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May 10 - Block 1st woman executed since'57
Lynda Lyon Block was executed
at 12:01 a.m. today, the 1st woman to die
in Alabama's electric chair
in more than 4 decades.
Condemned for the 1993
shooting death of Opelika police Sgt. Roger Lamar
Motley Jr., Block was electrocuted
for 2 minutes and pronounced dead at
12:10 a.m.
"She seemed to be somber,
somewhat stoic," said Alabama Prison
Comimssioner Mike Haley.
"She never displayed any emotion throughout the
very end. Her stare was
a very blank stare, an emotionless stare."
Block wore a white prison
outfit with her shaved head covered by a black
hood. She wore light makeup,
with mascara and a light shade of pink
lipstick.
Witnesses said she appeared
to pray with her eyes closed about 11:52 p.m.
She made no final statement.
When the execution began
a 2,050-volt, 20-second shock Block clenched her
fists, her body tensed and
steam came from the sponge on her head and the
electrode on her left leg.
She then received 250 volts for 100 seconds.
Widow Juanita Motley chose not to watch her husband's killer die.
"I went as far as I could
with this," she said. "I went on in and I saw
Lynda but when they pulled
the hood over her head, I asked an officer to
take me out."
Motley said Block's death
brought her scant solace. "I don't know what
closure I'm supposed to
feel at this point," she said.
Block had spent Thursday
evening in a holding cell near the death chamber
with her spiritual adviser.
Three friends visited for several hours.
Block, an anti-government
extremist who did not file legal appeals,
launched a religious fast
Tuesday and refused a final meal, said Haley.
She consumed only water
and milk.
Block, 54, and George
Sibley were convicted of capital murder in the
death of Motley, who was
shot repeatedly in a Wal-Mart parking lot.
Sibley was also sentenced
to death; his execution date hasn't been set.
Block was transferred
Monday from the Tutwiler Correctional Facility in
Wetumpka to Holman Correctional
Facility in Atmore. Prison officials then
stopped communication between
Block and Sibley, who was moved to
Donaldson Correctional Facility
in Jefferson County. "She was dismayed,"
Haley said.
Block said recently she
was forced to choose between killing Motley or
letting him shoot Sibley.
In the weeks leading up to her execution, Block
said it was a nightmarish
decision.
"I do not regret doing
what I did to save George's life," she said. "I
regret very much that I
was forced to shoot the officer."
Block, whose 9-year-old
son witnessed Motley's murder, could be the last
person to die in Holman
Prison's electric chair, known as "Yellow Mama."
The Legislature in April
made lethal injection the prime method of
execution in Alabama.
Before Block, the last
woman executed in Alabama was Rhonda Martin in
1957. She poisoned 6 family
members.
Block's hand-written will
left most of her personal property to her
17-year-old son in Orlando,
Gordon Karl Block. She left her television,
microwave, typewriter, lamp
and fan to her fellow inmates. Her mother,
Benylene Wagner, will take
possession of her body.
"I ask that my body not
be desecrated by autopsy, for it is against my
religious beliefs to desecrate
a body," Block wrote in her will. State
law requires an autopsy
anyway.
Block was allowed two
witnesses but chose only her spiritual adviser,
Sally Michaud, a former
Tutwiler chaplain who lives in Destin. Michaud
did not watch her death.
"I was distressed to find
Lynda had nobody there," Juanita Motley said.
"It seemed to me nobody
cared and that's very sad. It must have been a
very lonely, agonizing time
for her."
2 members of the victim's
family witnessed the execution: sister Betty
Anne Foshee and mother Anne
Motley, who wore her son's posthumous medal
of valor arond her neck.
"It was not hard for me
see to Lynda Lyon draw her last breath, because
that was how it was supposed
to be," said Anne Motley. "We felt like
Lynda Lyon had to pay by
giving her life for taking a life."
Block, a member of the
patriot movement who believes the government is
illegitimate and the State
of Alabama does not exist, refused to file
appeals to courts that she
contended are biased and have no jurisdiction.
She sought help from Congress
and Gov. Don Siegelman this week, but the
governor denied Block's
handwritten clemency request.
At the time of Motley's
killing, the couple were fleeing Florida to avoid
being sentenced on assault
convictions in the stabbing of Block's
79-year-old husband in Orlando.
The couple left after Block filed court
papers describing what she
considered a conspiracy by corrupt officials
in Orlando.
The couple were in Opelika's
Wal-Mart parking lot when Block's 9-year-old
son asked a passer-by for
assistance.
Witnesses said Sibley
came out firing as Motley approached Sibley's car
and that Motley was exchanging
gunfire with Sibley when Block approached
with her gun drawn. Motley
died of gunshot wounds to the chest.
Block said they were doing
nothing wrong, that she was using a pay phone
while Sibley waited. They
contended the shooting was justified because
Sibley reached for his holster.
Prosecutors said they
were heavily armed, with more than 1,000 rounds of
ammunition.
(source: Birmingham News)
Cop-killer dies in Alabama
electric chair;
1st woman executed in state
in 45 years
In Atmore, a political
extremist convicted of murdering a policeman in
1993 was put to death in
the electric chair Friday, becoming the 1st
woman executed in Alabama
in 45 years.
Lynda Lyon Block declined
to pursue final appeals late Thursday, claiming
the courts were corrupt
and lacked jurisdiction in her case. She was put
to death shortly after midnight.
Block, 54, may be the
last person forced to die in the state's electric
chair. Under a law that
takes effect this summer, condemned inmates in
Alabama will be executed
by injection unless they choose the electric
chair.
