EXTREMELY SENSITIVE CONTENT – 18+ ONLY
This article discusses sensitive historical events related to execution and capital punishment, including descriptions of final moments and judicial violence. The content is presented for educational purposes only, to foster understanding of the past and encourage reflection on how societies can address justice and human rights. It does not endorse or glorify any form of violence.
On January 17, 1977, Gary Gilmore, a convicted murderer, became the first person to be executed in the United States after the reinstatement of the death penalty. His death by firing squad at Utah State Prison marked a grim milestone in American history. But what were the final hours like for the man whose case reignited a fierce national debate on capital punishment?
In this story, we’ll walk you through the last 24 hours of Gary Gilmore’s life, uncovering the chilling details of his final moments, his last conversations, and the choices he made as he faced his execution. From his troubled upbringing and violent crimes to his eerie calm in the face of death, this is a look at the closing chapter of a man whose story left an indelible mark on American justice.
Gary Mark Gilmore’s path to the execution chamber was shaped by a life of hardship and crime. Born on December 4, 1940, in McCamey, Texas, to an alcoholic father and a strict Mormon mother, Gilmore endured abuse and instability, running away at 14 and spending much of his youth in reform schools. By adulthood, he was a habitual criminal, serving time for armed robbery and assault. Released in 1976, he moved to Provo, Utah, where he murdered motel manager Ben Bushnell and gas station attendant Max Jensen during robberies—crimes for which he was convicted and sentenced to death. Gilmore’s refusal of appeals and demand to die made him a media sensation, inspiring Norman Mailer’s Pulitzer-winning book The Executioner’s Song.
The last 24 hours began on January 16, 1977, amid legal suspense. Gilmore’s execution had been delayed multiple times by anti-death penalty advocates, but the U.S. Supreme Court lifted the final stay that morning. Resigned to his fate, Gilmore spent the day in Utah State Prison, Draper, preparing mentally and spiritually.
Afternoon of January 16: Reflection and Visits Gilmore met with his lawyers, Ronald Stanger and Robert Moody, who had fought stays against his wishes. He reiterated his desire to die, saying, “I just want it over.” He received visits from family, including brothers Frank Jr. and Mikal (who later wrote about the experience), and uncle Vern Damico. Conversations mixed remorse with defiance; Gilmore expressed regret for the pain caused but maintained his crimes were “karma.” He also spoke with girlfriend Nicole Barrett, whose suicide attempt with him in November 1976 (both survived) underscored his turbulent relationships. Prison officials allowed a Catholic priest, Father Thomas Meersman, to administer last rites, though Gilmore wasn’t devout—he quipped about heaven and hell.
Evening: The “Death Watch” Party As night fell, Gilmore requested—and was granted—an informal gathering in the prison chapel with about 20 people, including family, friends, lawyers, and media (under strict rules). The atmosphere was surreal: Gilmore joked, sang songs like “Don’t Take Your Guns to Town” by Johnny Cash, and shared snacks (he skipped a formal last meal of steak, opting for coffee and sandwiches). Smuggled whiskey loosened the mood; he toasted “to death” and discussed philosophy. A phone call from Johnny Cash offered support, but Gilmore remained calm, telling Mikal, “There will be a lot of peace when I’m gone.” Legal teams monitored for last-minute stays, but none came after the Supreme Court’s denial.
Midnight to Dawn, January 17: Isolation and Preparation Around midnight, the party ended; Gilmore was moved to a holding cell near the execution site—an abandoned cannery. He slept fitfully, waking for coffee and cigarettes. At 5:00 a.m., Father Meersman visited again for confession and communion. Gilmore’s final words to him: “Dominus vobiscum” (The Lord be with you). Dressed in black pants and white T-shirt, he was strapped to a wooden chair at 7:40 a.m., a black hood over his head, heart target pinned. Witnesses, including media, observed from behind glass. Asked for last words, he said, “Let’s do it”—later inspiring Nike’s slogan. At 8:05 a.m., four riflemen (one with blank) fired from 20 feet; bullets shredded his heart. Pronounced dead at 8:07 a.m., his body was autopsied and cremated, ashes scattered over Spanish Fork Canyon per his wish.
Gilmore’s execution ended the U.S. moratorium, paving the way for over 1,500 since. It sparked debates on volunteerism in death penalty cases and inspired cultural works.
Gary Gilmore’s final 24 hours—a mix of farewells, defiance, and eerie tranquility—reflected a man weary of life, choosing death over endless appeals. His calm acceptance amid a media storm reignited capital punishment debates, questioning its morality and humanity. By reflecting objectively, we see how personal despair and systemic flaws intersect, urging reforms in justice and mental health. Gilmore’s legacy reminds us to prioritize prevention over punishment, fostering compassionate societies.
Sources
Wikipedia: “Gary Gilmore”
Britannica: “Gary Gilmore | American murderer”
History.com: “Gary Gilmore executed by firing squad”
The Guardian: “Gary Gilmore: The man who insisted on being executed” (2017)
New York Times: “Gilmore Executed by Firing Squad” (1977 archive)
Norman Mailer: “The Executioner’s Song” (1979)
Mikal Gilmore: “Shot in the Heart” (1994)
Smithsonian Magazine: “The Execution That Jump-Started the Modern Death Penalty Debate”
Utah Department of Corrections: Historical records on Gilmore execution
Additional historical references from academic sources on U.S. capital punishment.