and his older brother was on the Houston Police Department payroll as a part-time aide for two months. Along with my growing doubt about Will's guilt, this made me curious as to why Rocky was never a suspect in the murder. Harris County District Attorney Chuck Rosenthal compared Robert Will, in court, with the terrorists who attacked the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, saying, "what we know from September 11 is that evil exists in the world: it is embodied in Robert Gene Will." Coming only months after the attacks, it was clear that Rosenthal was playing on the still raw emotions of the jurors and the media. Such a statement, it seemed to me, could have a serious effect on the jury's final decision. I would later discover that Robert Will's attorneys failed to object to this statement.
 
Since I was going to be living in Texas for the summer, I decided to write to Robert and ask his permission for me to further investigate his case. He approved. I went through court records, transcripts, witness statements, and police call logs until we agreed to meet face to face in August.
 
I park my car and head into the first building. Of the almost 3,000 prisoners at the Polunsky Unit, 449 live on Death Row. Each offender has a single-bed, 60 square foot cell with a small window to let in some natural light.

I park my car and head into the first building. Of the almost 3,000 prisoners at the Polunsky Unit, 449 live on Death Row. Each offender has a single-bed, 60 square foot cell with a small window to let in some natural light. Every cell has a toilet, a sink, a metal bunk with one pillow and a mattress. With two hours of recreation every weekday, prisoners recreate separately in small outdoor cages. Breakfast is served around 2:30 a.m. through a slot in the cell door. Lunch is served at 9:30 a.m. and dinner at 3:30 p.m.
The guards refer to men behind bars as inmates rather than prisoners. Prisoners may receive letters from family and friends, and these are slid under the cell doors. If a prisoner becomes sick he must send a request to the hospital explaining his illness. He will be seen within a week.
 
Visitors are not allowed to wear open-toed shoes or revealing clothing. This includes tank tops and skirts above the knee. These are typical rules found in just about any prison in this country and each is considered essential to the "security" of the prison. Only pocket change can be brought into the prison; no paper money is allowed. Few Death Row prisoners have visitors, primarily because most of their loved ones want nothing to do with them after they've been convicted and sentenced to death. Most of the occasional Death Row visitors are born again Christians; they come every day. Those on Death Row appreciate these visits because it allows them to get out of their cells (and into visiting cells) and eat vending machine food.
After making sure my name is on the visitation list and checking my ID, the correctional officer behind the bulletproof glass tells me to walk through the metal detector. Once I've walked through, she electronically opens the first door. When I get through that door and it has fully closed and locked, another electronic door opens. In order to get to the outdoor walkway that leads to the visitation building, I have to pass through two more electronic gates, each one locking itself behind me as I pass. I feel the curious stares of prisoners on me from their cell windows. Upon entering the visitation building, I walk through two more computer-operated doors. The whole process has taken about ten minutes.
 
A corrections officer looks up my name on her list and directs me to a seat in front of a window. There is a row of seats on either side of me. The prisoners sit in single cells behind the window. Small dividers separate the visitors from each other. Each booth has three phones: one on the prisoner's side and two on the visitor's. I take my seat and wait another ten to fifteen minutes before three correctional officers bring Robert to our booth, lock him inside, then take off his handcuffs through a little slot in the door.
 
Visitation normally takes place while lunch is being served. Prisoners miss lunch when meeting with their visitors. Fortunately, there is a vending machine in the visitation area. Guests are allowed to put the change in the vending machines and press the button for the desired item. Visitors cannot, however, physically bring the food out of the machine. This is intended to make the hiding of "contraband," such as drugs, weapons, or escape plans, more difficult. The officer on duty physically takes the food from the machine, puts it in a white paper bag, and delivers that bag to a guard on the prisoners' side of the glass who then gives it to the prisoner.

Robert Gene Will was born on June 29, 1978 in Houston's Harris County, famous for handing out more death sentences than any other county in the country. With blonde-hair and blue-eyes, he stands at six feet tall and weighs just under 200 lbs. He has that Vanilla Ice look that makes adolescent girls squeal. Robert has prominent cheekbones and a toothy smile. Tattoos of women, grim reapers, and gang insignia cover his arms. He calls them "stupid tattoos," left over from his adolescence. With the exception of a brief handshake with another prisoner who had been given his execution date, Robert has not touched another person since he was first sentenced to death two years ago. "Regardless of how 'hard' anyone here thinks he is," he says, "everyone craves affection and love." For his size, Robert is surprisingly soft-spoken.
 
During our meeting, Robert told me about his family. He told me that his mother, Debbie, worked as a meat wrapper and his father worked occasionally as a mechanic when they married in 1978. His father had a serious heroin problem and abused Robert's mother. When his mother decided to file for divorce, Robert's father kidnapped him and didn't return for almost two weeks. When Robert was ten years old, his father was murdered.

After the murder, Debbie took Robert and his younger sister Kristina to live with her parents. Around this time, Debbie's brother Daniel told her and other members of the family that he had repeatedly sexually abused Robert between the ages of four and twelve years old. He also admitted to giving Robert alcohol and drugs during this period.
 
Debbie finally moved out of her parents' house and got her own place in Spring, Texas. While she was working she was injured on the job and spent two years bedridden. During this time, she lived from worker's compensation. She got into debt and had to move two or three times.
 
Robert never did very well in school. On his report cards, his teachers agreed that he was a "very smart boy and if it weren't for all his absences and the fact that he rarely turned in his work, he probably could have been at the top of his class." When he was seventeen, he started getting in trouble while living with his mother. He was arrested and put on probation for unauthorized use of a motor vehicle. While on probation, he was charged with aggravated robbery. As a result, Robert went to jail and spent a year and a half at boot camp, where he excelled and became a squadron leader. After boot camp he wanted to join the military but was rejected because of his record and instead enrolled in Houston Community College, where he had a grade point average of 3.43. He dropped out after his first year, and began working as a locksmith and as a vehicle repossessor. His various employers all said Robert was a good worker and a nice kid.
 
Two years later Robert got involved with Brenda Venegas. He met her in 1998, when she was pregnant and dating a man named George who physically abused her. Brenda had been trying to get him out of her life, and Robert made sure George understood that he wasn't welcome. Robert took on the responsibility of taking her to doctor's appointments, even to the point of holding her hand when the baby was finally born. They remained friends until about a year later, when their relationship turned romantic. She gave birth to their son, Robert Angel Will, whom Robert considers his greatest source of pride. Robert told me Brenda was a wonderful mother until he was sentenced to death. Then she "just kind of freaked out." Brenda left town and one of Robert's uncles took custody of the baby.

Currently, the wife and parents of Deputy Barrett Hill, the police officer Robert was convicted of murdering, are suing Robert for ten million dollars. Hill's family received a temporary court order that prevented Robert from having access to money in his prisoner account. This means he cannot buy stationery, envelopes, stamps, and soap. Barrett Hill's mother was quoted in the Houston Chronicle as having said, "Let's make these guys miserable. Prison isn't enough."

* SENTENCING PHASE 
* OVERVIEW OF THE DEATH PENALTY IN THE UNITED STATES
* ROBERT WILL AND THE DEBATE OVER THE DEATH 
  PENALTY
* WRONGFUL CONVICTION