Block and her common-law
husband, George Sibley, were sentenced to death
for killing Opelika police
officer Roger Motley Jr. in a burst of gunfire
in a shopping center parking
lot. The couple said Motley was reaching for
his gun when they shot him.
Block and Sibley, who
decried government controls over individuals and
renounced their U.S. citizenship,
were on the run at the time to avoid
being sentenced in the stabbing
of Block's former husband in Orlando,
Fla.
"The Bible says when murder
happens and a person has no sorrow, they are
to be immediately executed,"
said Anne Motley, the victim's mother.
Alabama's electric chair,
built in 1927, has been used for 176 executions
since it replaced hanging
as the state's primary mode of execution.
Block was the 4th woman
put to death in Alabama by electrocution and the
1st since 1957, when Rhonda
Bell Martin was executed for poisoning her
husband with arsenic.
Block becomes the 1st
condemned inmate in Alabama to be put to death this
year and the 24th overall
since the state resumed capital punishment in 1983.
Block become the 26th
condemned inmate to be put to death this year in
the USA and the 775th overall
since America resumed executions on January
17, 1977.
(sources: Associated Press
& Rick Halperin)
Alabama executed Lynda
Lyon Block at 12:01 a.m. Friday for her role in
killing Opelika Police Sgt.
Roger Motley in 1993, prison officials said.
She was pronounced dead at 12:10 a prison official reported.
Block and her common-law
husband, George Sibley were both convicted for
killing Motley during a
gun battle in a Wal-Mart parking lot. She was
convicted of capital murder
in 1994 along with Sibley, who remain on
death row. Block may be
the last person condemned to die in Yellow Mama,
the states electric chair,
which has been in use since 1927. On July 1,
lethal injection becomes
Alabamas preferred method of execution, though
inmates can still choose
to be electrocuted.
(source: Montgomery Advertiser)
Block awaits death penalty
Barring a surprise 11th-hour
stay, Lynda Lyon Block will become the 1st
woman executed by Alabama
in nearly 45 years shortly after midnight
tonight.
Block, convicted of killing
an Opelika police officer in 1993, is
scheduled to be electrocuted
at 12:01 a.m. Friday in the death chamber at
Holman Prison near Atmore.
She could be the last person to die in the
state's electric chair,
because no other executions are scheduled before
lethal injection becomes
Alabamas official execution method July 1.
Block and common-law husband
George Sibley were convicted of killing Sgt.
Roger Motley during a gunbattle
in the Wal-Mart parking lot in Opelika.
Sibley also received a death
sentence, but his execution hasn't been
scheduled.
On Monday, Block was transferred
to Holman from Julia Tutwiler Prison for
Women in Elmore County.
Security at the Atmore facility, which houses 979
inmates including 158 men
on death row, was tightened after her arrival,
Warden Charlie Jones said.
"Security is always increased
around the prison when something special is
happening," Jones said.
Sibley was transferred
from Holman to Donaldson Prison near Birmingham
the day his wife was moved
to Holman, Hamm said.
Sibley and Block had been
convicted of assaulting Block's ex-husband in
Florida and were on the
run from police when they pulled into the Opelika
Wal-Mart with Block's 11-year-old
son in tow.
When a shopper notified
Motley that a child appeared to be in distress,
he went to investigate.
He encountered Sibley, who pulled a gun and fired
on the officer. Motley retreated
behind his police car and returned fire.
Block, who was using a
nearby pay phone, heard the shots, pulled a pistol
from her purse and began
firing on Motley. The officer was hit several
times, but it was never
determined who fired the fatal bullet.
Sibley, Block and her
son drove away, but were later cornered by police
on Wire Road in Lee County.
The heavily armed couple released the boy and
then surrendered after a
tense 4-hour stand-off.
Block has maintained her
innocence, saying she shot Motley to defend her
husband. She said the court
system is biased against her and Sibley
because of their anti-government
stance, and that they didn't receive
fair trials.
Alabama has used the electric
chair, known as "Yellow Mama" because of
its bright color, since
1927. The chair has been used in 176 executions,
including 3 women. The last
woman to be electrocuted was in 1957, when
Montgomery waitress Rhonda
Belle Martin was put to death for poisoning 6
family members.
Earlier this year, the
legislature passed a bill that makes lethal
injection the state's method
of execution. It becomes effective July 1,
though inmates will still
have the option of choosing death by
electrocution.
"If they don't actively
choose electrocution, it automatically goes to
lethal injection," Hamm
said.
(source: Montgomery Advertiser)
Lynda Lyon Block is scheduled
to be strapped into a brightly painted
yellow chair, known in Alabama
as "Yellow Mama," just after midnight tonight.
If the execution goes
as planned by Alabama's Department of Corrections,
and Block, 54, is pronounced
dead minutes later, the convicted killer of
an Opelika, Ala., police
officer could achieve a new infamy: the last
inmate in the United States
to die in the electric chair.
Alabama recently made
lethal injection its prime method of execution, and
no other executions are
scheduled there before the new law takes effect
July 1.
Gov. Don Siegelman has
said the state's change was a precaution against
the U.S. Supreme Court declaring
the electric chair to be cruel and
unusual punishment.
That leaves Nebraska as
the only state that uses the chair as its sole
means of capital punishment.
A lethal injection bill was introduced in
the Legislature earlier
this year, but the political debate shifted
toward eliminating the death
penalty altogether.
Like three other states,
Alabama still will give those condemned to death
the electrocution option.
