Breaking news: Michael Lambrix was killed by the State of Florida on October 5, 2017.
Read more:
http://deathrowjournals.blogspot.com/



Michael Lambrix #482053
Florida State Prison
PO Box 800
Raiford FL 32083


For more information on Mike's case visit:





Contact Gov. Scott and ask him to suspend Mike's and ALL executions.
Phone: (850) 488-7146
Email: Rick.scott@eog.myforida.com - See more at: http://doinglifeondeathrow.blogspot.gr/#sthash.Cw0Zh7Sh.dpuf

recanted and the other gave inconsistent statements to police. Read more http://www.save-innocents.com/save-michael-lambrix.html

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Clemency denied and execution date set for Mike Lambrix!!







Michael Lambrix #482053
Florida State Prison
7819 NW 228th street
Raiford Florida 32026-1000


Gov. Scott has already broken the record for most executions by a Florida governor!


Contact Gov. Scott and ask him to suspend Mike's and ALL executions.
Phone: (850) 488-7146
Email: Rick.scott@eog.myforida.com
- See more at: http://doinglifeondeathrow.blogspot.gr/#sthash.Cw0Zh7Sh.dpuf

Contact Gov. Scott and ask him to suspend Mike's and ALL executions.
Phone: (850) 488-7146
Email: Rick.scott@eog.myforida.com - See more at: http://doinglifeondeathrow.blogspot.gr/#sthash.Cw0Zh7Sh.dpuf
Showing posts with label death row florida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death row florida. Show all posts

Saturday, 6 March 2010

Florida's Death Squad

As many of the regular readers of my blogs already know, on December 18 I was abruptly transferred from the main death row unit at Union Correctional to the old death row unit at Florida State Prison, where all of Florida’s death row prisoners used to be housed before they built and opened the ‘new’ unit at Union Correctional in 1992.

Coming back to this old prison was not something I anticipated as the last time I was housed at this old prison I was brutally assaulted by the guards in an attempt to silence me as I had witnessed the gangs of guards physically assault many other prisoners, leading up to the deliberate murder of another death row prisoner by the name of Frank Valdes. His own brutal assault and murder is graphically detailed in the federal court ruling Valdes v. Crosby, 450 f.3d 1231 (11th cir. 2006) and anyone who might doubt that violence against prisoners in American prisons doesn’t happen should read that case as it describes the systematic assaults and even murder of countless prisoners at this prison. I would strongly encourage you to read it so you can see how Florida often treats death sentenced prisoners.

After that 1999 incident I was transferred to the main deathrow unit at UCI which is just a short distance down the road from here. The state then paid me a substantial amount of money to drop the lawsuit, and I agreed to ‘settle’ the case- but only on the specific condition that I would not be transferred back to Florida State Prison. By now transferring me back here they’ve deliberately violated the specific terms/ conditions of that federal court settlement, so now I fully intend to reopen that federal lawsuit and this time I will demand a public jury trial to fully expose this prison’s long history of violently abusing prisoners.
But although I certainly do not like being here, it’s not too bad as by coming back over here I am able to see many old friends I’ve known for years, including Paul Johnson.

I’ve known Paul for many, many years, and of the many hundreds, if not thousands of prisoners I have known in all these long years, Paul is one of the very, very few who I would gladly welcome in my own home. He’s as straight as they come, and that’s a quality that is very rare in any prison. But a few months back Florida’s governor ‘Chaingang Charlie’ Crist eagerly gave in to a political campaign to try to expedite Paul’s execution, even though he was not ‘death warrant’ eligible, and signed a death warrant to schedule Paul’s execution in an attempt to obstruct and circumvent his pending appeals.

But the Florida Supreme Court then stayed Paul’s execution, publicly condemning Governor Crist’s politically motivated attempt to deny Paul a fair review of his appeal by insidiously pushing for an expedited execution. The court’s senior Justice, Barbara Pariente, made it very clear that Gov Crist engaged in improper misconduct when signing Paul’s death warrant while his appeal was still pending.

