18 Dec 15th–Dec 21st, 2022 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | music | cafe | film | culTuRe | NighT+Day | feaTuRe | NeWs | OPiNiON | feeDBacK | cONTeNTs | more than 7,100 calories before he died by lethal injection: a 16-ounce top sirloin steak cooked medium rare, french fries, onion rings, a dozen deep-fried butterfly shrimp, an entire cherry cheesecake, a whole case of Pepsi, and a pot of hot coffee. The smallest request came from Joseph Wood, who was executed in 2014 after murdering his estranged girlfriend and her father in Tucson in 1989. He asked for only two cookies. ‘It’s Not Your Birthday, It’s Your Death Day’ According to a 2014 article by Sarah Gerwig-Moore, a professor at Mercer University School of Law, the tradition of a last meal stretches “back across centuries of United States history and before.” In ancient Greece, people were fed a large meal before they were executed to prevent them from coming back to haunt the mortal realm as a hangry ghost. Puritans in Massachusetts held grand feasts for those who would be executed, “believing it emulated the Last Supper of Christ, repre- senting a communal atonement for the community and the prisoner,” Gerwig-Moore wrote. Experts agree that the last meal offering is upheld broadly because of this tradition rather than practicality. In 2011, a prominent Texas senator helped end the last meal tradition in that state after a person on death row requested two chicken fried steaks, a triple-meat bacon cheese- burger, fried okra, a pound of barbecue, three fajitas, a meat lover’s pizza, a pint of ice cream, and a slab of peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts — and ate none of it. That year, New Times wrote that “death row last meals may be becoming a thing of the past” and cited the Texas decision. But all three people executed in Arizona in 2022 — Frank Atwood, Clarence Dixon, and Hooper — choose a last meal. There’s no sign of the tradition coming to an end here. according to a corrections depart- ment spokesperson. “There is a romantic notion of it in film, TV, and literature about the last meal,” Busansky said. In the 2021 film Last Meal, a person in prison must cook the last meal of another to get enough community service time to leave. In another 2018 film called Last Meal, the protagonist dreams of being the next great celebrity chef, but his lofty aspi- rations are jeopardized when controversy arises surrounding his current job: cooking last meals for prisoners on death row. And in the 2015 film The Bronx Dahmer, old- school pizza proprietors wax derisive as their cuisine fulfills the last meal request of a person on death row. The reality for last meals on death row in Arizona is less romantic. All but three of the 40 people executed in the state since 1992 detailed their last meal requests on Form 710-5, which the corrections depart- ment pledges to make “every reasonable effort to accommodate.” Yet, the requests are mostly for cheap and ordinary food. Six people requested powdered juice drinks and nine requested instant coffee, even though fresh-pressed juices and artisan espresso drinks are fair game. Others requested knockoff cola brands and penny foods like ramen, a high-value item in the prison commissary. “How they think about food might be different,” Busansky said of the people requesting their last meals. “For your birthday, you get excited about your special meal. I’m not sure you get excited about your last meal when you’re about to be put to death — especially when you’re innocent.” Unlike other meal- choosing occasions outside of the context of incarceration, the last meal isn’t a high point that invokes cravings for lobsters or caviar, white truf- fles or Wagyu beef. “It’s not your birthday, it’s your death day,” Busansky said. “People don’t approach food the same way.” Plain Bread According to the data obtained by New Times, the third-most requested food item among people on death row is plain bread. That’s already the primary feature of their daily prison diet. The choice could be the result of growing accustomed to prison meals, nostalgia, and a fading memory of what food is like in the outside world, according to experts. “They’ve spent years not getting enough,” Busansky said. “The stuff they get is not good in terms of quality and taste. They’ve had no choice.” People on death row are underfed with such low-quality food that even fast-food and knock-off options seem like an incred- ible treat after decades behind bars. Michael Poland, who murdered two courier guards with his brother in Cottonwood in 1977, relished in a final beverage of dollar-store instant coffee powder before he was executed in 1999. His brother and accomplice, Patrick Poland, declined his last meal request ahead of his execution a year later. “People have been in there for a long time,” Busansky said. “That might have a factor in it.” Rare efforts by corrections officials to offer special meals come up short, too. In 2018, people housed at the Arizona State Prison Complex – Perryville in Goodyear were given a Christmas dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, broccoli, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. One incarcerated person described the roast beef as “so tough you could have re-soled your shoes with it.” The broccoli was “all shredded stems, boiled to the consistency of glue,” the person said. “Not one floret survived.” The hockey puck masquerading as stuffing, she said, was made of “two butt ends of an old loaf of bread soaked in water.” A few months later, New Times revealed the Perryville prison served chicken that was labeled “not for human consumption.” For people on death row who spend decades of their lives in prison, this brings about an unsavory association with some of the dishes they used to love. It grows harder and harder to eat food not only out of hunger, but also for enjoyment. “You hear about people who leave prison after many years, and they are over- whelmed by the amount of choice they are presented with,” Busansky said. “Here, you are giving people a choice for the first time in an institution where they have had tens of thousands of meals with no choice. Your experience with food has not supported or enhanced your desire for certain things.” — and ate none of it. about your last meal when you’re about to be put to death — especially when you’re innocent.” Unlike other meal- choosing occasions outside of the context of incarceration, the last meal isn’t a high point that invokes cravings for lobsters or caviar, white truf- fles or Wagyu beef. “It’s not your birthday, it’s your death day,” Busansky said. “People don’t approach food the same way.” University School of Law, the tradition of a last meal stretches “back across centuries of United States history and before.” In ancient Greece, people were fed a large meal before they were executed to prevent them from coming back to haunt the mortal realm as a hangry ghost. Puritans in Massachusetts held grand feasts for those who would be executed, “believing it emulated the Last Supper of Christ, repre- senting a communal atonement for the community and the prisoner,” Gerwig-Moore wrote. Experts agree that the last meal offering is upheld broadly because of this tradition rather than practicality. In 2011, a prominent Texas senator helped end the last meal tradition in that state after a person on death row requested two chicken fried steaks, a triple-meat bacon cheese- burger, fried okra, a pound of barbecue, three fajitas, a meat lover’s pizza, a pint of ice cream, and a slab of peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts “Lobsters and caviar — that’s the values of people on the outside.” said Alex Busansky, president and founder of the Oakland, California-based research center Impact Justice. The state prison in Florence houses Arizona’s death row. Katya Schwenk Tetra Images Crime from p 17