But death penalty experts say that option is
unlikely to be carried out.
Last year, when an Ohio death row inmate
chose the chair to make
a statement against the death penalty, the state
changed its method to lethal
injection.
The electric chair option
is a "transition to make sure people didn't
complain that their sentences
had been changed," said Richard Dieter,
executive director of the
Death Penalty Information Center.
"The guillotine is gone
forever, and the electric chair will be in the
museum," Dieter said. Block's
execution "could be a historic moment --
the electric chair has been
such a symbol of the death penalty."
Block's scheduled execution
at Holman Prison, about 40 miles northeast of
Mobile, is playing out amid
a bizarre convergence of circumstances.
These include Block's
extreme anti-government stance, which has led her
to decline any legal representation,
and the residence until recently of
her common law husband,
George Sibley, also convicted in the police
killing, in the same cellblock
where her death sentence will be carried
out. For security reasons,
Sibley has been moved from his Holman cell to
a prison in Birmingham.
Block, who has no appeals pending, will not be
allowed to speak to him.
Block also will be the
1st woman executed in Alabama since 1957. Block
and Sibley met at a Libertarian
Party meeting in 1991 in Orlando and
bonded as anti-government
extremists. They renounced their U.S.
citizenship and gave up
their driver's licenses and Social Security
cards. The couple then fled
Florida with Block's 9-year-old son to avoid
being sentenced on assault
convictions in the stabbing of Block's former
husband.
Officer Roger Motley approached
their car in an Opelika parking lot after
a passer-by said a young
boy was calling for help. Both Block and Sibley
shot Motley repeatedly.
The couple claimed the
shooting was justified because Motley reached for
his holster. They also claimed
that Motley, as a government employee, had
no right to question them.
Motley was the father of 2.
After their convictions,
Block contended that Alabama never became a
state again after the Civil
War and its courts had no jurisdiction. She
never has expressed remorse.
Her April 19 execution
date was postponed by the Alabama Supreme Court.
Although no reason was given,
April 19 is the anniversary of the fire at
the Branch Davidian compound
near Waco, Texas, and of the bombing of the
federal building in Oklahoma
City.
"I'm not afraid of death,"
she said recently. "Every trip in your car is
a crap shoot, considering
all the traffic deaths there are each year."
Execution by electrocution
came about as a sideline to the competition to
expand the use of electricity
between Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse.
Since it was 1st used
in New York state in 1888, the electric chair has
claimed more convicts' lives
than any other method of execution. It was
1st used in Georgia in 1924,
after the state abandoned hanging. Georgia
switched to lethal injection
last year after the state Supreme Court
ruled that electrocution
was unconstitutionally cruel.
(source: Atlanta Journal-Constitution)
Gov. Don Siegelman on
Monday denied a clemency request from death row
inmate Lynda Lyon Block,
who is scheduled to die in the electric chair
for the 1993 shooting death
of a police officer.
Siegelman received Block's
handwritten request for a reprieve in the mail
last week. A political extremist
who would be the 1st woman to die in
Alabama's electric chair
since 1957, Block has no lawyer and has filed no
appeals.
She is scheduled to die
in the electric chair at 12:01 a.m. Friday at
Holman Prison in Atmore.
MO "There was nothing in her petition nor
anything else that would
indicate that she wasn't guilty of the crime
with which she was charged,"
Siegelman told the Opelika-Auburn News on
Monday.
"The evidence during the
trial was overwhelmingly clear. There are
absolutely no mitigating
circumstances whatsoever."
In her April 29 letter
requesting a stay, Block accused prosecutors of
deliberately losing important
case files, threatening or bribing her
former lawyer, plus other
allegations of professional misconduct.
Block and common-law husband
George Sibley were convicted of capital
murder in the death of officer
Roger Motley, who was shot repeatedly in a
store parking lot in 1993.
Sibley also is on death row for the slaying.
The couple contends the
shooting was justified because Motley reached for
his holster. Also, they
claim, public employees including police have no
power because of a constitutional
amendment approved by Congress in 1811
but never ratified by the
states.
Block's execution date
originally was set for April 19, but was
rescheduled after the Alabama
Supreme Court postponed the date until May
10. April 19 was the anniversary
of the Waco fire and the Oklahoma City
bombing.
Block and Sibley were
both wanted in Florida on outstanding charges, and
were traveling with Block's
son. Block and Sibley were both convicted of
capital murder in 1994 and
sentenced to die in the electric chair.
Block, who prefers the
name Lynda Lyon, once put out a radical political
newsletter, and she and
Sibley met at a Libertarian Party gathering in
Florida, where she lived.
The 2 describe their imprisonment as a
conspiracy by a twisted
court system.
Block may be the last
person to die in the Alabama electric chair since
the Alabama Legislature
has approved lethal injection as a method of
execution beginning July
1.
(source: Associated Press)
Woman on Death Row seeks delay
Lynda Lyon, who is scheduled
to become the 1st woman executed in
Alabama since 1957, has
appealed to Gov. Don Siegelman for a delay --
and the governor's office
is keeping mum about his response.
Lyon has been on Death
Row since 1994, when she and her hus band, George
Sibley Jr. were convicted
of capital murder in the 1993 shooting death
of Opelika Police Sgt. Roger
Motley Jr. Experts were never able to
determine who fired the
fatal bullet, and both received the death
penalty. Lyon is scheduled
to die in the electric chair at 12:01 a.m.
Friday. Sibley's execution
date has not been set.