As coincidence would have it, once I was transferred back to this zoo, I was placed in a cell on the same floor and in close proximity to Paul, even though he remained on ‘death watch.’ And I enjoyed many long conversations with him, especially when we went out to the recreation yard for a few hours twice a week. Paul sends his thanks to all of you who have sent him cards and letters of support.

One of the conversations I had with Paul really shocked me, and believe me, after a quarter of a century on death row there’s not a lot that shocks me anymore! I have been on death watch myself and even come within hours of actual execution, not just once, but twice (please read, Doing Life on Death Row) and so I’ve been through the Phase 11 of death watch, which is when they come down to measure you for the suit the state so generously provides to kill you in, and you order your last meal and write down your ‘last will and testament.’

But when I went through all of that the state still used the infamous ‘Old Sparky’ ~ the electric chair. They’ve since switched to lethal injection as the means to which to now put the condemned to death after numerous prisoners quite literally burst into flames in the electric chair and challenges of cruel and unusual punishment were pursued ~ somehow they think injection is more ‘humane.’

So, of course I asked Paul how they do it now. Although it may seem a little morbid for two condemned prisoners to compare notes on how the state intended to kill them, when you’ve lived in the shadow of death for as long as me and Paul have, it is just part of ‘normal’ conversation.

But not even I could not have anticipated the horror that Paul described. Apparently the state is now concerned about reaching that hour of execution only to find that the prisoner’s veins are damaged and then there may be a problem in killing him, as there have been numerous executions, such as that of Angel Diaz, who were slowly and deliberately tortured to death two years ago here in Florida, which they claimed was his fault as his veins were damaged from years of drug use.

So now they’ve come up with a new procedure which to my knowledge has never been publicly exposed before, and should certainly shock the conscience of any person of conscience. Here’s how Paul described it to me ~ about a week after he was moved down to the bottom of Q wing, where Florida’s death house is, suddenly the back door that leads to the actual execution chamber opened. From personal experience, I know that this solid steel door is only a few feet from the cell they keep you in while on death watch.

Through this door walked in at least four, perhaps even 6 people who were fully dressed in plastic ~ like suits and a full helmet/mask over their head like we have often seen in the movies ~ such as those who handle nuclear waste. Slowly they marched single file only to stop in front of Paul’s death watch cell, then facing him they demanded to examine his veins. Paul says that even the small widow in the front of their uniforms was concealed, so that he could not see their faces.

As if he were nothing more than a piece of meat, without showing even the slightest semblance of humanity, this state sanctioned ‘death squad’ coldly examined Paul’s veins on his arms and talked openly among themselves about how his veins seemed to be alright. Paul was ordered to stand there as they took turns examining each arm, agreeing with each other that they would have no problem inserting the lethal chemicals to deliberately put a man to death.

Once they all agreed that Paul’s veins would pose no problems when they were called to kill him, then they turned and filed back through that solid steel door that leads to the execution chamber.

I cannot even imagine this utterly surreal scene that Paul described ~ nor can I imagine how unconscionable such an act is. Never before, other than the infamous death squads of third world countries, have I heard of a group of deliberately concealed and masked men approach a condemned prisoner and without even a hint of humanity, coldly examine him with the intent to put him to death. This is America, we don’t have masked death squads that serve the government and it shocks me that they would do such a thing. But I have also to wonder- am I the only one who is shocked by the use of death squads in the USA? What does it say about the society we have become that a state government can act in such an unconscionable and inhumane manner? Equally so, what does it say about our so-called civilized society that others are not as equally shocked by this?

Well, the good news is that this cold blooded state sanctioned death squad will not inflict deliberate death upon Paul Johnson as this past week the Florida Supreme Court has thrown out Paul’s death sentence upon finding that the state deliberately engaged in misconduct leading to his death sentence. Within the next few months Paul will be sent back to Polk county for a new sentencing phase trail and I pray that he will then be sentenced to ‘life’ rather than death.

As for me, I remain in this zoo hoping that my own nightmare will soon end. But just knowing that the Florida Supreme court was willing to stand up against the immoral politically motivated attempts to have Paul expeditiously executed gives us all hope that the courts will still recognize state misconduct and throw out death sentences obtained illegally. And we should all now pray that the lower court that will review Paul’s new sentencing will show its own compassion and humanity and sentence Paul to something other than death.

