Innocent Prisoner

The Innocent Prisoner

My name is Sarita Shastri and I am an executioner. A hangwoman, if you like, for that is what I do. I hang people. I live in this jail and the authorities let me stay here and feed me in exchange for the accomplishment of certain tasks. You see, I was sentenced to death for the murder of my husband, but a few days before my execution, I was invited to fill a vacancy on the hangman's job. There were two other executioners in the jail, but they were men and they needed someone to perform female executions, so who better than a woman to do it?

So I took the place. At first, I had a bit of problems adjusting to my new status. Later on, I began to grow a tough shell around me and became an expert in the first two years. Technically, I was just another prisoner, since I was never allowed off the prison walls without escort, but I had a lifetime reprieve on my sentence. I've been in active duty for seven years until now and performed nearly thirty five executions, some single, some multiple. All women, between nineteen and fifty, to be sure.

None the less, I recently had an odd case. Let me tell from the beginning...

Whenever I received a new patient, I was not personally informed by the prison personnel. I just received a sealed envelope from the judge, signed by the prison director, containing a file and basic data on the poor wretch I was supposed to string up. I then had twenty four hours to prepare things. One morning I got up and found one of those sealed envelopes shoved under my door. I grabbed it and opened it, getting the papers out and laying it on the table.

At first I thought I hadn't seen right, but a second look told me my senses were correct: my next patient was a male! I immediately concluded that this enveloped had reach my room by mistake and was about to deliver it to one of my male colleagues when I glanced at the last page on the bunch. It was meant to be read by me and had a stamp mark stating confidential information.

I sat back and read the letter: cutting it short, the Minister of Internal Affairs was informing me that the man I was ordered to execute was an european and had been arrested and condemned for the crime of drug traffic. Up until now, nothing new, but in the next sentence I was informed by the state that he was probably innocent! Well, I was aware that probably some of the people sentenced by the state and executed by me were wrongfully condemned, but it was none of my business to pass judgement on that matter. The only task I was requested to do was to end their lives. Nevertheless, this was insane! Why would they want to kill a man they classified as probably innocent?

The answer stroke me in the next paragraph: in the latest years, several drug related crimes involving foreigners had passed unpunished by my country's government. Foreign people were major offenders and left our frontiers untouched by the hand of justice. It needed to stop at once, and this young man, although surely innocent, had to serve as an example. They trusted me to act accordingly with the situation. Further information were available on his file.

The file had a lot of important data. He was french, his name was Jean-Luc Juliot and he was 27. He had came to my country in tourism with his girlfriend a couple of years ago. His girlfriend didn't felt well with the tropical weather and had returned to Europe one week before him. He spent a few more days in the hotel and as he return to France, he was arrested in the airport for drug possession, which was true. It became clear his girlfriend was involved a some scheme and to confirm it her disappearance was sufficient, but the court wanted to show results and railroaded poor Jean-Luc. As he could not prove the drug wasn't his, he was sentenced to die like any common drug dealer: hanged by the neck until dead.

I closed my eyes and reasoned for a while. Having the poor boy hanged by a woman was a touch of smoothness that would slip between western minds, but meant a big deal in the East. In a awkward way, this gesture was intended to compensate the condemned for having to hang for a crime he did not commit. Not willing to bend their own interests, the only mercy at hand was to have him hanged by a woman and the phrase act accordingly with the situation was a bit less than obvious. Men can be so brutal, sometimes...

Well, rules between prison staff and inmates were strict and intercourse was forbidden, therefor out of the question. However, I would follow the standard procedure for female executees and try to make things kinder to Jean-Luc. The next day, I paid the condemned a visit.

The jailer opened the door and I entered the cell. A young man in a loose fitting blue pyjama and barefoot was inside. He looked surprised as he saw me. Surely he wasn't expecting to see someone like me in a place like this. Or with my task, for that matters. But still he got up and sat on his bunk, looking at me with nervous expectation. I walked towards him and presented myself, stating my name and duty. He stared at me in disbelief as I said I was his appointed executioner.

You must be joking... You're a woman! I assured him the words I had just spoken were quite true and that I would do my utmost to make things as easy as possible for him. He stood in front of me, mouth open and still not believing what was going on, so I took advantage of his surprise and made him stand. With swift and gentle movements I took Jean-Luc by the arm and placed him against the wall, facing the bricks. I felt his backbone and cervical vertebrae and took his measures from head to toe without a word, until he finally realised I was speaking the truth and broke the silence: - What are you doing? - he asked fearfully.

