The Women of Death Row

Since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976, the United States has executed over 1,500 people — but only 17 of them have been women. In this episode, we walk cell-by-cell through their stories. The crimes. The trials. The years spent on death row. And, ultimately, the moments the state said it was time to die.

From Velma Barfield to Lisa Montgomery, we examine not just what they did — but who they were. And we ask: Does gender change the way we see justice? Or does justice demand that we don’t look away?

One by one, we tell the final stories of the women the state could not — or would not — save.

Transcript

In Episode 56, we told the story of Anthony Chebatoris — the last person to be executed in the state of Michigan.

It was 1938. Chebatoris was a career criminal who fatally shot a man during a failed bank robbery in Midland. Michigan had already abolished the death penalty at the state level — but because the bank was federally insured, his case was prosecuted under federal law. That technicality sealed his fate. He was hanged at FCI Milan, becoming the first and only person executed in Michigan in the modern era.

At the time, it was a national story. And now, nearly 90 years later, the death penalty is again making headlines.

Only this time, it’s about how often — and how fast — it’s being carried out.

As of this recording, the state of Florida just carried out its 19th execution of 2025, more than any other state this year. And across the country, momentum behind capital punishment seems to be building again after years of decline.

That brings us to today’s episode.

We’re not talking about laws or court rulings. We’re not debating guilt or innocence. Today, we’re talking about something even more primal:

How does it make you feel — when the person scheduled to die… is a woman?

Does her gender change your view of the crime? The punishment? The system?

Does it make you hesitate?

Because for most of the modern era, executions in the U.S. have been overwhelmingly male. The death chamber was seen as a man’s fate. But since 1976, seventeen women have been executed — each with their own story, their own choices, and their own final moments.

And now, more are waiting.

So today, we’re revisiting each of those women. Not to sensationalize their crimes. Not to excuse them either. But to ask a deeper question:

When it comes to the death penalty… is equal treatment justice? Or is it something else entirely?

Let’s begin.

Welcome to Year Five of the Curator135 Podcast. My name is Nathan Olli and this, is Episode 97, The Women of Death Row.  

In November of 1984, a 52-year-old grandmother named Velma Barfield became the first woman executed in the United States since 1962, and the first woman to be executed after the death penalty was reinstated in 1976.

Her story began like many others — in a small Southern town. Velma was a churchgoing woman, a caregiver to the elderly, and a mother. But beneath that gentle exterior was a chilling secret: she was a serial poisoner.

In 1978, her fiancé Stuart Taylor suddenly fell ill and died. An autopsy revealed he’d been poisoned with arsenic. When police started digging, they found a trail of bodies — including Velma’s own mother, and several elderly patients she'd cared for. All had died under suspicious circumstances. And all had something in common: Velma had access to their food, and their trust. She would later admit to at least four murders, and hinted at more.

After her conviction, Velma Barfield spent six years on North Carolina’s death row. And in that time, she underwent what many called a spiritual transformation. She became a born-again Christian, exchanged letters with Billy Graham, and even ministered to other inmates.

On November 2, 1984, Velma Barfield was led to the death chamber at Central Prison in Raleigh. She declined a formal last meal and instead asked for Cheez Doodles and a Coke from the vending machine. Her final words were: “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I ask forgiveness.”

Velma became the first woman executed by lethal injection in U.S. history. Her death sparked protests outside the prison and debates across the country. Was she a remorseless killer hiding behind faith? Or a broken woman who found redemption too late?

Karla Faye Tucker was executed in Texas on February 3, 1998, becoming the first woman put to death in the state since the Civil War, and one of the most publicly discussed executions in modern American history.

Her crime was brutal. In 1983, at just 23 years old, Karla and her boyfriend, Danny Garrett, broke into a Houston apartment intending to steal a motorcycle. Inside were Jerry Lynn Dean and Deborah Thornton. Karla attacked Dean with a pickaxe. When Deborah tried to intervene, Karla turned the weapon on her too. Both victims were murdered. Karla later admitted to striking the final blows and famously said she had an orgasm with each hit — a quote that would haunt her for years.

