Two death row inmates met their fates just minutes apart on Thursday, a stark reminder of justice’s unyielding hand in a nation grappling with the morality of capital punishment.
The New York Post reported that Geoffrey Todd West in Alabama and Blaine Milam in Texas were executed on September 25, 2025, using nitrogen hypoxia and lethal injection, respectively, for heinous crimes that shocked their communities.
West, 50, was convicted back in 1999 for the cold-blooded murder of Margaret Parrish Berry, a 33-year-old mother of two, shot during a gas station robbery alongside his then-girlfriend.
His execution at William C. Holman Correctional Facility marked Alabama’s continued use of nitrogen gas, a method some call innovative and others deem experimental.
Strapped to a gurney with a gas mask over his face, West endured a grueling 26 minutes as nitrogen suffocated him, declared dead at 6:22 p.m.
Witnesses reported him gasping, rocking his head, and foaming at the mouth within the first two minutes—a grim spectacle that raises questions about whether this method is as “humane” as proponents claim.
Yet, West’s story carries a rare twist of redemption, having spent years on death row expressing guilt and even forming a bond with Berry’s son, Will.
Their exchanged letters revealed a heartfelt forgiveness from Will, a gesture that cuts against the grain of today’s vengeance-obsessed culture.
“I forgive this guy, and I don’t want him to die,” Will Berry wrote, a plea that fell on deaf ears as Governor Kay Ivey denied clemency. It’s a noble sentiment, but in a state bound by law-and-order principles, personal mercy often bows to public duty.
Will’s request to meet West in person was also rejected by prison officials, a decision that smacks of bureaucratic coldness over human connection. While West found spiritual solace, having been baptized in the Catholic Church last year, the state’s resolve remained unshaken.
Contrast this with Blaine Milam, 35, executed via lethal injection in Texas mere minutes after West, for the horrific murder of 13-month-old Amora Carson. Convicted of capital murder, Milam and his girlfriend, both 18 at the time, subjected the toddler to unimaginable cruelty during a so-called “exorcism.”
Prosecutors detailed a 30-hour ordeal where Milam beat Amora with a hammer, bit, strangled, and mutilated her, all under the delusional belief she was possessed, as claimed by her mother.
A pathologist testified to multiple skull fractures, broken limbs, and countless bite marks—brutality so severe the exact cause of death couldn’t be pinned down.
Milam’s girlfriend, also convicted, escaped the death penalty, a disparity that fuels debate over fairness in sentencing. Meanwhile, Milam pointed fingers at her, showing no regret for a crime that horrifies even the staunchest law-and-order advocates.
Despite stays of execution in 2019 and 2021, Milam’s final appeals to the U.S. Supreme Court were rejected on the day of his death. It’s a reminder that justice, while sometimes delayed, often finds its mark in Texas, a state not known for second-guessing its penalties.
These cases, though miles apart, reflect a nation wrestling with the death penalty’s purpose—retribution or rehabilitation? West’s story, with its flicker of forgiveness, clashes with Milam’s unrepentant cruelty, yet both ended in the same finality.
Critics of capital punishment will undoubtedly seize on West’s execution visuals—gasping and struggling—as evidence of cruelty, while progressive voices might decry the lack of mercy. But for many Americans tired of endless appeals and soft-on-crime policies, these executions signal that consequences still matter.
With 33 executions carried out in the U.S. this year, alongside three stays and one natural death on death row, the debate over state-sanctioned death isn’t going away. It’s a tough issue, but skirting accountability for monstrous acts like Milam’s risks eroding the very fabric of justice.