My policy towards all executees was to tell them the plain truth. I don't believe in lies and subterfuges. Most of the time, being honest with these people works ok, as long as you aren't brutal. So I told Jean-Luc I was taking his measures to make sure that everything went right and to order the plain wooden coffin in which he was to be buried. Listening to this, his body tensed up a bit and, hadn't I positioned him facing the wall I would have seen the terror in his eyes. However, my honesty disarmed him in such a way he quickly leaned his head down and released the pressure in a deep sigh. I knew then that Jean-Luc would give me no trouble at all.

I told he could sit down and handed him a cigarette. He sat down on the bunk and I lighted his cigarette, which he smoke with a absent look in his eyes. As he did this, I lighted a cigarette for me too and wrote down all the measures in a small note book to prepare the gallows for him. I turned to Jean-Luc and respectfully informed him that as his appointed executioner, all his present belongings would revert in my favour. I was not paid for the job, so everything in the prisoner's property (mostly clothes and small personal objects) would be delivered to me after the execution. All this was merely nominal, so, if he wished, I could send something with sentimental value to his relatives in France. Jean-Luc stared at me with sadness in his eyes and a light smile in his lips and said:

That's a very kind gesture coming from your part, but there is no need. I've already written some letters to be delivered to them as soon as I am... - he trembled - You know...

I nodded. Before I left his cell, I gave him the rest of the cigarette pack and told him to try to calm down and have a good rest. Between you and me, no matter what they had done, I always felt sympathy towards the prisoners I executed and so I used comforting words like calm down, good rest, make it easy, but inside I knew it was only an anaesthetic. After I left, I knew they would feel scared and abandoned to their fate. Oh, well... We do what we can.

I woke up early in the next day. I wasn't even five o'clock and the sun hadn't rise yet. I took a shower and dressed my working outfit. I'm a very traditional person, so in these occasions I always dress up a loose fitting black gown, which allows me to perform wide and fast movements, if necessary. Also, it's sober enough for the task, as it is black and covers my body from shoulders to ankles, leaving my feet exposed and free to walk at my will. My footwear is nothing but a pair of leather sandals, easy to remove if needed. I don't use any hood or mask, as I consider it as an unnecessary garment that will only provoke fear in the condemned prisoner. As to weapons, I only take a small but deadly dagger when the executee is considered extremely dangerous, but that isn't frequent.

Being ready, I walked out of my room and went to the execution chamber, where the gallows stands. It is a ten feet high scaffold, with the customary thirteen steps, and a beam to hang the noose. There, I spent half an hour setting things straight for the hanging. I fashioned the noose with thirteen coils and suspended it from the beam, making several tests on it's condition and resistance. As the sentence required, Jean-Luc had to short drop through the trap door and remain hanged at my knee level. I rehearsed the drop five times with a sand bag and all was as expected.

Returning to my quarters, I stopped by Jean-Luc's cell and asked to see him. He was sitting in a corner of his bunk, looking very distant. A bowl of oatmeal rested forgotten in a stool. He was having his last meal, but like most of the people facing his fate, he had lost appetite. He looked at me and shivered thinking about the meaning of this unexpected visit. He babbled: What? But... so soon... I told him to calm down, it wasn't time for the walk to the gallows yet. There was no need to loose the nerves. As strange as it may seem to him, this was merely a social visit. He seemed not to understand and, frankly, I didn't blame him. Sensing Jean-Luc's discomfort, I asked him if my presence disturbed him and if he would like me to leave. He looked even more confused and looked intensely at me. Then he sobbed and said in a shrieking voice: - No, please! I don't want to be alone. Stay here, even if it's you! I can't stand the loneliness.

I sat on the other end of the bunk and told Jean-Luc he ought to try to stay calm. Panic would bring no remedy, it was useless. Shiva had given him one life and it was about to end. He ought to prepare himself for the next one, instead of mourning the past one. We talked for about an our on the subject and I was able to distract his mind for a while. I think he nearly forgot who I was as we talked. I, however, didn't: he was a patient awaiting to walk to the gallows. I talked to him in a calm, direct way, maintaining a professional distance between us. As the jailer announced the catholic priest had arrived, I got up, said farewell and left the cell.

I returned two hours later. The priest had left and a couple of guards were posted at Jean-Luc's door. As I entered and closed the door behind me, he looked terrified and cowered in a corner of his bunk. Already used to this kind of things, I spoke to him in a low and brief tone. I told him it was time and either he could comply with the schedule or I would summon two guards that would drag him in shame through the hallway and into the death chamber. If he chose the first option, at least, he would die like a man.

