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The murder remained unsolved for
nine months, until August 1945 when Francis was detained due to his
proximity to an unrelated crime. In his pocket was Andrew Thomas'
wallet.
Francis named several others in
connection with the murder, but the police were never able to find
them. A short time later, Francis directed the police to where he'd
disposed of the holster used to carry the murder weapon.
Despite two separate written
confessions, Francis pleaded not guilty. Nevertheless, eight days
after the trial began, Willie Francis stood convicted of murder and
sentenced to death.
At his execution, the electric
chair failed to kill Willie Francis, who reportedly shrieked "Stop
it! Let me breathe!" as the lethal surge of electricity was being
applied. It turned out that the portable electric chair had been
improperly set up by an intoxicated trustee.
After the botched execution,
Francis appealed to the Supreme Court in Francis v. Resweber,
329 U.S. 459 (1947), citing various violations of his Fifth, Eighth,
and Fourteenth Amendment rights. These included violations of equal
protection, double jeopardy, and cruel and unusual punishment. In a
5-4 decision the appeal was rejected. The dissenting opinion asked
just how many attempted executions it took before it became cruel
and unusual.
He was an
African American sentenced to death by electrocution by the state of
Louisiana in 1945 (at age 16) for murdering Andrew Thomas, a Cajun
drugstore owner in St. Martinville who had once employed him.
Arrest and trial
Andrew Thomas' murder remained unsolved for nine months, until August
1945 when Francis was detained in Texas due to his proximity to an
unrelated crime. Police claimed he was carrying the wallet of Andrew
Thomas in his pocket.
Francis initially named several others in
connection with the murder, but the police dismissed these claims. A
short time later, Francis, under interrogation, confessed to Thomas'
murder, writing, "It was a secret about me and him." The actual
meaning of his statement is still uncertain, but author Gilbert King,
in his book, "The Execution of Willie Francis," alludes to rumors in
St. Martinville of sexual abuse by the pharmacist. Francis later
directed the police to where he'd disposed of the holster used to
carry the murder weapon. The gun used to kill Thomas was also found
near the crime scene and belonged to a deputy sheriff in St.
Martinville who had once threatened to kill Thomas. It, along with the
bullets, disappeared from evidence just before the trial.
Despite two separate written confessions, Francis
pleaded not guilty. During the trial of Willie Francis, the court-appointed
defense attorneys offered no objections, called no witnesses and put
up no defense. The validity of the confessions was not questioned by
the defense. Nevertheless, just two days after the trial began, Willie
Francis stood convicted of murder and was sentenced to death by twelve
jurors and the judge.
On May 3, 1946, the electric chair failed to kill Willie Francis.
Witnesses reported hearing the teenager scream from behind the leather
hood, "Take it off! Take it off! Let me breathe!" as the supposedly
lethal surge of electricity was being applied.
Another report states that he called out, "I'm n-not dying!" It turned
out that the portable electric chair known as "Gruesome Gertie" had
been improperly set up by an intoxicated prison guard and inmate from
the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola. The sheriff, E.L. Resweber,
was later quoted as saying: "This boy really got a shock when they
turned that machine on."
After the botched execution,
a young lawyer, Bertrand DeBlanc, who was best friends with the victim,
decided to take Francis's case, much to the dismay of the small Cajun
town. He appealed to the Supreme Court in Francis v. Resweber,
329 U.S. 459 (1947), citing various violations of his Fifth, Eighth,
and Fourteenth Amendment rights. These included violations of equal
protection, double jeopardy, and cruel and unusual punishment.
The preliminary vote was in Francis' favor. A court
clerk mistakenly informed Francis' legal team he had won his appeal.
In fact, in a 5-4 decision, the appeal was rejected. The dissenting
opinion asked just how many attempted executions it took before it
became cruel and unusual punishment. Behind the scenes, Justice Felix
Frankfurter, who cast the deciding vote to re-execute Francis, asked
his old college roommate to secretly petition the Governor of
Louisiana for a commutation, which failed.
Subsequently, Willie Francis was executed at
12:05pm (CST) on
By Rebecca Agule
- Herald Record
November 176, 2006
The discomfort caused by a thermostat set much too high created an
oddly appropriate backdrop for students attending the American
Constitution Society's Thursday, November 9, screening of director
Allen Durand's documentary, "Willie Francis Must Die Again." The
intimate atmosphere allowed attendees to share a close moment with the
director in way not possible in a more formal setting.
