Alan Miller had spent the six months leading up to his execution confined to his cell. Though Miller was never given an explanation for the heightened captivity, which had over the past few years become routine for people facing execution in Alabama, he used the time to conduct his own research on the state’s plan to kill him with nitrogen gas.
A Discovery Channel program on scuba diving he’d watched made him especially worried about contracting decompression sickness, otherwise known as the bends. Though Miller’s eyes, nose, and mouth would be covered by a respirator mask, he feared that air would enter his ears and prolong his death — or worse, keep him alive but unable to function. To avoid that risk, he said he asked some prison guards whether he could put tissues in his ears to block them. The guards told him it was above their pay grade and to take it up with the people in charge.
Miller, 59, had been forced to consider the possibility that things could go wrong. Research on killing humans with nitrogen gas — by pumping it through a hose into an industrial respirator mask — was extremely limited, and state officials refused to disclose how they developed the novel method. Alabama is the first and only state to use nitrogen for executions, and had done so just once before. Witnesses described the man, Kenneth Smith, writhing in “seizure-like movements” for two minutes, despite state officials promising he’d lose consciousness “seconds” after the gas started flowing and die after about five minutes. Even the son of the victim was startled by what he saw, telling the New York Times that it conflicted with what state officials had told him to expect. “With all that struggling and jerking and trying to get off that table, more or less, it’s just something I don’t ever want to see again,” he said. Afterwards, Alabama officials offered to help other states adopt execution by nitrogen.
Leading up to Smith’s execution, one doctor had warned there was a chance the method might not kill him and would inflict such significant brain damage that he’d be left in a vegetative state.
Miller insisted he’d rather die. “I don’t want to be a vegetable,” Miller told me several times in a thick Southern drawl as we sat across from one another in the dilapidated visitation room at Holman Correctional Facility, a maximum security prison in Atmore that houses Alabama’s death row and execution chamber.
Miller didn’t have anything to worry about, state lawyers had said. Smith, they wrote in court documents, reacted so violently because he held his breath.
Miller said he had no plans to fight his execution. All he asked was that the state hold up its end of the bargain and give him a quick and peaceful death. Over the summer, he’d agreed to a settlement with the state to help ensure that would happen. The terms were confidential.
Miller had faced execution before, and survived.
Almost exactly two years ago, he sat in the same visitation room with his family and lawyers and said what he thought would be his final goodbyes. But he left the execution chamber alive after his executioners failed to establish an IV line for lethal drugs, despite poking him all over his body and hoisting the gurney vertically into the air to suspend him for 20 minutes. He was one of six people in the U.S., and one of three people in Alabama, to survive their execution during the modern death penalty era.
“It’s like déjà vu,” Miller said as he waited again for the state to execute him. Four family members and two lawyers had come to visit. He told me he was irritated that the state was putting them through another execution, and hoped they’d do it right this time.
His visitors reassured him that everything would be OK. Miller’s brother, who worked as an EMT and firefighter for decades, had plenty of experience wearing a respirator and also witnessing death. “You’ll be just fine,” he told Miller. We all nodded in agreement.
Photo: Lauren Gill/Bolts
I would join two of Miller’s lawyers, his brother, sister, and sister-in-law to witness the execution. As we exited the prison around 4:40 p.m., a message brightly painted on an overhang to “Have a great day!” seemed to taunt us. We then loaded ourselves into a white corrections van that took us to a trailer, where we waited for the execution to begin. There, we sat passing the time with inconsequential conversation. Halloween decorations, Taylor Swift, and lawn maintenance were brief distractions from the reality that we were about to watch Miller die.
If, as the state had suggested, all that Miller needed to do for a quick and painless execution was to not fight it — to willingly breathe in the lethal gas — then Alabama’s second nitrogen execution should have gone smoothly. Instead, once the nitrogen started flowing, we watched from the witness room as Miller thrashed and jerked on the gurney, shaking and pulling at his restraints. John Muench, Miller’s spiritual adviser, stood on the opposite side of the glass inside the execution chamber, just a few feet away from Miller as he struggled to breathe. Muench, who is also a physician, remarked that Miller’s death appeared more agonizing than most he had witnessed, noting, “We don’t see people jerking around like that while they’re dying normally.”
In the years leading up to his execution, Miller adamantly maintained that he did not remember committing the crimes that led to his sentencing. Like many on death row, Miller had endured significant childhood trauma. His family history was marred by mental illness and violence, with his father subjecting him to physical and psychological abuse.
Despite his upbringing, Miller grew up to be a law-abiding citizen who held down multiple jobs. However, his behavior began to change in 1999, leading to a violent outburst that resulted in the deaths of several individuals. Although he was found guilty of the murders, some believed his mental illness should have been taken into account during his sentencing.