Please check out my website http://www.southerninjustice.net

Michael Lambrix
Death row Florida

Friday, 11 December 2009

Christmas in a cage - Death Row Holiday

Growing up in a large family Christmas was always celebrated in the traditional Norman Rockwell style with many brothers and sisters both older and younger than myself, the excitement and anticipation of Christmas began immediately after Thanksgiving, when dear old dad would pull out all the holiday lights from the cardboard boxes concealed in the attic and spread them out across the floor as us kids would compete with each other to find any burnt out bulbs that needed replacing. Once that task was completed, it would be an honor to hold the long strands of lights as dad balanced precariously on a ladder nailing them along the roof overhangs, then as if by magic seemingly always just at the right moment as darkness began we would all gather to watch as they came to life. In that moment of unified silence the Spirit of Christmas became one with us.

Then would come the tree. Never but never an artificial tree, not in our house. Even in the years when there would barely be enough money for food, there was always a large freshly cut evergreen tree, with the scent of pine filling the room. Boxes of beautiful antique ornaments handed down through the generations would be carefully unwrapped and meticulously placed in just the right spot with rows of tiny flashing multicolored lights accented by a million strands of silver and gold tinsel, almost each strand carefully dropped over the boughs by us kids leaving the lower part of the tree with significantly more than the harder to reach upper branches, but no body even complained.

This majestic Christmas tree would always be up no later than the first week of December and then brightly wrapped boxes would begin to appear beneath the tree. That was the Christmas tease that has tormented children through the ages… What could possibly be in these beautiful boxes? Of course, children being children, we would all find a way to ever so very carefully steal a peek in that one of two particular box with our name only to almost without exception discover that the box contained nothing more than clothes. Silly kids – we already knew that only Santa Claus brought the good stuff and that wouldn’t happen until Christmas Eve.

Each Christmas Eve all of us kids would be herded off to bed early and given a stern warning that soon Santa Claus would be near and he’d know for sure if we weren’t sleeping. Of course we couldn’t sleep but each of us in our own way did our very best to pretend to as we each fantasized about what Santa might leave us. The hours would pass slowly – very, very slowly – until the early morning hours when dad would open the bedroom doors, releasing us from our rooms with the excited announcement that Santa had come and we would all rush into the living room and stand in awe at the piles and piles of presents that had been left beneath the tree.

With so many kids all anxious to rip open these gifts, controlling the chaos was the first priority. With the barely contained excitement of a child himself, dad would reign over the distribution of the presents, picking one box at a time and loudly calling off the name of each. In that large circle all our eyes would be gleaming in silent anticipation as we each awaited our name to be called. Then quickly pouncing forward when it was, to claim our gift and retreat behind the lines to rip it open. Soon enough the living room would be overcome with haphazardly discarded boxes and wrappings but nobody seems to really notice.

No matter what each of us received in that moment of time it became our entire world. Of course there would be the obligatory clothes, which were inevitably piled neatly to the side, to be collected later. Although we seldom got the toys we really wanted – apparently Santa Claus had a cash flow problem and couldn’t afford the most popular toys – what we got quickly made us forget about what we thought we wanted and the joy of receiving those gifts overcame any disappointment.

Looking back, I can’t recall even being disappointed at not receiving what I thought I wanted, as what I got always seemed to be even better. That’s why I knew even long after other kids my age gave up that Santa had to be real; dad couldn’t possibly afford all those wonderful presents. Only too many years later did I realize how much he would willingly sacrifice each year to make Christmas special, working long hours at the steel plant and even pawning off his few prized possession as nothing was ever allowed to break the sanctity of Christmas.

Soon after all the gifts were unwrapped we would be forced to set them aside and retreat back into our rooms to dress in our Sunday best then pile in the station wagon for a drive to the Christmas service. Even the thought of resisting this ritual seemed silly – marching into church as a family each Christmas morning was as much a part of Christmas as Christmas itself even of we didn’t fully understand the spiritual implications of Christmas at that time. But even as the priest administered the solemn sermon, already our thoughts were on the fest that would soon follow.

