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Death Row Stories: Entere the Mind of Killer

Reach into the mind of a killer; reach into the 6x9 cells these killers inhabit 23 of 24 hours a day. See their artwork sketched on scraps of paper and cardboard; read their hand-written words; understand these are men who walked along side us.

 
 
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PRLog - April 20, 2012 - OLDSMAR, Fla. -- Cop Killer. Master Thief. Thug. Playboy. Drug dealer. Outlaw … … Robert “Saint” Bailey has been all of these things over the course of his tumultuous life. Now he sits in a 6x9 cell, waiting for a lethal injection to take his life. This is his story of surviving the streets, gang life and trying to survive on Death Row in the notorious Union Correctional Institution at Raiford, Florida. It is a rare, first-hand glimpse into the mind of a cop killer … …I actually got my nickname Saint after that. My mom had come to visit me and the CO said to her that she was there to see her Devil Child. She told him, “I’m here to see my little Saint.” The name stuck and that’s what I’m known as ever since … … I ended up hooking up with a gang called the Simon City Royals. It was a brotherhood, a family, a way for me to be embraced with the love I craved. We are labeled as a gang but to us we are not a gang; we are a brotherhood – a family. A lot of people join gangs in prison for the protection it provides … … A guy in a nice suit came into my cell and told me that if the State didn’t kill me, he would make sure personally that I was killed one way or another for what I did. They took me out to the transport van where the media cameras were snapping photos and asking questions ... Circumstances of Offense: Robert “Saint” Bailey on Death Row 269 pages 11.95 Is available right now at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Circumstances-Offense-Robert-Saint-... Or at the Createspace estore: https://www.createspace.com/3781069

Killer Art: Florida’s Death Row Artists These Death Row Davinci’s sit in 6x9 cells with blank sheets of paper, spare pieces of cardboard, safety pens, crayons, leftover paints and commissary pencils trying to sketch out the imagery floating in their minds. Some sketch demons and laughing skulls. Some draw lions and tigers. Others illustrate the end of the world. All of them – no matter what the medium and the image – are trying to reach beyond the iron bars of their cells and out into the “free” world. Here is their art and some of their story. Available right now at: https://www.createspace.com/3798968

Witch. Pagan. Seeker of Truth. And Killer condemned to Death Row. Wyrd John went from a free-roving spiritual seeker of truth, wandering America, practicing the “Old Ways” of his lineage – casting spells, combining herbs and casting his energy outward into the world – until the Universe conspired against him and he ended up finding his Fate was to have murderer’s blood on his hands. Now he sits in a 6X9 cage waiting for the moon to shine through the bars of his cell … My mother told me we came from a long line of witches much later and while I had learned this already from my sister, my mother went into greater detail about how far back this went. My almost forgotten talents awoke. The hairs of my head seemed to stand on end; cold power sent chills over my skin. It was a warm and sunny afternoon. Power moved around us, and I could see it like heat rising off the asphalt in the distance, distorting the view of what was beyond. Hecate! Hecate! Hecate! Hear me. Assist me. Avenge me. For the wrongs done To my mind To my spirit To my body Joy and I repeated the words each in turn. With anger rage and fury We call upon the Sisters Three The bane of Evil The Scourge of the Vile The blight of the Deeds Dark Again we repeated the words. ORDER NOW: http://www.hedge-witcherybooks.com/index.htm

Meet the Devil! Meet the man who killed the nephew of Senator John Edwards and raped his niece! Meet the man who lived the life you have only seen movies like Hostel and Saw! Take a look into the twisted mind of a killer – if you dare: Look at my crime, accused of killing a boy and raping his sister over a 2-day period; on my jury sat a corrections officer who voted death for me, when I got sentenced to death and taken to FSP—that very same corrections officer was at the door to greet me and he and six of his buddies beat me down to the ground, I’m handcuffed and shackled—defenseless—they beat my ass, all because of what I was accused of and that guards so try. As a child, I endured pain and tortures beyond any comprehension. I was literally beaten with everything imaginable and within reach, from broomsticks, mop-handles, pieces of water-hose @ 3 ft long filled with sand, wooden rolling pins, cast iron skillets, fly swatters (metal ones), switch’s, belts, etc. and if you cried out or flinched, you got more. I have been locked in stairway closets, old packing trunks and footlockers. I have been stuck in 55 gallon drums that were capped off and filled with water forcing a sink or swim scenario for retaliation for putting my mouth to the hole so I could breathe. 246 pages Available on Amazon or directly from https://createspace.com/3840165

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