A copy of Lyon's handwritten petition arrived Monday at the Mobile Register.
Siegelman's deputy press
secretary Mike Kanarick confirmed that the
governor received the petition
on Monday. He declined to reveal the
governor's response. Spokeswoman
Carrie Kurlander said the governor had
formed an exclusive agreement
with one unidentified news organization on
this issue.
That left Motley's widow,
Juanita Motley, frustrated and facing a night
of clicking through TV channels
to try to learn what the governor had
decided.
"I don't know what else
to do," she said. "I don't know how to get hold
of anybody."
She had spoken to the
attorney general's office earlier in the day and
nobody there mentioned the
petition, she said. She didn't learn about it
until a newspaper reporter
called her later.
"Someone should have the
courtesy to call me and say: 'Look, this is
what's going on,'" she said.
"Why not do just a press release like they
normally do?"
She said she didn't believe
Lyon should get a delay based on the grounds
in her petition.
The petition asks that
the governor assemble an "unbiased panel" of
seven people including Alabama
representatives from the media,
law-enforcement, the business
community, the clergy, a law professor
from an Alabama school,
a state legislator and a non-lawyer member of
the governor's cabinet.
The panel would hear her
and her husband's cases and decide whether to
order an investigation,
she wrote.
"With this petit-jury
of respected citizens, we feel confident that we
will have a fair chance
to prove our innocence and restore our good
names," she wrote.
Lyon claims that one of
her attorneys was threatened into abandoning her
case, that her court filings
disappeared from the record and that she
and her husband never got
to present evidence that could have gained
their release.
Her petition does not
argue that the electric chair constitutes "cruel
and unusual" punishment,
which has been successfully used to delay other
executions in Alabama.
(source: Associated
Press)
With a scheduled walk
to the electric chair drawing near, Lynda Lyon
Block has refused to file
appeals to courts she contends are biased and
have no jurisdiction, increasing
the likelihood she will be the 1st woman
executed in Alabama since
1957.
Clay Crenshaw, who handles
death penalty cases for the Alabama attorney
general's office, said Tuesday
no appeals have been filed to stop the
execution, set for 12:01
a.m. Friday in the electric chair known as
"Yellow Mama."
Block, convicted of killing
an Opelika policeman, has been transferred
from Alabama's women's prison
in Wetumpka to the maximum-security men's
lockup, Holman Prison near
Atmore, which houses the electric chair. She
is guarded 24 hours a day
by female officers.
Block and common-law husband
George Sibley were convicted of capital
murder in the death of Opelika
police officer Roger Motley, who was shot
repeatedly in a store parking
lot in 1993. Sibley was also sentenced to
death. Prison system spokesman
John Hamm said Tuesday that for security
reasons Sibley has been
transferred from death row at Holman to death row
at Donaldson Prison near
Birmingham.
Block does not have an
attorney and has filed no legal appeals to stop
her execution. But Crenshaw
said an outside party could file a petition
on her behalf to try to
stop the execution.
"We're obviously preparing
any kind of possible response might be filed
in court," Crenshaw said.
If the execution is carried
out, Block would become the ninth woman
executed in the United States
since the death penalty was reinstated in
1976.
Block did ask Gov. Don
Siegelman to stay her execution in a hand-written,
two-page letter mailed to
the governor last week from Tutwiler. The
governor denied the request
Monday.
Siegelman said Tuesday
that he never actually got her mailed letter, but
got a copy of it from the
prison system. "There was nothing in the file
that would warrant a second
look," he said.
In the letter, signed
Lynda C. Lyon, as she prefers to be known, she said
the courts were biased and
would not fairly hear her appeal. She asked
the governor to appoint
an independent panel to consider her case.
Block could be the last
person to die in Alabama's electric chair, which
was built by a convict and
1st used in 1927. The Alabama legislature last
month passed legislation
making lethal injection the prime method of
execution in Alabama. Nebraska
is now the only state in the country with
the electric chair as the
sole method.
No other executions besides
Block's have been scheduled before the new
law takes effect July 1.
Hamm said prison officials
are not handling Block's execution any
different from others, despite
her being a woman.
"She is being kept out of sight and sound of the male inmates," he said.
Block once put out a radical
political newsletter, and she and Sibley met
at a Libertarian Party gathering
in Florida, where she lived. The 2
describe their imprisonment
as a conspiracy by a twisted court system.
(source: Associated Press)
No matter how old Roger
Motley Jr. got or how proud he was of his police
uniform or how many arrests
he made, his mother never forgot how he
struggled with asthma as
a little boy, and how she would hold him upright
in her arms at night so
he could breathe.
Now she is getting ready to watch one of his killers breathe her last.
Anne Motley is not sure
what the execution, scheduled for 12:01 a.m.
Friday, will look like.
It may be troubling to
watch the execution of a woman, the 1st in Alabama
since 1957, and maybe even
more so to watch thousands of volts flow into
her body from what may be
the last use of Alabama's electric chair.
But to Anne Motley, 66, the death of Lynda Lyon is just.
"The Bible says when murder
happens and a person has no sorrow they are
to be immediately executed,"
she said.
On Monday, Gov. Don Siegelman refused Lyon's appeal for a delay.
On Oct. 4, 1993, the Motleys'
lives became tangled with those of a
middle-aged couple -- Lyon,
her husband George Sibley Jr. and her
9-year-old son, Gordon --
who were fleeing Florida.
Maybe if Roger Motley
hadn't stopped that day to get supplies from a
store in a shopping complex,
the Motleys would never have heard of George
and Lynda.