Jean-Luc slowly stood up and I expertly pinioned his hands behind his back. Then, I quickly positioned him above the necessity bucket he had in his cell, lowered his pants around his ankles and pushed him down so he would squat over it. Having done this, I told him to shit or pee if he could. In spite of his efforts, Jean-Luc couldn't do it and shortly afterwards I pulled his pants into place. I guess he felt so shocked and humiliated he could not comply with my orders, but there was no other way to do this and the time for the walk to the gallows was getting near.

Without a word, I took Jean-Luc by the arm and lead him to the corridor. I signalled the guards to follow me closely, in order to prevent any problem. Jean-Luc was trembling like a leaf in Autumn, but made an effort to be brave and walked hesitatingly down the corridor. As we walked slowly side by side, I impulsively asked him if he had committed the crime he was about to die for. He shook his head: No, I'm innocent.

We arrived at the end of the corridor and stood in front of a dark green door. The guards opened it and suddenly the gallows was before us. Poor Jean-Luc halted and stared at it, gasping with despair. I glanced down and saw a dark stain growing in his groin and riveting down his bell-bottoms: he had peed himself in fright. I had seen it often on women, but watching this made me feel excited. For a moment, I forgot my professionalism and had a kind of sensuous pity on him. Here was the first man I would hang, this frightened and innocent young man, betrayed and abandoned by the woman he loved, barefoot and wetting his prison clothes as he was lead helpless and vulnerable to the noose! It excited me to know I was to put an end to his misery.

I calmed him down and motioned him forward. I dismissed the guards and indicated them to stay put. Jean-Luc stared mesmerised at the noose as I lead him up the thirteen steps. As he climbed up the stairs, he saw the opened casket in which he would be buried laid on the floor underneath the gallows. Reaching the top, I placed the poor young man over the trapdoor and positioned his bare feet on a chalk mark in the shape of an X. He quivered a lot and I reassured him, telling him it would be over soon. I knelt down and strapped his legs together just above the ankles. Then, I strapped his upper arms to his torso. I held a wide strip of black cloth and offered him the kindness of a blindfold, which he accepted. He sobbed as I covered his face from the forehead to the tip of his nose. I asked him if he had any last words and he hesitated but finally said he hadn't. So, I softly looped the noose over Jean-Luc's head and snuggled it around his neck, placing the knot behind his left hear. Before leaving him standing alone on the trapdoor, I whispered in his hear the traditional sentence Forgive me your death and he nodded nervously. I walked over to the lever and placed both my hands upon it, ready to pull.

I pulled the lever with all my strength. The trapdoor opened with a loud BANG and Jean-Luc Juliot dropped through it, being halted shortly bellow. All that emerged from the trapdoor was his head and upper torso, the rest being hid by the shades below the scaffold. He was still for a few seconds, as dazzled by the shock and the drop, but he soon began kicking and writhing violently, performing a macabre dance for which there was no compass. I had no underwear and felt the increasing wetness between my legs as I watched Jean-Luc's strangle at the end of his rope.

I saw the watch in the opposite wall mark two minutes past scheduled hour and knew it was time to end it all. I kicked off my sandals and walked to the trapdoor, facing the still contorting Jean-Luc. I lifted up the lower part of my gown and dropped it over his head, thinking it was a suitable hood. Then I held the dangling rope with both hands and wrapped my legs around it. Finally, I slid down the rope and laid myself mildly across Jean-Luc's shoulders, hugging his head with my legs as I felt his face snuggled against my crotch. I eased my weight on his shoulders and knew the poor wretch was now strangling faster. His tongue protruded and it was now against my warm and wet sex, which gave me much pleasure.

I pressed harder on his shoulders and his body began to twitch in his death throws. This had pushed me over the brink and my eyes rolled over underneath my eyelashes as the wetness in my crotch poured into his swollen tongue and chin. Jean-Luc's kicking had now ceased and his whole body tensed up as death overcame. A secret satisfaction filled me as a stifled moan and a loud CRACK announced his neck had broken and he went limp. I remained in the same position for one more minute, but I knew death was assured as the characteristic aroma of faeces rose.

I returned to the scaffold and let him hang for a full hour. I stared at him for a while. As I bent to slip into my sandals again I saw Jean-Luc's neck had stretched a bit, his salivated tongue was sticking out from his lips, his chin was dripping with his own saliva and my wetness. The our passed and I went underneath the gallows as the two guards lowered him down. When he was lowered directly into the coffin I noticed a bulge in the crotch of his pee stained pants and couldn't help to smile. I took his bare feet in my hands and laid his body on the coffin and recovered the straps and the blindfold but left the hangman's noose around his neck in sign of shame, as prescribed by law.

The guards took the coffin to the prison cemetery and unceremoniously buried it that same afternoon. Justice, right or wrong, had been served!

Return to Main