She was arrested, convicted, and sentenced to death in 1984. At first, she was defiant. But during her years on death row, Karla experienced a dramatic transformation. She became a devout Christian, studied the Bible, and expressed deep remorse for the murders. Her letters, interviews, and public appearances showed a woman who seemed drastically changed.

Her case drew global attention. Religious leaders, including Pat Robertson and Pope John Paul II, pleaded for clemency. Even the brother of one of her victims asked for her life to be spared. But then-Governor George W. Bush refused to intervene. He later said he was unconvinced her conversion should outweigh her crime.

On the night of her execution, Karla was calm and smiling. Her last words were filled with love and forgiveness. She looked at the victim’s family and said, “I am so sorry. I hope God will give you peace with this.”

Karla Faye Tucker was 38 years old when she died by lethal injection. Her execution sparked an intense national conversation about redemption, the role of faith, and whether the death penalty should make room for change.

Judias “Judy” Buenoano was executed in Florida on March 30, 1998. She was the first woman executed in the state in 150 years — and earned the nickname “the Black Widow” for the cold and calculated way she killed the people closest to her.

Her crimes spanned more than a decade. In 1971, her husband, James Goodyear, died of what was believed to be natural causes. Nine years later, her boyfriend, Bobby Joe Morris, died suddenly in Colorado under suspicious circumstances. Then in 1980, her adult son Michael — who had recently become partially paralyzed — drowned during a canoe trip with Judy. Investigators began to look closer.

Authorities exhumed the bodies of Goodyear and Morris, and found both had been poisoned with arsenic. In 1983, Judy also tried to kill a new fiancé by planting a pipe bomb in his car. He survived, and that attempted murder opened the door to a broader investigation.

Judy was arrested and eventually convicted of killing her husband, her son, and attempting to kill her fiancé. Prosecutors argued she was motivated by greed, having taken out life insurance policies on each of them. Her calm, emotionless demeanor in court and lack of remorse unsettled many.

She spent over a decade on death row, maintaining her innocence. Her attorneys argued the evidence was circumstantial, but her appeals were denied.

On March 30, 1998, Judy Buenoano was executed in the electric chair at Florida State Prison. She was 54 years old. She declined to make a final statement.

In death, Judy left behind a chilling portrait — a woman who blended in, smiled easily, and used trust as a weapon.

Betty Lou Beets was executed in Texas on February 24, 2000. Her story is a complex one — involving five marriages, multiple allegations of abuse, and the murder of her fifth husband.

Betty Lou was born in North Carolina in 1937. She endured a traumatic childhood: her mother died when she was young, and she was deaf until age 3 due to untreated measles. At 15, she married for the first time. Over the years, she entered into five marriages, many of which were marked by allegations of domestic violence, alcoholism, and instability — sometimes on both sides.

In 1983, Betty reported her husband, Jimmy Don Beets, missing. She claimed he’d gone out fishing and never returned. His boat was found drifting on Lake Athens, suggesting a tragic accident. But no body turned up — and authorities began to suspect something more sinister.

Two years later, in 1985, a tip from Betty’s own adult son led police to search her property. There, they uncovered a grisly scene: the remains of Jimmy Don buried under a wishing well in the yard. Nearby, they also found the remains of another husband — Doyle Wayne Barker — who had gone missing in 1981.

Betty Lou Beets was arrested and charged with capital murder. Prosecutors argued that her motive was financial: she had taken out life insurance policies on Jimmy Don and stood to gain from his death. They described her as manipulative and methodical. Her defense team countered with claims of long-term abuse and trauma, painting her as a battered woman who snapped after years of violence.

Despite this, Betty was convicted and sentenced to death. Over the next 15 years on death row, her case became a rallying point for death penalty opponents. Her attorneys and activists argued that critical evidence about her history of domestic abuse had been withheld during trial — including police reports and witness statements. They also highlighted her mental health struggles and early-life trauma.

In the days before her execution, calls for clemency came from across the country. But Texas Governor George W. Bush refused to intervene.

On February 24, 2000, at age 62, Betty Lou Beets was executed by lethal injection at the Huntsville Unit in Texas. She made no final statement.