Maybe if he hadn't just
a few days earlier given his bullet-resistant
vest to a rookie cop whose
new vest hadn't arrived -- something that was
surely safe. Motley was
doing administrative work.
Maybe if Lynda and George
hadn't stopped to buy vitamins before driving
down to Mobile, where they
planned to lay low and find work.
Maybe.
That day, Roger Motley's
10-year-old daughter, Amanda, was in Missouri
where she lived with her
mother. His 14-year-old son, Mike, was at school
in Opelika. He had lived
with his father and his father's second wife,
Juanita, for 2 years.
One stepson, Scott Perkins,
was washing clothes at the uniform company he
worked for. Roger's sister,
Betty Anne Foshee, was busy at her job at
Opelika City Hall. Anne
Motley was resting in her living room where she
could watch her youngest
child, Dawn, who is mentally retarded.
On that clear October
day, at about noon, Roger Motley was walking out of
a store in the Pepperell
Corners shopping center with work supplies when
a shopper approached him,
saying a little boy with two adults had asked
for help, court records
say.
Motley went to his police
car and radioed that information to a
dispatcher. Then he found
the boy, who was sitting in an older-model Ford
Mustang that bore an unusual
car tag. Instead of a plate with "Heart of
Dixie" or "The Sunshine
State" on it, its homemade tag said UCC1-207.
The tag was a reference
to the Uniform Commercial Code, which was
designed to streamline laws
governing business transactions. Under Lyon's
and Sibley's interpretation,
part of that code allows 1 party to an
agreement to back out if
he discovers fraud.
Though it might seem obscure,
that tag summed up how the couple felt
about the U.S. government
-- that it operated under fraud, that they had
withdrawn from any partnership
with it.
Motley approached Sibley,
who was tall and white-haired and wearing blue
jeans. He asked him to step
out of the car. But Sibley said something
unexpected:
"No sir, I don't have
any contracts with the state," he said, he later
testified.
Motley had no idea that
Sibley and Lyon had renounced their U.S.
citizenship, that they had
given up their driver's licenses, Social
Security cards and that
in fact they had talked before about dying for
their cause. In their minds,
they were defenders of the U.S.
Constitution. And they had
been deeply troubled by the standoffs between
separatists and federal
agents in Waco, Texas, and at Ruby Ridge in
Idaho.
The officer would have
no idea that Lyon carried weapons everywhere she
went.
Motley asked Sibley to
step over to the police car. Sibley hesitated. He
was puzzled, he said later
in court. He wanted to show the officer papers
indicating why he didn't
have a driver's license, but he was afraid that
reaching for his wallet
would look like he was going for his gun.
"Do you have a problem
with that?" Motley said, according to Sibley, who
was the last person to talk
to him face to face.
"Yes," Sibley said.
For the previous month,
the couple stayed in motels and with friends
throughout Georgia and Alabama.
They had fled Orlando, Fla., where they
were facing sentencing in
the stabbing of Lyon's ex-husband, Karl Block.
They believed Florida
courts would not treat them fairly. Then, Sibley
testified, a friend who
was in law enforcement told them that deputies
were planning an armed raid
on them.
They were supposed to show up for a Sept. 7, 1993, sentencing hearing.
Instead, they barricaded
themselves in their home and faxed letters to
the Orlando Sentinel, indicating
they were expecting deputies to storm
their house.
"We will not live as slaves
-- but would rather die as free Americans,"
one fax said, according
to the newspaper.
A day later, they faxed
this to the Orlando paper: "The Police are here!
God have mercy on us!"
The police never came.
And on Sept. 10, they fled with Gordon in a car
packed with books, a medical
kit, guns, knives, ammunition, court papers,
a word processor, luggage,
and pillows.
Lyon and Sibley, who had
met at a Libertarian party in Florida and
published newsletters arguing
that the country had drifted from its
constitutional foundation,
were suddenly fugitives.
"Being a fugitive was
very hard," an Opelika officer would later write in
a report after talking to
Sibley. "It colored their thinking and made
them feel it was them against
everybody else and led to an attitude that
they had to defend their
lives with deadly force."
Later, Sibley swore that Roger Motley reached for his gun first.
"I instinctively reached
for mine, because I, I was fearful," he
testified.
As Motley turned and ran,
Sibley opened fire with a 7.62 mm Russian
pistol.
All over, shoppers ran for their lives.
Motley crouched behind
his police car and fired back, hitting Sibley in
an arm.
Lyon, who was on the pay
phone outside the Wal-Mart trying to sell their
Florida home, heard the
pops.
"Oh my God, no!" she cried.
She dropped the phone.
She ran toward Motley, whose back was to her, she
later told police. She drew
her 9 mm pistol. She fired. A man who was
hiding shouted, "Behind
you!" to Motley according to trial testimony. The
officer turned to look at
her with surprise. Lyon fired again. She shot
out the back window of his
squad car. He reached into the car and she
said later that she feared
he was going for a shotgun. She fired again.
Some said 3 or 4 shots.
Others said it sounded like she unloaded her
entire clip.
Was it then that Motley
hollered the distress call "Double zero! Opelika!
Double zero!" into his radio?
Everything happened in just a few seconds.
He got into the police car
and was able to push it into gear. The car
took off crazily across
the parking lot. It hit a couple cars and then
some people jumped in to
stop it.
Motley was still conscious.
He looked at people.
But he didn't talk. Earl
Summers, who tried to help, testified that he
didn't know if the officer
recognized that people were trying to help
him.
