Based on episode "2245"
February 1990

Tom helped me clip a tag that said "visitor" on my black jacket, and we stood in front of vertical metal bars in a room with a dozen other people. An officer pulled back the curtain, and we saw Ronnie Seebok strapped down to a gurney. His arms were extended out, and he was staring up at the ceiling. It was ten minutes before midnight.

Tom whispered to me, "you don't have to be here, you know."

"I know," I said. I crossed my shaky arms, not looking forward to seeing the execution of a boy that killed one of our undercover officers at Jump Street. The officer wasn't on my team but I did talk to him a lot because we were in the same precinct. Ronnie was a minor tried as an adult, and was sentenced to death row.

Ronnie was still so young. He had long brown hair and some dark stubble on his chin. He wore a blue button up that all the prisoners wear, with a patch that had his number stitched on the chest: 001284. He had a tight black strap that restrained him to the table across his chest, and another across his stomach.

Tom told me about how he tried to talk to Ronnie earlier about making a PSA video to advise other teens not to commit crime. One thing led to another, and Tom ended up promising Ronnie that he would go to his execution. After he told me that, I couldn't make Tom go through that alone.

It had been a few weeks since my time in the basement of the Red River Strangler. The bruises I obtained from my three weeks there on my face had finally faded away, and I was lucky that my nose didn't break and none of my teeth chipped. I have scar tissue balling up in my top lip, that I don't think will ever go away. I haven't left Tom's side since we have been reunited. I was still working through the psychological issues that I suffered through that ordeal, but I was almost numb to it now. It's been hard to sleep, and I jump at every noise like a terrified cat. And, I will never be able to listen to salsa music for the rest of my life.

Ronnie turned his head and scanned the room until he landed on Tom. He looked back up at the ceiling, breaking heavily. A pole was brought into the room where three bags hung from it: sodium thiopenthal, Pavulon, and potassium chlorine. All together they made a deadly injection.

A man dressed all in white opened the door into the execution room with a cart. He wrapped a blue band above Ronnie's elbow, and he disinfected the area with a white swab. Ronnie's face winced when the man stuck the first needle into his arm. The kid looked terrified. I almost couldn't imagine knowing that you weren't going to wake up the next day, and death was on your doorstep.

The man did the same to the other arm, and Ronnie watched as the needle went in. I saw his eyes linger at Tom, as if Tom was giving him the support he needed to go through this execution. He stayed looking at Tom for a while, but when a man in a suit began talking, he looked up at the ceiling again.

"Ronald Seebok, I have a warrant from this state which sentences you to death by lethal injection for the murder of Robert Cooper. You can make a statement at this time."

Ronnie was silent and he shook his head so lightly, it was difficult to notice.

The warden nodded, and the executioner began putting the needles that were connected to the bag of sodium thiopenthal into the needles that were already in Ronnie's arms.

Ronnie was anxiously tapping his fingers.

I heard Tom gulp and I leaned into his side in an effort to comfort him. He had to spend a lot of time with this kid, and I knew this was painful for him. I never even met Ronnie, and this was hard for me. Just a few weeks ago I was terrified for my life, and the unknown for my demise. I didn't want to die, so I could imagine how Ronnie felt. Except Ronnie's demise was decided by a judge months ago. He knew this was coming, and he must have felt so alone.

Ronnie began blinking hard, still tapping his fingers as the medicine flowed through his blood stream. He seemed to be trying to fight it.

His eyes finally drifted closed peacefully, and his fingers twitched until his only movement was labored breathing. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully. We could only hope.

Next was the bag of Pavlon. The executioner put the needle into the second opening of the needle in his arm, and let the medicine drip into his blood stream.

Ronnie began gurgling, and I looked up at the ceiling and felt warm tears well in my eyes. I sucked in my cheek and anxiously bit down. It was a lot harder for me that I anticipated. It was the only sound in the room. I sniffed and looked back down at him. Even Tom was flexing his face to hold back emotion. I held onto Tom's arm, unable to look away from Ronnie. Tom was gripping the metal bar in front of us with both hands.

The last needle from the bag of potassium chlorine was inserted into Ronnie.

Ronnie gurgled harder, and Tom had to look down and he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. He covered his lips with his fist and he scrunched his nose.

Suddenly, Ronnie was incredibly still. The unsettling noises ceased, and even his chest froze. Not even a twitch.

I glanced over at the clock, time of death was 12:03am.

The doctor walked over to Ronnie's body and used his thumb to open his eyes manually in order to shine a light on his pupils. Once it was officially determined that he was dead, two men draped a white sheet over his body and began to wheel him out.

Everyone in the room was silent. The doors opened, and people slowly began filtering out. A few people did stay behind, and we were two of those people. I looked up at Tom, and he did not seem like he was ready to move any time soon.

After a few minutes, I put my hand tenderly on Tom's shoulder and said gently, "we should get going."

"In a minute," he said back in a hoarse voice.

"Take your time," I said back in a soft voice. I repositioned my hand on his shoulder blades and began to rub up and down his back gently. He swiftly stepped into me while wrapping his arms around me, and he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

It's not very often that Tom hugs me for emotional support, so I hugged him back harder. I closed my eyes, and I could feel him tremble ever so softly in my arms. I placed my hand on the back of his head, and ran my nails up and down his scalp lightly while lovingly stroking his hair. That's what I like when I'm hurt: someone to stroke my hair.

I refused to let go until he did. When he finally took a step back, he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed. There was something about this case that really hit home for Tom, probably because he had to spend time with a minor who was getting executed. That's almost unheard of.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready," he nodded.

"Okay," I said and took his hand. I rubbed small circles with my thumb along the back of his hand, and he seemed to like that.

We walked silently hand in hand out of that room, all the way until we reached the car.

This one was kind of a downer, I'm sorry!
The next chapter is Mickey going to court for the school bus incident!
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