Her case remains controversial — not only because of the murders, but because of the ongoing debate it provoked about domestic violence, trauma, and how the justice system treats women who kill.

Christina Marie Riggs was executed in Arkansas on May 2, 2000. She was 28 years old — and the first woman executed in the state in over 150 years.

Christina had worked as a licensed practical nurse and was a single mother of two young children. But behind closed doors, she struggled with deep depression, post-traumatic stress, and suicidal thoughts, some stemming from a past sexual assault during her time in the Air Force.

In November 1997, Christina gave her children — Justin, age 5, and Shelby, age 2 — high doses of potassium chloride and amitriptyline, drugs she had access to from her nursing job. When that didn’t work as planned, she smothered them. She then attempted suicide by injecting herself with the same drugs, but she survived and called 911.

Riggs confessed to the murders immediately. She told authorities she wanted to die and couldn’t leave her children behind in what she saw as a cruel world. The case shocked the public — not just because of the killings, but because of how quickly Christina seemed to accept her fate.

She was sentenced to death in 1998. Christina waived most of her appeals and asked for her execution to be carried out swiftly. In her final statements, she expressed remorse and said she had made peace with God.

On May 2, 2000, Christina Marie Riggs was executed by lethal injection at the Cummins Unit in Arkansas. Her last words were brief: she thanked those who supported her and apologized to those she had hurt.

Her case raised difficult questions — about mental illness, maternal filicide, and the state’s role in executing someone who no longer wanted to live.

Wanda Jean Allen was executed by the state of Oklahoma on January 11, 2001 — becoming the first Black woman executed in the United States since 1954, and the first woman executed in Oklahoma since statehood.

Her story is as tragic as it is complex.

Born in 1959, Wanda Jean grew up in a poor and abusive household in Oklahoma City. She had an IQ in the 60s and showed signs of brain damage from an early age — the result of a head injury suffered as a teenager. These cognitive impairments were never presented to the jury during her trial, something that would become a major point of controversy later on.

In 1981, Wanda Jean was convicted of manslaughter after shooting and killing a woman during an argument. She served about four years in prison and was released in 1985.

Then, in 1988, she was arrested again — this time for the murder of her longtime girlfriend, Gloria Leathers. The two women had a volatile relationship, and on the day of the murder, an argument outside a police station escalated. Wanda Jean pulled a gun from her purse and shot Gloria in the abdomen. Gloria died from her injuries, and Wanda Jean was charged with first-degree murder.

She was convicted in 1989 and sentenced to death. Over the years, her defense team argued that she hadn’t received adequate legal representation. They also claimed the prosecution had failed to disclose Wanda Jean’s mental impairments, which could’ve influenced the jury's decision.

While on death row, Wanda Jean was described as calm, deeply religious, and repentant. Advocates for her clemency included religious leaders, mental health professionals, and even members of international human rights groups — all citing her low IQ and traumatic background.

But Oklahoma Governor Frank Keating denied clemency.

Wanda Jean Allen was executed by lethal injection at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary. She was 41 years old. Her final words were spoken directly to Gloria’s family. She said, “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.”

Her execution reignited debates about executing individuals with intellectual disabilities and the intersection of race, gender, and justice.

Marilyn Kay Plantz was executed in Oklahoma on May 1, 2001. She was 40 years old — and the second woman executed in the state that year.

The crime that sent her to death row was brutal and premeditated.

In 1988, Marilyn plotted to have her husband, James Plantz, killed for a $300,000 life insurance policy. She enlisted the help of her 18-year-old boyfriend, Clifford Bryson, and his friend, Clinton McKimble. The plan was cold: wait for James to come home from work, ambush him, and make it look like a robbery gone wrong.

When James entered the house that night, Bryson and McKimble attacked him with a baseball bat — beating him severely. After the assault, the three loaded his barely conscious body into his pickup truck, drove him to a secluded spot, and set the vehicle on fire with James still inside.

James Plantz died from the combination of head trauma and burns.

All three were arrested. Bryson and McKimble received life sentences. Marilyn, however, was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death in 1989. Prosecutors painted her as the mastermind — calm, calculating, and motivated by greed.

