Robbie Byrd
A man who pledged to be Texas’ first “dead man laughing” fought back tears during his final statement Tuesday night rather than telling a pledged joke.
Patrick Knight, 39, was pronounced dead at 6:21 p.m. Tuesday, nine minutes after the lethal dose began.
“I said I was going to tell a joke,” Knight said during his final statement. “Death has set me free. That’s the biggest joke (because) I deserve this.
“And the other joke is I am not Patrick Bryan Knight and ya’ll can’t stop this execution now,” he said.
Friends and family members of Knight and of the Amarillo couple he murdered that were present to witness the execution did not laugh.
“Despite all the hype about his joke, it turns out he’s not much of a comedian,” said Randall County Sheriff Joel W. Richardson, who spoke on behalf of the family after the execution. “He’s simpy an executed, cold-blooded killer.
“At this point, it doesn’t much matter anymore,” he said.
Knight was executed for the August 1991 abduction and murder of Walter and Mary Werner.
While it was clear Knight’s statement was a joke, Texas Department of Criminal Justice spokeswoman Michelle Lyons said Knight was in fact Knight.
“We fingerprint them when they come over,” she said.
Knight was the 18th inmate executed this year in Texas, the nation’s busiest capital punishment state, and the fourth this month.
Along with Knight, two other inmates died around the U.S. Tuesday night.
Jimmy Dale Bland was executed by lethal injection in Oklahoma for a 1996 murder. Bland’s execution caused controversy after his attorney’s revealed that he was on the verge of death, suffering from terminal brain and bone cancer, but the family of Bland’s victims urged the state to keep the execution date.
John Washington Hightower was also executed later Tuesday night in Georgia, that state’s first execution in two years. Hightower was executed by lethal injection for the 1987 slayings of his wife and two stepdaughters, pronounced dead at 7:59 p.m.
Knight requested fried pork chops and chicken for his final meal, along with garlic toast and ice cream.
Up until the final hours before his execution, Knight told prison officials he still planned to deliver a joke, but would not tell them what he planned to say.
He also said shortly after arriving at the Huntsville unit that he had as many as 1,300 jokes delivered to his cell on death row.
He said he narrowed the list down and ran a few finalists past his death row buddies to pick which one they liked the best and would deliver during his final statement.
Knight, who was on probation for burglary at the time of their deaths, has been soliciting jokes in the mail and on an Internet site set up by a friend. He said his humor effort was intended to boost the spirits of his fellow condemned inmates.
“A little bit of levity is needed,” Knight said of the mood on death row. “And it seems to be working. I just want to go out laughing. I’m not trying to disrespect anyone. I know I’m not innocent.”
Texas inmates with execution dates are housed in a separate area of death row. At least 13 other convicted murderers have death dates in the coming months, including two in July and five each in August and September.
“I don’t think his point was to trivialize it,” said Mansur, who met with Knight last week. “They’ve had 17 executions and we’re in the 25th week of the year. They see these people go and these are people they know and communicate with. They have a camaraderie together. So it’s really just for them.”
Randall County District Attorney James Farren, whose office prosecuted Knight at his 1993 capital murder trial, said Knight’s joke plans were another example of the convict’s recklessness.
“People like Mr. Knight are not discretionary,” Farren said. “They are equal opportunity criminals and pretty well will strike out at anyone. There’s not a lot of due process when they make their decision.
“It just shows he has no respect for human life, including his own.”
When the Werners arrived home Aug. 26, 1991, they found Knight and a friend, Robert Bradfield, waiting inside for them. They were held captive in their basement through the next day, then bound, gagged, blindfolded and taken in their own van to a spot about four miles away.
There they were forced to kneel on the ground and each was shot in the back of the head. Their bodies were left in a ditch.
Knight went back to his trailer and went to sleep.
When police investigating their disappearance questioned him, he initially denied involvement, but later confessed and led authorities to the bodies.
Knight said he was young and immature, and drunk and high on drugs, and didn’t remember much about the slayings, which were the climax of complaints the Werners had made about his loud music and loud cars.
“I regret so much because they were such good people,” said Knight, who grew up in Slidell, La., and was known in prison as the “Insane Cajun.”
“I’m the cause of this crime, no doubt about it,” he said. “It bothers me I might be capable of taking someone’s life.”
