John Henry Ramirez did not want to be executed, even though he knew why many Texans-including the state attorney general and the head of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ)-wanted him to die.
One night in July 2004, Ramirez, who smoked cocaine, marijuana, and vodka, drove around Corpus Christi to find someone to rob so that he could buy more drugs. He saw Pablo Castro taking out the trash outside the convenience store where he worked. Ramirez stabbed Castro, the 45-year-old father of nine children, 29 times and stole $1.25 from his pocket.
Castro died, Ramirez was arrested, convicted of murder, and sentenced to death. Ramirez, 37, has never claimed to be innocent. In the 2008 trial, he confessed to the murder. During the punishment stage, he instructed his lawyers to stop trying to save him, but just read Psalm 51:3 aloud: “Because I confessed my sins, my sins are always in me. In front of him.” Today he knew he was destined to die.
All Ramirez wants is his spiritual adviser Dana Moore, who is the senior pastor of the Second Baptist Church in Corpus Christi. He met him on death row in 2016. When he met his maker, he could Standing by his side.
Ramirez hopes Moore can touch him and pray loudly with him. But this summer, Texas rejected Ramirez’s request and prepared to execute him. He appealed this decision, and on September 8, when he was originally scheduled to die, the U.S.
Supreme Court stopped the execution of the death penalty until it officially ruled on a problem that has plagued the body for years: we are against those who have been sentenced to death. What do people owe? Die the moment they die? Ramirez didn’t think he asked too much. In fact, for the past four years, the State of Texas allowed ministers to enter the execution room and do what he requested.
Beginning in 1982, when Texas resumed executions of prisoners with the approval of the Supreme Court (which ruled that the death penalty was unconstitutional ten years ago), the TDCJ allowed state-employed ministers to appear in the death penalty room-they prayed loudly as they worked Part of them, were convicted and acted on them.
Pastor Carroll Pickett, who served as TDCJ pastor from 1980 to 1995, stood beside the 95 dead, usually placing his hands on their right legs. His successor, Jim Brazzil, did the same thing, just below the knee. “I usually squeeze them,” he said in 2000, “let them know I was there.” Since 1982, Texas has executed 573 criminals, and there has never been a chaos caused by a minister. -This proves the efficiency and control of the people running the system.