Over the next 12 years, she remained on death row. Her appeals centered on her troubled past, claims of coercion, and whether she had received proper legal representation. But none were successful.

On May 1, 2001, Marilyn Kay Plantz was executed by lethal injection at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester. In her final moments, she apologized to her children and asked for forgiveness. She offered no final words to the media or to the victim’s family.

Lois Nadean Smith was executed in Oklahoma on December 4, 2001. At 61 years old, she was the oldest woman to be executed in the United States since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976.

Her crime was shockingly personal.

On July 4th, 1982, in Del City, Oklahoma, Lois murdered her son’s 21-year-old ex-girlfriend, Cindy Baillie. The two women had reportedly argued in the past, and tensions had boiled over after Cindy accused Lois’s son of stealing her car. That night, under the influence of alcohol and fueled by rage, Lois forced Cindy into a car at gunpoint, drove her to a secluded area, and brutally shot her nine times with two different guns.

The crime was calculated and vicious. Witnesses later testified that Lois taunted and berated Cindy in the final moments before killing her. A chilling detail: Lois reportedly told Cindy she was going to teach her “a lesson in respect.”

She was arrested shortly after and sentenced to death in 1983. Over the next 18 years, her legal team filed multiple appeals, raising questions about her mental health and whether her age should spare her from execution. But the courts upheld her sentence.

In prison, Lois was known to be quiet and deeply religious. She reportedly spent her time reading the Bible and attending services. But despite her attempts at rehabilitation, the crime had left a lasting impression on both the courts and the public.

On the evening of her execution, Lois declined to make a final statement. She received a lethal injection at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary and was pronounced dead at 9:16 p.m.

Her execution marked the third for a woman in Oklahoma that year — a startling statistic for a state not typically known for executing female inmates. It was a grim end to a life defined, in the public's eyes, by one devastating act of violence.

Lynda Lyon Block was a staunch anti-government extremist. By the time she was arrested, she'd long since renounced her U.S. citizenship and was living in a state of self-declared sovereignty alongside her common-law husband, George Sibley. The two were deeply entrenched in anti-establishment ideologies, particularly aimed at law enforcement and the judicial system.

Their lives took a violent turn on October 4th, 1993. The couple was living in a car behind a shopping center in Elmore County, Alabama. They were approached by a good Samaritan—Sibley’s son from a previous relationship—who was trying to help with a domestic situation. That encounter ultimately led to a confrontation with Sergeant Roger Motley of the Opelika Police Department.

When Sgt. Motley approached them for a routine welfare check, things escalated quickly. Sibley opened fire. A shootout ensued in a nearby parking lot. Lynda joined in, using her own handgun. Sgt. Motley was fatally shot in the head. He died at just 33 years old.

Lynda and George fled the scene and were caught soon after in Georgia. They were extradited back to Alabama and tried separately for the officer’s murder. George Sibley received a death sentence, and so did Lynda.

While on death row, Lynda remained unrepentant. She openly mocked the court and the justice system. In interviews, she doubled down on her belief that the government had no authority over her. At her sentencing, she told the judge: “I do not recognize the United States government, nor the State of Alabama.”

Lynda was executed by electric chair on May 10, 2002, at Holman Correctional Facility. She was 54 years old. Alabama offered her the choice of lethal injection or electrocution, and she chose the latter. It marked the last time Alabama used the electric chair, ending an era in the state’s capital punishment history.

Her execution drew attention for more than just its method. Lynda Lyon Block was the first woman executed in Alabama since 1957. And much like her life, her death became a political statement. She had no final words. No apologies. Just a defiant silence.

Aileen Wuornos is one of the most infamous women ever executed in the United States — widely recognized as the country’s first female serial killer. Her story, told through headlines and in Hollywood, is sensational. But the real story is deeper — a life marked by trauma, survival, and rage.

She was born in 1956 in Michigan. Her childhood was harsh from the beginning. Her father was convicted of crimes against children and died while incarcerated. Her mother abandoned her and her brother, leaving them to be raised by their grandparents — a home later described as abusive and deeply unstable.