Raised in St. Martinville, a French Catholic town
in southern Cajun Louisiana, Durand produced and directed the film,
which centers on his town's most famous execution. Or perhaps more
properly put, executions. Actor Danny Glover narrated the unique and
haunting story of young Willie Francis, who survived the electric
chair to which he was sentenced in 1946, before being strapped in
again and succumbing to it in 1947.
Shot mostly as a combination of black and white
stills and first person interviews, with music evocative of the time
and the region, the film recounts the initial crime, the trial, the
first botched execution, an appeal to the United States Supreme
Court and the eventual successful execution.
Sister Helen Prejean, best known for her book
Dead Man Walking, speaks throughout the film, offering her own
insight on the death penalty and certain failings of the United
States adversarial system.
"We play God," Prejean said. "We go behind closed
doors and decide if a fellow human being lives or dies."
Durand utilized quotes from renowned philosophers
to emphasize the cruel nature of the ordeal and its consequences.
Sir Roger L'Estrange is quoted as saying, "The greatest of all
injustice is that which goes under the name of law."
One night in 1945, St. Martinville pharmacist, Andrew Thomas, was
murdered in his bed, and when the police failed to make an arrest or
even find real leads, sixteen year-old Francis was charged with the
crime. After arresting Francis on unrelated and false drug charges,
the police claimed to extract from him a confession in the Thomas
murder. This confession constituted the bulk of the prosecution's case
in a trial that lasted just over a day.
Francis' defense was anything but effective. Over
the course of the short trial, his court-appointed defense attorney
changed Francis' plea from not-guilty to guilty without his consent,
did not make an opening statement, called not a single witness,
raised no objections, and mounted nothing that could be termed a
defense. An all-white, all-male jury took just fifteen minutes to
convict Francis and sentenced him to death by electrocution. All
pertinent deadlines passed without a single appeal being filed on
Francis's behalf.
Following the first failed
execution, Francis' father reached out to Louisiana attorney Bertrand
DeBlanc, who in turn contacted Washington lawyer, J. Skelly Wright.
Together to two men brought the case before the United States Supreme
Court, where Wright argued before the bench. Wright, filmmaker
Durand's great uncle, also served as the director's personal
connection to the case.
On November 8, 1946, Wright presented the case,
mostly based on the 8th Amendment. Following much internal debate
and vote-changing, the court voted 5-4 to allow the second execution.
But much like Francis himself, the Supreme
Court's interest in the case would not die easily. After casting the
deciding fifth vote, a torn Justice Felix Frankfurter began a behind-the-scenes
campaign of his own to commute Francis' sentence to life in prison.
In a highly unorthodox display of extrajudicial involvement, Justice
Frankfurter contacted friends in the Louisiana legal community and
involved himself well beyond the cloaks of the Supreme Court.
The Supreme Court itself encouraged Francis to
bring his case again, but by that point, exhausted from emotion and
tired of the pain he saw in his family as they awaited his fate,
Francis refused, instead accepting his coming death, right or wrong.
And on May 9, 1947, the initial sentence, handed down long before,
was carried out.
Time allowed the violent truth to rise to the top.
First it was revealed that the two men charged with operating the
electric chair for the first execution had been intoxicated both
during the assembly and the procedure. Then it slowly began to come
out that, not only had Francis been innocent, but many people had
information as to the identity of the real murderers. But these
revelations came much too late to save the young man.
The close of the film covers the changed lives of
those connected to the case. Skelly Wright became an appeals court
judge of great renown, well recognized for his belief that, "the
ultimate test is goodness." After serving as a District Attorney,
DeBlanc remained so impacted by the Francis case that he could not
continue as a prosecutor, instead becoming the head of the indigent
defendant's office, a career move rarely seen before or after.
Following the screening, Durand answered all
questions posed him. In a low, rolling southern accent, he explained
his cinematic decisions, as well as his influences.
Durand further provided historical context for
the film, describing the extreme isolation of southern Louisiana in
the mid-20th century. "Prior to the Civil Rights movement on the
1960's, there wasn't an opportunity for a minority to really do
anything. They were totally powerless."
When asked about the local attitude at the time,
the director candidly quoted his own father, "If you were black and
they wanted you to confess, you confessed."
The documentary film community recognized the
potency of Durand's piece. It won Best Documentary at the 2006
Memphis International Film Festival, as well as Best Social Justice
Documentary at the 2006 New York International Independent Film and
Video Festival.