Within a few hours we were home again. The Christmas Spirit filled the house with a joyous mood as Christmas carols played endlessly on the record player and our attention turned from the gifts we already received to plots of pilfering the table piled high with cakes and candies laid out for guests that might drop by. With military precision us kids would band together and recon the living room then slowly sneak our way towards that table and careful not to let our presence be known, our little heads would pop up quickly as our hands reached for that morsel of sweet goodness and then a quick retreat would be made.

As all the dishes of cookies, candies, and cakes would slowly disappear the smell of Christmas dinner would fill the house. Without exception Christmas dinner would be provided with abundance in the traditional style with all the trimmings and the family would gather around the expanded table and eat. This was the one meal when no matter how dysfunctional the family was the rest if the year, we were truly family for that one meal. But then it would too soon be over and that one special day became only a memory.

These memories continue to be my Christmas and have become my ritual. Merle Haggard once sung a song about a man turning 21 in prison doing life without parole. My own ballad would not be that much different. I’ve never had another Christmas since leaving home. At 46 years old, this is now my twenty-sixth Christmas in a cage; the past 23 Christmas’ have been spent condemned to death in a cage on death row.

It is the Christmas of the past that remains my Christmas of the present. Being condemned to death I am not allowed to celebrate Christmas in any traditional sense. In the early years I would anxiously await the Christmas cards from family and friends, then hang each upon my cell wall and share the Spirit of Christmas with the few who chose to remember me. But as the years slowly passed the cards became fewer and fewer, even most of my brothers and sisters have now long forgotten me and given me up as dead. Although I remain blessed by a few special friends who make a point of sharing their Christmas Spirit with me, the friends too slowly drift away and become fewer and fewer.

Many years ago when I first came to death row we were allowed to celebrate Christmas and it was something we looked forward to. Each December we would be allowed to receive two packages from the outside world containing various necessities such as winter clothes, a pair of shoes, cosmetics and toiletries, and even a nice watch or ring. Then the Christmas meal would be traditional style, real turkey with all the trimmings and various pieces of cakes and pies. But then conservative politicians found out about the “special treatment” given to prisoners at holidays and made political careers by campaigning against these things. One by one every holiday privilege was eliminated and out of vindictive malice and spite the Spirit of Christmas was banned from prisons.

Where I once proudly displayed the few cards I’d receive on my otherwise barren grayish beige wall, I am now prohibited from doing so. Up until a few years ago I had a photo of a beautiful Christmas tree I’d tape to my back wall above my sink until one Christmas Eve a guard made an issue of it. I was ordered to remove it, but refused. A few hours later as I was taking a shower that guard went into my cell and removed that picture – ripping it into small pieces then throwing it into my toilet. That one small semblance of Christmas I so cherished was lost forever as that Spirit of Christmas was overcome by malice and spite.

Now each Christmas becomes more depressing as I become even more isolated from that world outside. Too often my thoughts now turn to my own kids and grandkids and wishing I could spend just one Christmas with them. All my own children are now grown, but I can only imagine the joy on my grandson’s face as he anxiously rips open the brightly wrapped box containing the small gift a friend so generously sent in my name.

Then I think of all the others here and in prisons across the country who like me can only think of Christmas’ past, as the Christmas of both present and future no longer even hold the hope of what the true Spirit of Christmas is about. I remain blessed by the few cards I will receive, but know that many others around me won’t get a card at all. There will be no Christmas sweets and treats. There will only be the same cold, barren walls and the sound of silence as each of us retreat into our own dreams of what once was and most likely will never be again.

So, this Christmas I ask you to remember what the true Spirit of Christmas really is as we gather to celebrate the birth of a men condemned to death for our sins, that through His condemnation each of us equally were given the gift of Hope. If those of us who claim to be Christian cannot actually be Christians on Christmas, then when can we be?