By her early teens, Aileen had already begun trading sex for food and money. She became pregnant at 14 and was forced to give the baby up for adoption. Not long after, she was homeless — surviving on her own by hitchhiking, panhandling, and doing sex work. It was a path that would carry her through most of her adult life.

Between 1989 and 1990, Aileen shot and killed seven men across Florida. Her first known victim, Richard Mallory, had a criminal history of his own. Aileen said she killed him in self-defense. But investigators quickly noticed a pattern. The victims were similar — middle-aged men, all found shot with the same weapon, and most last seen offering Aileen a ride.

Eventually, Aileen confessed to the murders. Her longtime partner, Tyria Moore, testified against her in exchange for immunity. Aileen’s story shifted over time — from claiming self-defense to admitting that some of the killings were robberies.

She was convicted of six murders and sentenced to death. Her behavior during her trials was erratic. Mental health experts later diagnosed her with multiple personality disorders and signs of serious psychological trauma. Even so, she was found competent and refused to continue appealing her sentence.

Aileen spent over a decade on death row. During that time, she gave haunting interviews and made strange accusations — alleging that prison officials were trying to drive her insane. In the final year of her life, she dismissed her lawyers and asked the state to proceed with her execution.

On October 9, 2002, Aileen Wuornos was executed by lethal injection in Florida. She declined a formal last meal and requested only coffee. Her final statement was characteristically bizarre: “I’m sailing with the rock, and I’ll be back, like Independence Day, with Jesus.”

She was 46 years old.

Aileen's legacy remains divisive. Some saw her as a predator — violent and unrepentant. Others viewed her as a damaged woman shaped by a lifetime of abuse and trauma. Her life — and her death — became a symbol for the debate over capital punishment, mental health, and justice.

Frances Elaine Newton was executed in Texas on September 14, 2005, for the 1987 murders of her husband, Adrian, her 7-year-old son, Alton, and her 21-month-old daughter, Farrah. The victims were found shot to death in their Houston apartment.

Prosecutors argued that Newton killed her family for financial gain, noting she had taken out life insurance policies on each of the victims just months prior to the murders, naming herself as the sole beneficiary. The murder weapon—a .25 caliber pistol—was linked to Newton through a gun purchased by a man she was reportedly dating at the time.

Newton consistently maintained her innocence and claimed that an unknown drug dealer had committed the murders due to her husband's alleged debts. Her case drew significant public attention and advocacy from anti-death penalty groups, civil rights organizations, and even members of the clergy. They raised concerns about inadequate defense during her original trial and questioned the reliability of forensic evidence.

Despite multiple appeals and a 120-day reprieve granted in 2004 for further review of new ballistics testing, courts upheld her conviction. Frances Newton was the first African American woman executed in Texas since the state resumed capital punishment in 1982. She was 40 years old.

Teresa Lewis was executed in Virginia on September 23, 2010, for orchestrating the murders of her husband and stepson in 2002. She became the first woman executed in Virginia in nearly a century—and the first woman put to death in the United States in five years.

At the center of the case was a murder-for-hire plot. Teresa conspired with two younger men—Matthew Shallenberger and Rodney Fuller—to kill her husband, Julian Lewis, and his 25-year-old son, Charles. The motivation? Life insurance policies worth a combined total of $250,000.

Teresa had offered sex, money, and a place to stay in exchange for their cooperation. On the night of the murders, she left the door of the family trailer unlocked. Shallenberger and Fuller entered and shot both men as they slept. Julian died instantly. Charles survived for a short time and was able to speak to police before passing, though he never identified the shooters.

Prosecutors painted Teresa as the mastermind. At trial, she pled guilty, and a judge—not a jury—sentenced her to death. Both of the gunmen received life sentences.

Her execution was controversial. Defense attorneys and mental health advocates argued that Teresa had borderline intellectual functioning, with an IQ estimated around 72, and was easily manipulated. Shallenberger himself had written a letter stating that Teresa wasn’t capable of planning the crime on her own and that he had used her. That letter was discovered after his suicide in prison, and efforts were made to reopen the case, but appeals were ultimately denied.