They unbuttoned his uniform
shirt. In his T-shirt, right in the middle of
his chest, was a tiny hole.
Bubbles were coming out. Paramedics,
realizing he could die,
rushed him to the hospital.
It was too late.
His family members got
visits from city officials, quick words from their
teachers or bosses. There
had been a shooting. Their husband, son,
father, brother was injured.
Get to the hospital.
"I said, 'How bad?' and
he said, 'It's bad,'" remembered sister Anne
Foshee, whose boss at City
Hall let her know. "I said, 'How? He'd been
working inside.'"
As the Motleys tried to
grasp their new reality, Lyon and Sibley were on
the run with Gordon.
They didn't know what
condition the officer was in. All they knew was
that they had to leave before
police set up roadblocks.
"We knew we had done something
wrong and were in really serious trouble,"
Lyon's statement to police
says.
Sibley argued he was justified
in firing at Roger Motley. He was merely
sitting in a parking lot
in a parked car, and the officer had no right to
interfere, he said later,
according to court records. All he wanted was
to be left alone with his
family. He be lieved strongly that the officer
was reaching for his gun,
and that when the officer ran, Motley was doing
so to find cover to shoot
him.
Lyon, too, said she felt justified.
When she turned to see
the shoot-out, all she could discern was that her
husband and son were in
the line of fire and in danger of being killed.
It did not matter that the
man crouched behind the car was a police
officer in uniform, she
testified. She said the same thing in letters to
a Mobile Register reporter,
in an exchange of correspondence initiated by
the newspaper in early March.
While she had written
and published articles supporting police officers
-- including one in 1992
following the Rodney King beating in Los Angeles
-- she did not believe they
should fall into a separate category from
other citizens. To her,
the uniform did not matter. She simply saw a man,
a stranger, shooting at
her husband whom she loved and trusted.
Sibley and Lyon led police
on a chase that reached 90 mph until they ran
into a roadblock on a Lee
County road and were surrounded.
Within a few minutes,
seeing the futility of their position, Lynda hugged
and kissed her son and sent
him away to safety. Then she and George sat
there, each holding a gun,
talking about whether to commit suicide or
whether to force officers
to shoot them.
"It's a good day to die,"
Lynda told Auburn Officer Ken Ragland, who was
negotiating with them.
For long hours they held
their weapons and talked about Waco, the U.S.
Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco
and Firearms and sniper shooting, Ragland
later testified. Ragland
told them that Lee County was home to Auburn
University, and that it
was probably the best place to surrender because
the educated people there
could probably understand their views better
than anywhere else.
But the key reason they
surrendered was a lie Ragland told: that Roger
Motley was OK.
Anne Motley would cry
for her son. And she would remember so many things.
How he was allergic to everything
-- the outdoors, fish, horses, cats.
How he was always thin and
small and as he grew older, he tried
everything to put on weight
-- malts, peanut butter, even beer once.
The images of a mother's
love for her child clash with the stomach-
twisting image of Lyon firing
at him. Lyon testified that she had taken
shooting lessons in Florida
and prided herself in her accuracy. When she
came up behind Motley, she
braced and fired like she had been taught.
"When she was shooting
my son she took up a stance just like a
professional hit man. That
was very hard to hear, you know?"
While many of Lyon and
Sibley's acquaintances have distanced themselves,
their cause has been embraced
by a small group of publishers who address
the kind of constitutional
matters dear to the couples' hearts.
The publishers have called
Alabama Supreme Court Chief Justice Roy Moore,
filed briefs on her behalf
and urged others to lobby with them.
Early in April, Sheila
Reynolds, the publisher of Arizona-based
Resurrection News and Fax
Network, sent out requests to her readers to
help change the original
date of Lynda's execution.
Lynda was 1st supposed
to die April 19, a date deemed significant by the
patriot and militia communities.
It's the date of the battle at Lexington
and Concord, the date of
the inferno at the Branch Davidian compound at
Waco, the date of the Oklahoma
City bombing.
Supporters contacted the
state, and without explanation, the state
changed the date to May
10.
The next step, she said,
is to convince Moore that as a Christian, he
should not execute a woman
who may have simply been trying to defend her
family.
"There's enough fog over
the whole thing that if I were in his place I
could not condemn someone
to death."
Investigators have never determined who fired the fatal shot.
One day soon after the
shooting, while numbly going through sympathy
cards, Juanita Motley came
across one that struck her as odd.
The writer said "she didn't
know how Lynda had gotten to the point where
she let the devil in her
life," Juanita Motley said.
There was no return address,
and at the bottom, it simply said: "Lynda's
Mom."
It took Juanita a minute to realize who Lynda was.
"From that moment, I thought
she must be a wonderful woman to even think
about sending a card," she
said. "For the last eight and a half years,
she has been in my thoughts
and prayers and I just hope God gives her the
strength to get through
what happens with her daughter."
Efforts to reach Lyon's mother were unsuccessful.
In an April 25 letter
to a Mobile Register reporter, Lyon said her mother
lets her know how Gordon,
now about 18, is doing. Other than that, she
said, her family does not
speak to her. They return her letters. She has
a 33-year-old son who might
not even know where she is, she said.
Her mother, she said, is definitely not on her side.
"Like the others, she feels I disgraced the family," she wrote.
Motley was a strict and
exacting father and stepfather, a man who loved
to joke and barbecue and
who admired John Wayne and Atlanta Braves
baseball, relatives said.
