For 135 days, Marion Bowman Jr has been locked in a solitary cell narrower than his arm span, cut off from nearly all human interaction, counting down the days until South Carolina executes him. He is scheduled to be killed by lethal injection on Friday, the third man to be executed in rapid succession as the state aggressively revives capital punishment. The cases have prompted outrage over concerns about wrongful convictions, the racist application of the death penalty and the painful, drawn-out method of killing. As the state resumes execution after a 13-year-pause, the men on death row and their advocates are raising alarms about the brutal conditions they endure once placed on “execution watch”, forced into nearly 24/7 isolation for months on end as their scheduled execution nears. "Inhumane is an understatement,” Bowman told his lawyer. He has been singing spirituals and reciting scripture, and re-reading notes other men have written him as they suffered the same conditions before their executions. One note reminded him, “Don’t let the prison turn you into the animal they think that you are, the monster they think you are … We are not what the state portrayed us to be. We are kind, caring, loving people, and it’s a shame the world can’t see that.”
Bowman, 44 has been incarcerated for 24 years, convicted of the 2001 killing of 21-year-old Kandee Martin, a childhood friend. He has maintained his innocence. The primary witnesses implicating Bowman were two men also charged in the crime, who testified in exchange for reduced sentences. A third witness had separate charges by the same prosecutors, which were subsequently dropped. Bowman’s lawyers have sought to overturn the conviction, arguing the state withheld evidence impugning the witnesses, including a memo outlining a claim that one of the witnesses confessed to the shooting. They’ve also argued Bowman had ineffective counsel “infected by his own racism”; his trial attorney repeatedly referred to the victim as a “little white girl” and Bowman as a “man” (even though he was younger at age 20) and told his client he should plead guilty because a jury would “see a Black male v a white female victim” and convict him. “I was not guilty and would not say I did something I didn’t do,” Bowman said. On death row for the majority of his life, Bowman has endured by writing poetry and staying as connected as possible to friends and family, including a granddaughter he was able to hold for the first time last week.. Bonding with those imprisoned alongside him, through Bible studies, prayer groups, and games, has been vital.
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