On death row, Teresa became known for her religious conversion and expressions of remorse. She sang hymns, prayed with other inmates, and communicated regularly with supporters. Despite petitions from religious leaders, including the president of the European Union, her execution went forward as scheduled.

At 9:13 PM, she was pronounced dead by lethal injection at the Greensville Correctional Center. Teresa Lewis was 41 years old.

Kimberly McCarthy was executed in Texas on June 26, 2013, for the 1997 murder of her 71-year-old neighbor, Dorothy Booth. McCarthy became the 500th person executed in Texas since the state reinstated the death penalty in 1982 — a grim milestone in capital punishment history.

The crime was brutal. McCarthy, a former occupational therapist battling crack cocaine addiction, went to Booth’s home under the pretense of borrowing sugar. Once inside, she attacked the elderly woman with a knife and a candelabra, ultimately stabbing her to death. She then severed Booth’s finger to steal her wedding ring and took other valuables to pawn for drug money.

Investigators quickly connected McCarthy to the crime through Booth’s credit cards and fingerprints. At trial, prosecutors also introduced evidence suggesting McCarthy may have been responsible for two similar murders in the 1980s, though she was never formally charged in those cases.

McCarthy was convicted and sentenced to death in 1998. Over the next 15 years, her legal team filed numerous appeals, arguing that her trial had been tainted by racial bias — she was a Black woman convicted by an almost entirely white jury — and that mitigating evidence about her mental health and drug addiction was not fully presented.

Despite the appeals, the courts upheld her conviction.

On June 26, 2013, McCarthy was executed by lethal injection at the Huntsville Unit in Texas. She was 52 years old. In her final statement, she said, “This is not a loss. This is a win. You know where I'm going. I'm going home to be with Jesus.”

Her death reignited discussions around race, addiction, and whether Texas was relying too heavily on capital punishment.

Suzanne Basso was executed in Texas in 2014, making her the 14th woman executed in the U.S. since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976. Her case is one of the more horrifying examples of group abuse and torture leading to murder.

Suzanne and her co-defendants were convicted in the 1998 murder of 59-year-old Louis “Buddy” Musso, a mentally challenged man from New Jersey. Suzanne had lured Buddy to Texas with promises of marriage. Once he arrived, he was subjected to days of brutal torture—beaten, burned, and ultimately killed. The motive? Suzanne wanted to collect his life insurance policy.

Buddy’s injuries were so severe that the medical examiner compared his body to that of a car accident victim. At trial, prosecutors argued that Suzanne was the ringleader in the prolonged abuse and killing.

Basso maintained her innocence, claiming she was framed, and insisted she had nothing to do with Buddy’s death. Her defense attorneys raised concerns about her mental competence, citing delusions and low intellectual functioning. Still, multiple courts ruled that she was fit for execution.

In prison, Suzanne became known for her eccentric behavior, often telling staff that she was a princess or heiress, and she filed numerous legal motions claiming she had royal titles.

On February 5, 2014, Suzanne Basso was executed by lethal injection at the Texas State Penitentiary in Huntsville. She offered no final statement. She was 59 years old at the time of her death.

Basso’s execution reignited debates around mental illness, intellectual disability, and the use of the death penalty, particularly for women. She was one of the rare women to be executed in Texas and the only woman executed in the United States that year.

Lisa Coleman was executed by the state of Texas on September 17, 2014. She was 38 years old at the time of her death and became the ninth woman executed in Texas since 1976.

The crime that led to her conviction was the tragic and deeply disturbing death of a 9-year-old boy named Davontae Williams. He was the son of Marcella Williams—Lisa’s romantic partner. The prosecution described the couple’s home as a place of systematic abuse and cruelty.

Davontae was found dead in July of 2004, severely malnourished, covered in bruises, and weighing just 36 pounds at the time of his death—about half the average weight for his age. His body showed signs of prolonged starvation and repeated physical abuse. Prosecutors argued that Lisa and Marcella had essentially imprisoned the boy, denying him food, and beating him regularly.

The autopsy revealed scars, ligature marks, and signs of old and new injuries. The cause of death was ruled as a combination of malnutrition and abuse. Police found that Davontae had been tied up with cords and kept in a pantry or closet in the home.