What would Jesus do of He were to celebrate Christmas today? I’d like to think that He would reach out to the lowest of the low and share hope with those condemned to death; that in the true Spirit of Christmas, in the true Spirit of Christ. Especially those condemned would not be forgotten.

To both friend and stranger equally the same, I say… Merry Christmas!!!

Michael Lambrix

Please check out my website http://www.southerninjustice.net

Monday, 22 June 2009

Death Row Recession

Unless you live in a cave – or a cage – you are more than aware that there’s a major global recession going on. Some are saying that it’s the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression of the 1930’s. Maybe they’re right, but I really don’t know as I do live in a cage here on death row as I have for the past quarter of a century. For the most part I’m isolated (or should I say “insulated”?) from that real world worry out there somewhere beyond these cold concrete walls and the rows and rows of razor wire.

In my world my economy evolves around a very simple system. I’m not allowed to work a job or earn any money. My basic needs such as food, shelter and clothing are provided for by the great state of Florida. I have a secure roof over my head and am fed three meals a day. The state provides me with a bright neon orange shirt and pants made out of what appears to be tent canvas. A couple of times a week they come around and do my laundry – it’s a lot like room service as they pick it up and then deliver it the next day.

On paper it all looks really good. The meals we are served follow a 4 week “perpetual” menu, meaning that it repeats itself every 4 weeks. It has for many years without any substantial change and after you’ve been here a while you can’t help but memorize it. Every morning before I get up I already know exactly what to expect when they bring my breakfast tray to my solitary cell, as death row inmates are not allowed to eat among other prisoners. I doubt this has anything to do with a fear that we might use our eating utensils as weapons as all we are allowed is a simple plastic spoon – never a real fork or knife.

The problem is that these meals only sound good on paper – and the paper this perpetual menu is written on probably is far more edible than the food served. I doubt anyone would expect prison food to be all that good, but I swear these people actually go out of their way to make it as bad as they can! Sometimes this can be frustrating as the food itself actually could be pretty good if only those supervising the kitchen would see to it that at least a minimal effort went into preparing it right.

Most of us here on death row purchase “canteen” food items sold by the prison commissary, upon which the prison system makes a substantial profit. From what I recently heard, just last year alone the Florida prison system made over 30 million dollars just in profits on food items sold in the prison canteen. With that kind of money being made, the prison system doesn’t have any interest in preparing and providing edible meals as by serving the crap they feed us, they force us to buy more snacks and food items from the canteen.

The problem is that when we (the prisoners) are forced to become dependent upon purchasing food from the for-profit canteen that money comes out of the pockets of our family and friends. They already pay their taxes to support the prison system, but now they must also provide substantially more, so this really is not fair to them.

Recently the prison system substantially cut back even more on the food/meals they serve us as due to the economy the Florida Department of Corrections has had significant budget cuts. For many years we were provided a diet consisting of at least 3000 calories a day, collectively for the 3 meals. That has now been reduced to 2400 calories. Additionally we are no longer given real milk at breakfast as we have for at least the past 25 years that I know of. Now they come around with a large jug of watered down powder milk and we are each provided a single cup each day.



Death row inmates no longer are fed any form of real meat other than one small thinly sliced piece of liver once each month. All other “meat” products are now some mysterious form of processed (and tasteless) meat patty or “turkey” hot dogs that taste like rubber. Regular bread that we might use to make a sandwich is now provided sparingly, replaced by what they call “cornbread” or even a couple dry, rock hard biscuits.

Because of this the death row population has now become even more dependent upon the food items we must purchase from the prison canteen. But many families and friends are now struggling themselves and unable to send as much money as they might have in better days.

To further compound this problem, the Florida department of corrections has recently increased the the prices of what is sold in the canteen. They claim that another private (for profit, of course) company has taken over management of the prison canteen system and this somehow justifies the sudden substantial increase in prices. Many items that must be bought regularly at least doubled, even tripled, in price overnight. Even a basic plain white envelope used to mail a letter out now costs 15 cents each.

