ATMORE, Alabama — Kenneth Eugene Smith’s death did not come easily, and it did not come quietly.
The 58-year-old convicted murderer became the first person in American history executed by nitrogen hypoxia on Thursday night, a method that Alabama officials had touted as humane but which witnesses described as a harrowing spectacle of violent thrashing, desperate gasping, and visible suffering that stretched on for more than 20 minutes before he was pronounced dead at 8:25 p. m. at William C.
Holman Correctional Facility.
Smith’s death marks the culmination of a 36-year legal odyssey spanning the brutal murder of a pastor’s wife in 1988, a botched execution attempt in November 2022 that left him strapped to a gurney for hours while medical teams repeatedly failed to establish an IV line, and a final, controversial procedure that even the United Nations condemned as a human experiment.
“Tonight, Alabama causes humanity to take a step backwards,” Smith said in his final words, his voice muffled beneath the airtight mask that covered his face from forehead to beneath his chin. “I’m leaving with love, peace, and light. Thank you for supporting me.
Love all of you.”
According to witnesses, Smith smiled, nodded, and formed an “I love you” sign with his hand toward his family before the nitrogen gas began to flow just minutes before 8 p.m. What followed was anything but the peaceful passing the state had promised.
Smith’s breathing became visibly labored within moments. Witnesses reported seeing the condemned man thrash violently against his restraints, his body jerking as though struggling for air. His spiritual adviser, Reverend Jeff Hood, who stood among the witnesses, described the scene in chilling detail.
“We saw spit. We saw all sorts of stuff from his mouth develop on the mask,” Hood said. “We saw this mask tied to the gurney and him ripping his head forward over and over and over again.”
Smith’s face, witnesses said, flushed deeply before his movements slowed and eventually ceased altogether, indicating he had likely lost consciousness. The room fell silent as all visible signs of life stopped, though the witness curtain remained open for several more agonizing minutes.
Alabama Corrections Commissioner John Ham later characterized Smith’s physical reactions as “involuntary and expected,” attributing the violent movements to Smith’s effort to hold his breath for several minutes in a final act of defiance. But Hood and other observers were unconvinced.
“It was very clear he was suffering,” Hood said.
The execution is the culmination of a case that began on March 18, 1988, when Elizabeth Dorene Sennett, a 45-year-old pastor’s wife and mother, was brutally murdered in her home. The killing was orchestrated by her own husband, Reverend Charles Sennett Sr., who sought to collect her life insurance money to escape mounting debts.
Smith and an accomplice arrived at the Sennett home under the pretense of surveying the property for hunting, a ruse that Charles Sennett had approved. Once inside, Smith attacked Elizabeth, beating her with a fireplace stool, a walking cane, and a galvanized pipe before finishing the job with a 6-inch survival knife, inflicting a series of fatal stab wounds.
To mislead investigators, the men staged the scene to look like a home invasion, stealing a video cassette recorder and stereo. But the truth unraveled quickly. One week after the murder, with investigators closing in, Charles Sennett brought his own life to a tragic end rather than face justice.
Smith was convicted and sentenced to death.
“Here we are, 36 years later, still talking about it,” said Mike Sennett, the victim’s son. “The man’s been in prison right at twice as long as we knew our mom.”
The road to Thursday’s execution was marked by an extraordinary failure that shook public confidence in Alabama’s capital punishment system. On November 17, 2022, Smith was strapped to the execution gurney, his fate seemingly sealed. At 8:02 p.
m. , the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals issued a stay of execution. Smith’s lawyers immediately notified the Alabama Department of Corrections.
But no one informed Smith of the stay.
Instead, he lay there for hours, his body tightly secured, terrified and unaware of the legal intervention unfolding around him. Around 10 p. m.
, the U. S. Supreme Court vacated the 11th Circuit stay, allowing the execution to proceed.
The IV team entered the chamber and began their attempts.
Needle after needle pierced Smith’s arms and hands. Each attempt failed to establish a viable line. As he cried out in pain, insisting that they were stabbing into his muscles, his protests were met with indifference.
Dismissed as the attempts dragged on with growing desperation, Smith pleaded.
“Call the judge. My case number is 222-CV-497. Somebody in this room, call the judge or call my lawyer.”
His cries went unanswered. After more than an hour of failed attempts, things grew even worse. In what seemed like a final desperate effort, the gurney was tilted into an inverted crucifixion position, and Smith endured repeated stabbings under his collarbone with a large needle.
The pain was blinding. It felt, Smith later recalled, as though he was being stabbed in the chest with a knife over and over again. A prison official grabbed his head, forcing it away from the area being punctured.