Marcella Williams later pled guilty and received a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Lisa Coleman, however, was sentenced to death.

Lisa’s defense team argued that the case should have been tried as a case of injury to a child, not capital murder. They also contended that her sentence was a product of an overzealous prosecution that used the kidnapping charge—stemming from Davontae’s confinement—as the aggravating factor necessary for the death penalty under Texas law.

Coleman’s case drew attention from mental health and anti-death penalty advocates. Her lawyers raised issues regarding her own traumatic childhood, alleging she was abused and neglected, and that she suffered from intellectual disabilities and mental illness. Despite these arguments, her appeals were ultimately unsuccessful.

On death row, Lisa was described as quiet and often withdrawn. She spent her final years in Gatesville, Texas, rarely drawing public attention beyond legal filings and advocacy from capital punishment opponents.

On the night of her execution, Lisa made no public final statement, though witnesses said she mouthed the words “I’m sorry” before receiving the lethal injection. She was pronounced dead at 6:24 p.m.

Her execution sparked debate about the use of capital punishment in cases of child abuse and neglect, as well as the treatment of LGBTQ individuals in the justice system. Coleman was one of very few openly lesbian women to face execution in the United States.

Kelly Renee Gissendaner was executed in Georgia on September 30, 2015, for orchestrating the 1997 murder of her husband, Douglas Gissendaner. She was the only woman on Georgia’s death row at the time and became the first woman executed in the state in 70 years.

Kelly didn’t carry out the murder herself. Instead, she convinced her boyfriend, Gregory Owen, to kill her husband. The motive was allegedly to collect life insurance money and gain custody of their children. On the night of the murder, Kelly lured Douglas to a remote area under false pretenses. There, Owen ambushed him—beating him, stabbing him repeatedly, and leaving his body in the woods.

Owen later confessed, struck a plea deal, and was sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole after 25 years. Kelly, who refused a plea and went to trial, received the death penalty—largely because the jury viewed her as the mastermind behind the plot.

During her years on death row, Kelly experienced a profound transformation. She earned a theology degree through a prison education program run by Emory University. She became a spiritual leader to other inmates, mentoring and counseling women who were struggling in prison.

Her rehabilitation drew national and international attention. Prominent religious leaders, including former President Jimmy Carter and the Pope, called for clemency. Even members of the prison staff submitted letters praising her change and urging mercy.

Despite multiple appeals and two stays of execution, Kelly’s sentence was ultimately carried out. She sang “Amazing Grace” as she was led to the execution chamber and delivered a final statement expressing love for her children and remorse for her actions.

At 12:21 a.m., she was pronounced dead by lethal injection. She was 47 years old.

Kelly’s case remains one of the most debated female executions in modern U.S. history—not just for the crime itself, but for the moral and legal questions it raised about redemption, gender bias in sentencing, and the role of mercy in justice.

On January 13, 2021, Lisa Marie Montgomery became the first woman executed by the federal government in nearly 70 years.

Her crime was one of the most gruesome in modern history. In December 2004, Lisa drove from Kansas to Skidmore, Missouri, under the pretense of buying a puppy from 23-year-old Bobbie Jo Stinnett, who was eight months pregnant at the time. Once inside the victim’s home, Lisa strangled her unconscious, then used a kitchen knife to perform a crude cesarean section, removing the baby girl from Bobbie Jo’s womb. She left Bobbie Jo to die on the floor and fled with the infant.

Authorities launched an intense manhunt. The next day, they found Lisa at her home in Kansas, cradling the baby as if it were her own. Miraculously, the baby survived and was returned to her family.

At trial, Lisa’s defense centered on her severe mental illness. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, complex PTSD, and dissociative identity disorder. Her lawyers detailed a lifetime of horrific abuse: Lisa was repeatedly raped by her stepfather, with her mother’s knowledge. She suffered traumatic brain injuries and was forced into sex work as a teen. Experts argued that she was psychotic at the time of the crime, and unable to fully comprehend the nature of her actions.

But the prosecution painted her as manipulative and calculating. The jury sentenced her to death.