After he was killed, his
mentally retarded younger sister, Dawn, lost her
memory. Not even a year
earlier, another close relative died, this time
in a car accident.
"She felt like she was
losing her family one by one," Anne said of Dawn.
"She just got quieter and
quieter."
She forgot how to tie
her shoes and brush her teeth. She forgot where the
bathroom was and seemed
not to recognize her mother and older sister. It
took a long time, Anne said,
for Dawn to start climbing back.
"I can't begin to tell
you how many lives those 2 people have destroyed,"
she said.
Juanita and Roger Motley
had been married for 11 years at the time of the
shooting.
The person hurt worst was Roger's son, Michael, she said.
He had lived with his
mother in Missouri until moving to Alabama when he
was 12, she said. Under
his father's attention, he shone.
"I just thought the world
of Mike," Juanita said. "He had come so far in
the two years with us."
The shooting "ruined his life," his stepmother said.
Michael Motley could not be reached for this story.
Scott Perkins, who was
21 when it happened, couldn't stand to sit through
the trials.
"The more she talked,
the madder I got," he said. "She was talking about
how she was trying to protect
herself, that Roger didn't have the
authority to ask her questions,
that he was a bad person, that she was
trying to protect her child."
Lynda and George were
Libertarians, but Perkins had never heard of the
Libertarians, a political
third party that emphasizes individual
responsibility and liberty
and seeks to reduce government.
"Some of them I'm sure
are good people, but from the most part what I
read and understand about
them, they just don't seem normal to me," he
said.
The family, Christians, struggled not to hate.
"You're not supposed to
hate," Foshee said. "God said, 'You killed my
son, and I don't hate you.'"
She doesn't want Lynda Lyon to go to hell, she said.
But she does want her to die.
She'll join her mother on Friday. Or if it is postponed, then later.
"I was at the hospital
when my brother died," she said. "I went in and
kissed my dead brother's
cold forehead right after he died. So yes, I can
watch that."
Juanita believes the 2
should die, but is less certain of her ability to
watch.
"God help us if it's a
botched execution. I don't know if I could handle
it," she said.
All the Motleys are aware
that the execution might not take place this
Friday.
If Lynda Lyon chose to
argue that the electric chair constitutes cruel
and unusual punishment she
would likely join others whose cases have been
delayed until after July
1, when the state has authorized the use of
lethal injection. It's been
almost 2 years since Alabama executed anyone.
Lynda has said she is
not planning to die so soon. In her letters, she
says she is very busy and
has a lot of living left. But she has said she
will not raise the cruel
and unusual punishment argument.
"Frankly, that issue has
been done to death. (Pun intended.)," she wrote
to the Mobile Register in
the April 25 letter. "It doesn't matter how you
kill someone -- dead is
dead."
(source: Mobile Register)
Court delays execution of woman in Opelika officer's murder
The Alabama Supreme Court delayed the
execution of political extremist
Lynda Lyon Block, who was set to die for
the murder of a police officer on
April 19 -- the anniversary of the Waco
fire and the Oklahoma City bombing.
The court, in a brief order made public Thursday, rescheduled Block's execution for May 10.
The justices gave no explanation for the change, and court officials said no one requested the delay.
But the widow of the slain officer said she suspected the postponement was intended to avoid executing Block on a date that already is significant to many who share her anti-government beliefs.
"I don't want to make a martyr
out of her," said Juanita Motley. "If that's
the reason, I prefer it be
May 10."
Block and common-law husband George Sibley were convicted of killing Opelika police officer Roger Motley, who was shot repeatedly in a store parking lot in 1993. Sibley also is on death row for the slaying.
The couple contends the shooting was justified because Sibley reached for his holster. Also, they claim, public employees including police have no power because of a constitutional amendment approved by Congress in 1811 but never ratified by the states.
Block, who prefers the name
Lynda Lyon, once put out a radical political
newsletter, and she and Sibley
met at a Libertarian Party gathering in
Florida, where she lived.
Block has no active appeal
and no attorney, claiming Alabama courts lack
jurisdiction over her. She
and Sibley describe their imprisonment as a
conspiracy by a twisted court
system.
Block does not have a death
wish and hopes to win freedom both for herself
and Sibley, according to Ann
Ezelius, a Swedish death penalty opponent who
has corresponded with Block
by mail.
"They want to do this together
and both are very clued up on all the legal
paraphernalia," Ezelius said
in an interview conducted by e-mail.
Some extremist sites on the Internet describe the convictions of Lyon and Sibley as a miscarriage of justice, mentioning them alongside what is described as the government's assault on the Branch Davidians.
David Koresh and 75 followers, including 21 children, died in the blaze in Waco on April 19, 1993. Prosecutors said the deaths so angered Timothy McVeigh that he blew up the federal building in Oklahoma City, Okla., 2 years later to the day.
While the Alabama Department
of Corrections has banned Block from talking
with reporters in the days
before her execution, the victim's widow said she
wished the state would reverse
the policy.
"If they don't let her speak to the press or whoever it's just another government cover-up to their supporters," said Motley. "They are playing into her hands."
Motley was killed as he approached
the couple's car in a Wal-Mart parking
lot, where a passer-by heard
Block's 9-year-old son call for help from the vehicle.
Witnesses said Sibley fired 1st, and Block joined in the shooting after Motley was wounded.
(source: Associated Press)
Supreme Court sets April 19 execution
date for Florida woman
The Alabama Supreme Court
set an April 19 execution date Wednesday for a
Florida woman convicted in
the 1993 shooting death of an Opelika police
officer.