As he awaited his execution, Miller maintained that he did not remember the events that led to his imprisonment. His struggles with hearing issues and dissociation were evident during conversations, where he expressed confusion and difficulty recalling details. Despite the trauma he had experienced, Miller remained adamant that he did not belong on death row. He mentioned that the experience was not as shocking as it may have appeared since his father had frequently threatened him with death.
Miller’s brother Jeff Carr, who sat beside me in the visitation room, was surprised to learn that Miller was in jail for three murders. Jeff and his wife Sandra Carr later expressed that they believed the death penalty was appropriate for some individuals, but not for Miller. They recalled a different look in Miller’s eyes after his arrest, as if he had snapped. Sandra remarked, “That was not the Alan we knew.” According to her, Miller told his mother, “They said I did this, but I don’t remember it.”
About 90 minutes later, prison guards in pristine uniforms led us through a red door into the witness room for Miller’s execution. The room had a glass window covered by a curtain, and a white license plate instructed us to “STAY SEATED AND QUIET.”
The execution began with Miller lying on a gurney, covered in a sheet with a respirator mask over his face. The atmosphere felt cheap and makeshift, reminiscent of a low-budget horror film. As the gas was released, Miller spoke his last words, expressing his innocence and bidding farewell to his family.
Miller’s struggle against the gas and restraints was distressing to witness. He gasped for air, his eyes darting frenziedly, before finally succumbing. The guards closed the curtain after 15 minutes, signaling the end of the execution.
Alabama officials defended the use of nitrogen hypoxia, claiming it was humane and effective. However, their absence during the execution raised questions about their accountability. Gail Van Norman’s explanation contradicted the promises made by legislators regarding execution by nitrogen gas. In 2018, Alabama lawmakers adopted this method as a supposedly more humane alternative due to drug shortages and legal challenges with lethal injections. However, Van Norman’s analysis lacked scientific support, prompting questions about the validity of the nitrogen hypoxia method.
The nitrogen hypoxia method, intended to deprive the brain of oxygen by introducing nitrogen, is based on limited scientific evidence. Despite its authorization, Oklahoma officials have not shifted to this method, preferring to continue with lethal injections. This raises concerns about the efficacy and safety of nitrogen hypoxia for executions.
In Alabama, prisoners were given the choice to opt for nitrogen gas as their execution method, but there were issues with how this choice was communicated and the lack of transparency in the state’s protocol development. The state’s testing of the method did not adequately assess human reactions to nitrogen, highlighting the need for greater scrutiny and accountability in the execution process. Joseph Antognini, a retired anesthesiologist known for testifying on behalf of states defending their execution methods, stated in court that Kenneth Smith, the first man executed by nitrogen in January, would be rendered unconscious within 30 to 40 seconds after the nitrogen began. Despite Antognini not responding to inquiries about the discrepancy between his prediction and witness observations during the nitrogen executions, other experts expressed less optimism.
Dr. Philip Bickler, an anesthesiologist and director of the Hypoxia Lab at the University of California, San Francisco, mentioned in a court filing that the scarcity of scientific research on the effects of forcing humans to breathe large amounts of nitrogen could cause a sense of “impending doom” due to the rapid deprivation of oxygen.
In contrast to Antognini’s views, Bickler argued that any form of execution by nitrogen hypoxia was cruel and inhumane. He even went as far as to claim that this method would likely prolong the death process for individuals like Miller with asthma.
Despite these warnings, Attorney General Marshall offered to assist other states in implementing nitrogen gas executions following Alabama’s execution of Kenneth Smith earlier that year. Marshall’s efforts led to bills in Ohio, Louisiana, and Nebraska to authorize this method, with mixed results.
Nebraska failed to pass the bill, but Louisiana swiftly approved nitrogen executions during a special session on criminal justice led by Governor Jeff Landry. Inspired by Alabama’s actions, Rep. Nicholas Muscarello introduced the bill in Louisiana, receiving support from Marshall. Although legal challenges were raised, Muscarello focused on the constitutional aspect rather than emotional debates.
As Alabama prepared for a third nitrogen execution in November, Carey Dale Grayson’s lawyers argued that this method posed a risk of conscious suffocation and violated constitutional rights. Their expert, Dr. Brian McAlary, raised concerns about the agony associated with nitrogen asphyxiation, citing medical certainty.
Despite requests to film the executions to address concerns, Alabama officials and Marshall rejected the idea, emphasizing media coverage instead. Grayson’s spiritual adviser and physician, Muench, described Miller’s distress during the execution and the unexpected turn of events, indicating that the nitrogen gas was activated prematurely.
As the controversy surrounding nitrogen executions continued, the accounts of witnesses and experts painted a bleak picture of the methods being used, raising questions about their humanity and legality. Presumably, the individuals were state officials who had arrived in a black sprinter van at the prison to witness the execution.
As Muench observed Miller shaking on the gurney, he felt a strong urge to intervene. He believed that something should be done to stop the execution when the convulsions began.
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