The few food items they sell that could actually be used to make a meal out of now costs significantly more. For example, up until a month ago I could purchase a 4, 2 ounce pack of tuna fish for $1, 83 and it would make a pretty good sandwich. Now they only sell 2.3 packs of tuna fish for $1, 50, and it takes 2 packs to make just one decent sandwich.

We can also buy “ready to eat” meals, such as beef stew and chili with beans. Those cost about $1, 30 each, and are only 8 ounces. Each meal consists of a total of 250 calories, so you’re sure to be hungry soon after eating that if that’s all you’re eating.

A lot of the guys, including myself, would regularly buy individual packs of instant oatmeal, which previously sold for $0, 29 a pack and it would take at least two of these packs to make half a cup of oatmeal. Now this same instant oatmeal has suddenly gone up to $0, 39 each pack – that extra ten cents a pack really adds up.

We also used to be able to buy small “Little Debbie” oatmeal cakes at $0, 15 cents each. A couple would be enough to handle the hunger. But all the cheap snacks have now been eliminated and in its place we must buy pastry type cakes such as honey buns, chocolate donuts and bear claws – at $1, 50 each! These are the very same pastries that just a few weeks ago cost half that amount. The only alternative is either pop tarts, that went from $0,50 to $0,89 overnight, or Native Trail Mixed Berry bars (like granola bars) that suddenly doubled in price.

For as long as I can remember most of us have regularly bough instant “Ramen soups” as the ultimate back up. They were inexpensive, and we could salvage the potatoes, or beans, or vegetables off the food the state serves and make a soup as the main meal of the day. But now suddenly these soups cost twice what they used to. A simple pack of potato chips or corn chips also more than doubled in price, from $0, 48 to $1.29 per pack.

All of this adds up – and keep in mind that death row prisoners are not allowed to work or earn money. Everything we must buy comes out of the pockets of the family and friends willing to help us out. Our families and friends are suffering from the rough economy too – many of these are now without work or living on a fixed income. Is it really fair to them that now the state is effectively robbing them during these tough times?

But just buying the basic amount of food necessary to keep from going hungry is only part of it. The state – at best – only provides the most basic needs that they are legally required to provide. Anything beyond that the prisoner must buy himself – at a substantial profit to the state. If I want shampoo to wash my hair or a bar of soap to shower with, or deodorant so I don’t stink up my cell during the long hot and humid summer days with no air conditioner, I must buy that myself.

Equally so, if I want to write to my loved ones, I must purchase the paper, the envelopes and the ink pens. Nothing comes for free, as I must also pay all the postage to mail this out. It all adds up.

I am one of the few who are blessed with a few family and friends who do help me out. But where only recently I was able to get by with $25 to $30 a week, now to cover even the basics I must spend at least $40 a week on canteen – or go hungry.

The truth is that I don’t want to ask my family or friends for more money as it’s already hard enough on them as it is. But what am I supposed to do? It would be only too easy to say that I should eat what the state provides and suck it up. I know many here do that, as they simply have no choice. Some of those who have nothing and nobody end up committing suicide, going nuts or dying an early death of “natural” causes. I do believe that there is a direct relationship between the prolonged deprivation of basic needs in this inhumanely oppressive environment and the mental degradation that inevitably leads to suicide, mental illness and early death.

Death row is already a stressful environment. Each day all of us struggle to sustain the strength just to mentally and physically survive. And it is equally as hard on our family and friends as they too face the uncertainty of our fate. Bur unfairly adding this additional factor of price gauging is perhaps the worst thing I’ve seen in years. I can’t help but remember that just a few years ago when similar price increases were imposed on canteen good, a subsequent Federal investigation revealed that the Florida Department of Corrections director, James Crosby, was actually taking monetary bribes – pay offs – to allow the private contractor to rob the prisoners. Since then Crosby is in Federal prison himself.

Maybe its time that someone looks into the current canteen prices and the contracts awarded to for – profit companies to see who is getting the kick backs this time. But until then, I do hope that all prisoners’ family and friends will contact the current Florida Department of Corrections director Walter Mc Neil (mcneil.walter@mail.dc.state.fl.us ) and formally complain about these unfair prices.

Innocent and Executed - Please Read