By 11:20 p. m. , whispers began to circulate that the execution might be called off.
The protocol, it seemed, could not be completed before the death warrant expired at midnight. Yet Smith remained in the dark, left to believe he was moments away from his end.
The pain, the uncertainty, and the terror. Each moment felt like torture.
Finally, just minutes before midnight, state officials admitted defeat. They unstrapped Smith and told him simply, “It’s over with.” Shaking and drenched in sweat, he was taken back to his cell.
It marked Alabama’s third consecutive botched execution, an unthinkable streak that left the state’s justice system under intense criticism.
Determined to avoid a repeat of the November 2022 debacle, Alabama implemented sweeping changes to its execution protocol. Governor Kay Ivey launched a review of the state’s methods, leading to significant reforms. The centerpiece of those reforms was nitrogen hypoxia, a never-before-used method of execution.
UN human rights experts condemned the move, warning that Smith was being treated as a “human guinea pig.” The method carries deep historical resonance, echoing the dark legacy of gas chamber executions in the United States that began in 1924 in Carson City, Nevada.
In that first execution, officials in a makeshift gas chamber tried and failed to properly vaporize cyanide acid. The result was a horrifying six-minute ordeal as the condemned man convulsed and gasped while horrified witnesses recoiled at the scent of almonds, the signature odor of cyanide. No autopsy was performed, fearing the gas in the dead man’s body might poison onlookers.
Despite that grim start, officials deemed the execution a success. Over the decades, nearly 600 people would lose their lives in gas chambers across the United States, with protocols varying wildly from state to state. Prisoners were often stripped and shaved to minimize risks, and chambers were sealed with Vaseline to prevent leaks.
But even with these precautions, executions frequently went wrong. Witnesses described agonizing deaths, prisoners convulsing violently, their faces turning green as they struggled for air. In one infamous case in Mississippi, a condemned man repeatedly slammed his head against a steel pole in desperation, his death stretching into agonizing minutes.
The gas chamber’s reign ended in 1999 when Arizona executed a man in front of more than 30 witnesses. The process took 18 grueling minutes, with the prisoner twitching and coughing as the gas rose.
Now, nitrogen hypoxia represents a new chapter, one touted as humane but untested and fraught with the weight of this brutal history. For Smith, the uncertainty of the method only heightened his final hours’ tension.
On the day of his execution, Smith’s final 24 hours unfolded with clinical precision. He awoke at 8 a. m.
, immediately aware that this would be his final wake-up. In less than 12 hours, he would be strapped to the same gurney in the same chamber where his previous execution attempt had failed just over a year earlier.
At 10 a. m. , Kenneth Eugene Smith was served his final meal: a T-bone steak, cheese-covered hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
Classic Waffle House fare. Unlike the previous day, when he had refused breakfast and lunch, Smith accepted and consumed this meal. It would be the last solid food he would eat.
Afterward, Alabama’s protocol required him to fast, a precaution to prevent any issues such as throwing up or choking during the execution process. At 4 p. m.
, he was required to stop drinking any liquids as well. These measures, while seemingly contradictory in the context of an execution, are intended to avoid unnecessary suffering.
As the afternoon waned, Smith spent his final hours in quiet reflection with his loved ones. He received a visit from his wife and sons, who were later joined by his spiritual adviser, Reverend Jeff Hood. Hood described Smith as being at peace, though his fear was evident.
While he had accepted his fate, Smith voiced concerns about nitrogen hypoxia, a method of execution never used in this form before, its effects shrouded in uncertainty.
The debate over what transpired inside the execution chamber Thursday night will likely continue for years. Was it a humane execution carried out under a grim but necessary protocol? Or was it, as Smith’s final words suggested, a step backward for humanity?
Mike Sennett, who has waited 36 years for justice, offered a different perspective. The man who killed his mother spent more time in prison than the family had with Elizabeth Sennett. For him, Thursday night was about closure, not controversy.
Smith’s lawyers, meanwhile, have vowed to continue challenging the method, arguing that the violent reactions witnessed Thursday night prove nitrogen hypoxia is cruel and unusual punishment. Legal experts predict the case could set new precedent for how states execute condemned prisoners.
For now, the nation is left to grapple with the images described by witnesses: a man strapped to a gurney, gasping and thrashing, his face flushed, surrounded by officials who had promised a peaceful death. The history books will record Kenneth Eugene Smith as the first person executed by nitrogen hypoxia. The question of whether that legacy is one of progress or barbarism remains hauntingly unresolved.
