Why I pray for South Carolina’s death row prisoners every time one is executed | Opinion

I was somber the entire drive.

We were going to visit our son at college, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I was thinking about the South Carolina prisoner who was going to be put to death later that September day.

“Why so quiet?” my husband asked.

I told him I was praying for the prisoner who was to be executed. I did not know all the details. I had only skimmed the headline before we left that morning, and it made me feel powerless.

“How about praying for the victim, and for their family?” he responded.

“Yes, that, too,” I said.

I had always felt a call to pray for prisoners. I figured they must have been so very troubled to commit such heinous crimes — lack of a stable family life, lack of means, lack of love. It made me think of the variety of circumstances that each person is born into, or faces in life.

“There but for the grace of God go I” is such a humbling phrase.

I’ve never been an advocate of the death penalty. Was it really that much of a deterrent? Wouldn’t an able body be better used working in prison for the duration of their life? Perhaps, as many say, it is the only way for the families of the victims to feel any sense of justice and to get closure. Still, it troubles me.

As we continued driving, I wondered what time the prisoner was set to be executed. (It was set for 6 p.m.) I wondered if there was going to be a last-minute pardon. (There would not.) I wondered how incredibly nerve-racking that must be for everyone involved.

“I would like to make our first stop church,” I said to my husband. “To pray. Is that OK?”

He nodded.

We arrived at the church shortly before 3 p.m. It was empty save for a few people scattered about who were quietly praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I prayed The Divine Mercy Chaplet for the prisoner — that his heart would be repentant and open to God’s great love. I prayed for the soul of the victim. And I prayed that the victim’s family would have peace — a peace that surpassed all understanding.

Outside the college town was so alive. People were everywhere, shopping, eating and drinking, and getting ready for the football game the next day. But not too far away someone was getting ready to be put to death. Getting ready to meet their Maker. My heart felt heavy, burdened. There was so much sadness in the world, so much killing.

But as I continued praying, a gentle peace washed over me. The hushed quiet of the church calmed my anxiety. The sun shone through the windows, illuminating the stained glass with rays of light, reminding me of all the beauty and goodness in the world. Hymns rose inside me.

The execution on Sept. 20 was the first of several to be scheduled in South Carolina after a 13-year hiatus. Just six weeks later, as I was going up to visit my son for his birthday weekend, I repeated the same routine for another prisoner before he was put to death. Despite our family’s joyous occasions, the state’s scheduled ending of a life kept creeping into my thoughts.

When saying the rosary, many people add the Fatima prayer to the end of each decade, which ends by saying “Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy.” This reminds me that each and every soul is precious to God. For there is no sin greater than God’s mercy. And though I am powerless over the fate of the prisoners on death row — including the one scheduled to be put to death this Friday — I still have the power to pray.

This story was originally published January 30, 2025 at 6:00 AM with the headline "Why I pray for South Carolina’s death row prisoners every time one is executed | Opinion."