Barring a stay, Lynda Lyon
Block would be the 1st woman executed in
Alabama since 1957. A zealot
against all manner of government intrusion,
she has refused the help of
lawyers, contending the judicial system is
fraudulent and corrupt.
State prosecutors said Wednesday she has no active appeal.
Block, 54, and her common-law
husband, George Sibley Jr., were convicted
in the October 1993 shooting
death of officer Roger Lamar Motley while
they were on the run from a
criminal case in Florida.
Motley was slain as he approached
the couple's car in a Wal-Mart parking
lot. A passerby heard Block's
9-year-old son call for help and asked the
officer to see if everything
was OK.
Sibley also received a death
sentence and remains on death row. The
Alabama Supreme Court upheld
Block's death sentence in 1999 and Sibley's
in 2000.
At trial, Sibley and Block,
who has said she prefers the name Lynda Lyon,
said they fired at Motley and
his patrol car in self-defense after the
officer touched his holster.
But witnesses said Sibley
fired shots 1st and Block joined in the
shootout after the officer
was wounded.
Both were sentenced to die
in part because forensics experts couldn't
decide who fired the fatal
shots.
At the time, the couple was
fleeing from Orlando, Fla., to avoid being
sentenced on assault convictions
in the stabbing of Block's 79-year-old
former husband. They contend
they were innocent of assault and had become
victims in the case themselves.
The couple, whose supporters
have posted an Internet site that details
their claims of injustice by
a twisted judicial system, have refused to
pursue the death sentence appeals
they are entitled to under state law.
The courts had to appoint attorneys
to represent them at trial, but they
balked at getting help from
defense attorneys for the appeals.
Assistant Attorney General
Beth Hughes has said Sibley and Block refused
to "recognize the jurisdiction
of the Alabama courts."
Block's court-appointed defense
attorney, W. David Nichols of Birmingham,
said in 1999 that she contends
Alabama never became a state again after
the Civil War and its courts
hold no jurisdiction.
The couple met at a Libertarian
Party meeting in 1991 and became active
in its politics. They took
the position that individuals should be free
from government intrusions,
eventually getting rid of their driver's
licenses, car registrations
and birth certificates.
The last woman to come close
to execution in the state was Judith Ann
Neelley, who avoided the electric
chair when former Gov. Fob James set
aside her death sentence in
1999.
Block is the 2nd person scheduled
for execution in Alabama during April.
Gary Leon Brown, 44, of Birmingham
has an execution date of April 5.
Brown was convicted of capital
murder for the stabbing death of a
Jefferson County man in 1987.
Bills to make lethal injection
a form of execution in Alabama are pending
in the legislature, but neither
would apply to the executions scheduled
in April. The legislation,
if passed and signed, would not take affect
until June at the earliest.
(source: Associated Press)
ALABAMA----impending female execution pushed back to May
Court delays execution of woman in Opelika officer's murder
The Alabama Supreme Court
delayed the execution of political extremist
Lynda Lyon Block, who was set
to die for the murder of a police officer
on April 19 -- the anniversary
of the Waco fire and the Oklahoma City
bombing.
The court, in a brief order
made public Thursday, rescheduled Block's
execution for May 10.
The justices gave no explanation
for the change, and court officials said
no one requested the delay.
But the widow of the slain
officer said she suspected the postponement
was intended to avoid executing
Block on a date that already is
significant to many who share
her anti-government beliefs.
"I don't want to make a martyr
out of her," said Juanita Motley. "If
that's the reason, I prefer
it be May 10."
Block and common-law husband
George Sibley were convicted of killing
Opelika police officer Roger
Motley, who was shot repeatedly in a store
parking lot in 1993. Sibley
also is on death row for the slaying.
The couple contends the shooting
was justified because Sibley reached for
his holster. Also, they claim,
public employees including police have no
power because of a constitutional
amendment approved by Congress in 1811
but never ratified by the states.
Block, who prefers the name
Lynda Lyon, once put out a radical political
newsletter, and she and Sibley
met at a Libertarian Party gathering in
Florida, where she lived.
Block has no active appeal
and no attorney, claiming Alabama courts lack
jurisdiction over her. She
and Sibley describe their imprisonment as a
conspiracy by a twisted court
system.
Block does not have a death
wish and hopes to win freedom both for
herself and Sibley, according
to Ann Ezelius, a Swedish death penalty
opponent who has corresponded
with Block by mail.
"They want to do this together
and both are very clued up on all the
legal paraphernalia," Ezelius
said in an interview conducted by e-mail.
Some extremist sites on the
Internet describe the convictions of Lyon and
Sibley as a miscarriage of
justice, mentioning them alongside what is
described as the government's
assault on the Branch Davidians.
David Koresh and 75 followers,
including 21 children, died in the blaze
in Waco on April 19, 1993.
Prosecutors said the deaths so angered Timothy
McVeigh that he blew up the
federal building in Oklahoma City, Okla., 2
years later to the day.
While the Alabama Department
of Corrections has banned Block from talking
with reporters in the days
before her execution, the victim's widow said
she wished the state would
reverse the policy.
"If they don't let her speak
to the press or whoever it's just another
government cover-up to their
supporters," said Motley. "They are playing
into her hands."
Motley was killed as he approached
the couple's car in a Wal-Mart parking
lot, where a passer-by heard
Block's 9-year-old son call for help from
the vehicle.
Witnesses said Sibley fired
1st, and Block joined in the shooting after
Motley was wounded.
(source: Associated Press)
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