1. 1. How long have you lived in Huntsville?

Virginia: I moved here with my parents when I was in second grade. But my grandfather was here before that, and we came up from Houston to visit often. My father was in the Air Force during Korea. That took us away for long stretches.

David: As a married couple, we have lived in Huntsville during two periods: from 1983 to 1990, then again from 1998 to the present.

2. What is it like living in a town named one of the 35 ideal communities to live in by Money Magazine and also known as the death penalty capital of the United States?

David: For Virginia and me, the presence of the execution chamber in the center of town — and of the ubiquitous prison culture in the area — does cast a pall over life here. But an almost invisible one.

Virginia: Executions are just not discussed here. The subject is too volatile. It's like sex or politics used to be. People just don't go there. For one thing, a good part of the population works for the prison system in some capacity.

David: In all other ways, living in Huntsville is pleasant. It's attractive, surrounded by national forest. Its university provides a varied cultural ambience — and has a good library, which is very important to writers!

3. How significant of a presence does the prison system have in Huntsville?

David: The Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ) is headquartered in Huntsville — the only state agency not headquartered in Austin, the state capital. The Huntsville unit — the "Walls," where the execution chamber is located — is only two blocks off the downtown square and next door to the First Baptist Church. Several other large units, each holding thousands of offenders, surround the town. The men in white, as prisoners are sometimes called, can often be seen working along the local highways or around state offices or in the fields. Everywhere you go on any given day, you come upon gray-uniformed Correctional Officers (guards) shopping or eating at restaurants or going to and from work.

Virginia: Any unoccupied strip mall or building is soon taken over by TDCJ's ever-expanding presence.

4. Is capital punishment as a moral issue debated much in Huntsville?

Virginia: No. As the book says, the vast majority of Huntsville citizens undoubtedly support the death penalty, just as do the majority of citizens across the United States — around 78%.

David: There may be classroom debates in the high school and at the university, but I've never heard any of my colleagues at the university mention it.

Virginia: Of course, Texas has no life-without-parole sentence. It's either death or a sentence that may result in the convicted murderer being released after ten years. Since we came back to Huntsville in 1998, there's been only one public forum on the issue that I know of. I went, but most of the people in the auditorium — which was full, by the way — were from out of town.

David: A few members of our church, St. Stephen's Episcopal, regularly discuss the issue as an offshoot of the liturgy we conduct at the time of each execution. As our book makes clear, there are Huntsville citizens who oppose the death penalty on moral grounds, but they are probably in the minority.

5. Most books about capital punishment focus on the death row inmates or on the issue of capital punishment. Why did you decide to shift that focus?

Virginia: Well, as you say, that's what most books on the topic focus on. Why repeat their work? I don't think people pay enough attention to what the stakes are for "free world" citizens. Whether it's nuclear waste or execution chambers, no one wants it in their backyard! Yet these death sentences are carried out in the name of the state's citizens.

David: We wanted the depth and diversity of the death penalty's effects in a community to get a hearing, primarily through the variety of voices of those individuals directly affected. There are at least twenty-three different points of view in the book — guards, wardens, chaplains, professors, a forensic psychologist, parents of both offenders and murder victims.

6. Did the people you spoke to feel free to speak their minds? Did they welcome the chance for discussion?

David: Yes, we encountered no reluctance, no holding back. We changed the names of some who felt it wiser to do that.

Virginia: But I do not recall being asked to do that as a condition of talking to us. And I have heard reporters and film crews say that TDCJ is much more forthcoming and transparent than, say, California.

David: Discussions were easy and penetrating in every instance. We didn't try to guide the conversation in any particular direction but just let people tell their story.

7. Has your view of the prison culture and of capital punishment changed since you resettled in Huntsville, or since you wrote the book?

David: I think that we both — Virginia and I — have always been opposed to the death penalty as an abstraction. But everybody has an opinion. So what? We learned from people for whom the issue is not an abstraction; it's an everyday reality. We are much more sensitive now to how hard and demanding the work is for personnel in a prison system and how much diversity there is in the prison culture.

Virginia: And we learned a lot about the law. How grand juries are chosen — not exactly a democratic process! Also, how much power the district attorney has, and thus how important it is to have a good one — which I believe we do in our county. People in general don't understand how the system works. We certainly didn't until we wrote this book.

8. What happens in Huntsville on an execution day?

David: For the most part, nothing exceptional. Executions take place at 6:00 p.m. when most people are sitting down to their evening meal or going to their kid's Little League game. Probably most Huntsville citizens give little thought to the event until the next day when they may see the story in the local paper describing the condemned person's last words and last meal, the time of death, and a brief account of the crime. One exception is a College of Criminal Justice faculty member who opposes the death penalty and always goes to the Walls unit and stands vigil outside during the execution. Also, several members of our congregation gather at the church for a liturgy. We pray for everyone involved in the event — the families of both the victim and the condemned man, the guards, all the way up to the Board of Pardons and Parole and the governor.

Virginia: A lot depends on whether the crime was high profile. Karla Faye Tucker's drew major attention to the town, as did Gary Graham's. That one brought in the Black Panthers and all kinds of advocacy groups, both for and against the execution. All the downtown shops closed on day of the execution, afraid of a riot. Most executions, however, attract no outside attention at all.

9. Are reporters allowed to view the actual execution?

Virginia: Yes, on a limited basis. There can be two print journalists and, I think, one or two broadcast journalists. The local newspaper always has someone there. Our book contains an interview with a young reporter who witnessed over a hundred executions while she was still a student at the university.

David: Outside, of course, there are usually a few reporters on hand to get what comments they can from victims' families and the family of the executed as they leave the Walls.

10. What about those families? Do the victims' families seem satisfied that justice has been done?

David: According to the prison chaplain we interviewed, some do and some don't. At least initially. A mother whose daughter was raped and killed pulled out of certain victims' rights groups because she said for the most part they were committed to stoking their members' anger. They keep the wound open, but what she needed was healing. As she said, "I wanted my life back."

Virginia: And she eventually found healing in a new program TDCJ had just instituted, Victim-Offender Mediation. At first, it was available only to Death Row inmates. The victim's family member has to make the initial request. A trained counselor works with both the victim's family member and the offender separately. Both sides have to make some headway dealing with their own difficulties first, before they are brought together. It has proved so successful that they are now expanding the program to other crimes.

David: Surprisingly, it is the offender who most wants to go through with it. They have a waiting list a mile long.

Virginia: The offenders don't get any perks for participating and no time off their sentences. But both the offenders and the victim's family member generally experience a kind of reconciliation that changes them forever. And that is, after all, the greatest sort of miracle.