In the years that followed, advocates around the world—mental health professionals, human rights groups, and even members of Congress—called for clemency. They didn’t excuse her crime, but insisted that executing a severely mentally ill woman was an injustice. The United Nations and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights agreed.

Despite multiple last-minute appeals, the execution proceeded in the final days of the Trump administration. Lisa was taken to the federal death chamber in Terre Haute, Indiana. She declined a final meal, declined spiritual counseling, and when asked if she had last words, she replied simply: “No.”

At 1:31 a.m., she was pronounced dead by lethal injection.

Lisa Montgomery was 52 years old.

Her case has become a touchstone in the debate over mental illness and capital punishment. Even after her death, her story continues to be studied in legal journals, psychology forums, and activist circles as a symbol of how trauma, untreated mental illness, and a broken system can collide—with tragic results.

Unless something changes, Christa Gail Pike is scheduled to be executed by the state of Tennessee in September 2026. If carried out, she will become the youngest woman executed in the United States in the modern era — not by age at death, but by the age she committed the crime.

Christa was only 18 years old when she brutally murdered 19-year-old Colleen Slemmer in January 1995.

The attack took place on the campus of Job Corps, a government-funded youth training program in Knoxville, Tennessee. Christa believed — with little to no evidence — that Colleen was trying to “steal” her boyfriend, Tadaryl Shipp. Along with Tadaryl and another friend, Shadolla Peterson, Christa lured Colleen into a remote area behind the school under the pretense of smoking marijuana and working things out.

What followed was nothing short of torture.

Over the course of nearly 30 minutes, Christa and Tadaryl beat, slashed, and carved into Colleen. Christa used a box cutter and a piece of asphalt to mutilate her. The autopsy revealed over 40 injuries, including carvings of a pentagram into her chest. The final blow was a massive strike to the head with a chunk of asphalt, causing a fatal skull fracture.

Christa kept a piece of Colleen’s skull as a souvenir, later bragging about the killing to classmates and even showing off the bone fragment. She was arrested within 36 hours.

At trial, Christa's defense pointed to a traumatic childhood — claims of parental neglect, physical and sexual abuse, and early exposure to violence. But the gruesome details of the murder overwhelmed any mitigating factors.

She was convicted of capital murder and sentenced to death in 1996.

Tadaryl Shipp, who was 17 at the time, was sentenced to life with the possibility of parole after 25 years. That parole eligibility, by the way, began in 2026 — the same year Christa may face execution.

In prison, Christa’s behavior raised red flags. In 2001, she attempted to strangle a fellow inmate with a shoelace, reportedly driven by jealousy over a romantic interest. She was convicted of attempted murder for that attack and given an additional 25 years. There have also been allegations of mental illness, including psychosis and PTSD.

Her legal team has filed multiple appeals over the years, focusing on her youth, trauma, and brain damage, but none have overturned the death sentence.

Tennessee hasn’t executed a woman since 1837. If this date holds, Christa Pike will be the first woman executed in the state in nearly two centuries — and one of the few people executed in the U.S. for a crime committed at age 18 or younger.

Her story continues to draw attention — from both those who see her as a remorseless killer, and others who believe executing a mentally ill teenager is a failure of justice.

Seventeen women have been executed in the United States since 1976. Christa Pike may become the eighteenth.

Each of their stories is different — the crimes, the backgrounds, the final words. Some were calculated, others chaotic. Some expressed remorse, others none at all. But they all passed through the same system, under the same sentence: death.

As of now, twenty-four states actively allow the death penalty. Twenty-three have banned it, and three more — California, Oregon, and Pennsylvania — have formal moratoriums in place, meaning executions are paused, even if death sentences remain on the books.

Support for the death penalty has declined in recent years, yet polls still show that a majority of Americans — though a shrinking one — believe it has a place in our justice system.

Critics argue it's applied unequally, is deeply flawed, and can never be undone if a mistake is made. Supporters see it as a tool for accountability, a way to bring justice to victims and their families.

The truth, like most things, is complex.

So now we turn to you.

Where do you stand?

Is the death penalty justice served… or justice denied?

What do you think? Let me know. I’ll have photos and news articles up on the website soon. Curator 135 dot com. 

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