BATON ROUGE — More than 50 miles from Louisiana’s death row, one of its residents’ cousins blinked back tears as she stood with her back to the Governor’s Mansion.
Bridget “Nicki” Scott described her cousin, Jessie Hoffman Jr., as a winsome high school football player, whom their family thought might even go pro someday.
Instead, his execution — and the state’s first by nitrogen gas — is scheduled in just a few days.
Scott was among more than a hundred people who gathered on Sunday near the stately governor’s residence to protest it.
“What they’re doing is committing murder. You’re committing murder, with a title,” she said of the state’s plans to put her relative to death.
A federal judge’s order earlier this month had temporarily blocked Hoffman’s execution, citing the need to scrutinize the gas method, which has only been used by Alabama and is controversial.
The method might cause “terror and psychological pain” and could potentially violate Hoffman’s Constitutional rights, the judge, Shelly Dick, explained in a ruling on March 11.
But in a ruling late Friday night, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals disagreed, pointing to various legal precedents and suggesting in an opinion that the lower court had “overstep[ped].”
“In sum, the district court didn’t just get the legal analysis wrong — it turned the Constitution on its head, by relying on an indisputably more painful [firing squad] method of execution as its proposed alternative,” circuit judge James C. Ho wrote.
Hoffman’s legal team plans to appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, seeking a stay of execution, one of his attorneys said in a statement late Friday. But the series of dramatic turns in the case has reset the stage for Louisiana’s first execution in 15 years.
Over the weekend, that brought death penalty opponents nearly to Gov. Jeff Landry’s doorstep as they rallied, sang and rang an enormous “Delaware Bell” to object to the state’s plans and call attention to Hoffman’s case.
Some donned black armbands, and others carried signs with slogans like “WWJE? Who Would Jesus Execute?” and “Gov. Landry: You cannot be pro-life and pro-death.”
It was unclear if Louisiana’s First Family was home, and the governor’s aides didn’t immediately reply to emails Sunday evening asking if they were or if he had any response to the demonstration.
Landry has led the push to resume executions in Louisiana, announcing the finalized nitrogen gas protocol last month.
“I anticipate the national press will embellish on the feelings and interests of the violent death row murderers, we will continue to advocate for the innocent victims and the loved ones left behind,” he said in a statement at that time.
Hoffman was convicted in a case involving the 1996 rape and murder of Mary “Molly” Elliot, an advertising executive. Now 46, he was 18 at the time of the crime, per reports. His advocates have described him as a changed person who is dedicated to his Buddhist practice.
Speakers calling to stop his execution on Sunday include noted death penalty abolitionist Sister Helen Prejean, who has been outspoken in criticisms of both the death penalty generally and the nitrogen gas method.
At the rally, she connected capital punishment to the state’s legacy of slavery and lynchings. She called on supporters to start conversations about the death penalty, which is often shrouded in secrecy.
People “don’t have a deep, deep set commitment for executions. They never think about it. They don’t reflect on it,” Prejean said.
Participants at the event included advocates from a spectrum of organizations, a number of public defense attorneys and people like Courtney Wilson, a semi-retired civil rights attorney who was attending with a friend from his New Orleans church.
“I ordinarily don’t mix church and state, but I will tell you that while there may be a Constitutional way to kill somebody — which I doubt — I am certain there is no Christian way to do it,” he said.
Another participant, Ellen Williams of St. Francisville, said she attended to bring attention to “the horrors of the death penalty.”
From her hometown, she said the Louisiana State Penitentiary, the prison commonly called Angola, is “in my backyard.” She visits a man serving a life sentence there and another on death row.
“I was there last month and it was very heavy indeed,” she said. “Nobody wants to do this. It’s just the tension with the other offenders, the officers who are going to be complicit in this — it’s terrible.”
Bill Quigley, a longtime attorney associated with Loyola University New Orleans who recently enrolled as part of Hoffman’s legal team, provided an update to the group, explaining that they were now trying to gain the right to be present if the execution proceeds.
The state, thus far, has not granted that permission, which Hoffman’s attorneys have challenged in court and Quigley said is different from some other executions and other states’ practices. Decades ago, Quigley said he was present for a client’s execution.
Hoffman’s advocates need that access “to be able to tell the truth” about the execution, Quigley said.
“We need to be able to tell honestly what is happening, and what is going on in our names in Louisiana,” he said.
This story was produced by the Gulf States Newsroom, a collaboration between Mississippi Public Broadcasting, WBHM in Alabama, WWNO and WRKF in Louisiana and NPR.