Behind the Book
Epilogue
This book was based on research—copious amounts of it—and the research speaks for itself. But that research has changed me in unex- pected ways, and it is only fitting to end by sharing an insight that was not part of this project, but that I learned along the way. I have been writing about the death penalty for almost two decades, and have always viewed condemned prisoners as people who did horrible, unspeakable things (probably), but still deserved the protection of the law. Arguably, even more so. But I confess that I have kept my distance from the humanity of the faceless convicted capital murderers I have been studying all these years.
Testimony
I’m a law professor—a researcher by trade. Everything about my profession is fact-based and not in the spiritual realm. But the Lord called me to write a book about lethal injection, and here is how it began.
I am a death penalty researcher, and in 2017, I was working on an article about the death penalty that had a section on lethal injection. I could not find the research for the point I wanted to make. A friend suggested that I do the research myself and then cite it in the death penalty article, so that’s what I decided to do.
By the end of the year, it was clear that my lethal injection project was a book. I did not want to write a book. I had already set down another piece because it needed book-length treatment. I set this down too.
In January 2018, I went to a law professor conference that I rarely attend (it was in San Diego, enough said). Over and over I was asked “what are you working on?” This is apparently how we law professors socialize, but I was stuck in my research so it was anxiety-producing. After one particularly stressful lunch, I skipped the 1pm session and went back to my hotel room to pray.
I remember praying, “Lord, you know I don’t want to write a book. But if I knew this was from you, if I knew that this is what you were calling me to do, that would change everything. But please Lord, speak clearly, because I’m otherwise not inclined to do it.”
Then I opened the drawer next to the bed—I was praying on my knees against the bed, and the side table was right there. I thought maybe there would be a Gideon’s Bible in the drawer, and there was. I cracked it open. And it opened to this page:
“My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the king; my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.” I remember thinking, whoa, I guess I’m going to write a book on lethal injection.
And so I did. I researched and wrote for just over 5 years, including the year I had spent working on what I thought was an article. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve been a law professor for 23 years.
I had a draft by January 2022. But to my dismay, no publishers wanted it. When the last “no” came in December, I went home, wept, and prayed. The Lord had been so faithful. I had received confirmation time and again that I was doing what I was called to do. How could this not work out? I remember praying “Lord I’m hurting. I just need to know you are still here. I need to hear from you now.”
I closed my eyes and opened my Bible—a habit that started that first fateful day in San Diego. Years of doing spirit-led readings, and never had the pages opened to this: Habakkuk. I had never even heard of Habakkuk. I read the passage, then flipped back—this book is just 2 ½ pages long! I took this picture to remember the moment.
The words leapt from the page: “And the Lord answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak and not lie; though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come; it will not tarry.”
I didn’t know how it was going to happen. But in that moment I knew that it would happen. I needed to wait, and while I waited, I needed to go back and “make it plain.”
Astoundingly, the same passage came to me two other times, in two other Bibles, over the next month. It even came to me in a nail salon! It was a Sunday, so I decided to put in my airpods and listen to a sermon while getting a pedicure. I googled “waiting on God” because that was the season I was in, and the first sermon that came up was by a woman named Stephanie Ike. Never heard of her. It was titled “waiting on God” so I hit play. Sixteen minutes in, she turned to the very same passage of Habakkuk (pictures taken!). Her sermon explained Habakkuk’s command to wait. So wait I did. And wait. And wait.
Six months later, I gave a talk in Puerto Rico and passed the booth at NYU Press. I had heard that NYU Press sold books for a general audience, and the woman was just sitting there, so I stopped and asked if it was true. “Yes,” she answered, “and I’m the one who does it.” Two months later, I had a book contract with NYU Press.
NYU Press chose Easter 2025 as the book release date. That decision was made a year and a half ago—long before Pope Francis declared 2025 to be the year of the Jubilee and then called for ending the death penalty as a tangible expression of hope for the Jubilee year.
My book contract coincided with my sabbatical (because that’s how the Holy Spirit rolls), and just after signing my contract, a month-long writing retreat, free, fell upon me in Rome (it was also known as dog sitting for a friend who works at the UN there).
At the end of my time in Rome, I took a tour of the Vatican gardens. Only Italian was available and I don’t speak Italian, so I didn’t bother getting the tour guide headphones. Instead, I put in my airpods and listened to my “Jesus Jams” playlist that I had made over the course of writing the book, talking to God about the beautiful walk He had given me and thanking Him for His faithfulness at every turn. I went to take a picture of a pretty fountain with frogs, when a white dove photobombed my picture!
To this day, it is hard to believe that I took that picture. This really happened. That dove did not even land. It flittered in and out, and the picture I took was perfect. I could not have taken that picture if I had tried.
Writing this book changed me. It gave me a front-row seat as to who condemned prisoners are at the end. Not who they were at the time of their crime, but who they have become, and who others are capable of becoming. For so many, the person who committed that terrible crime just isn’t there anymore. I ended up writing an epilogue about redemption on death row.
I have come to understand deep in my soul that God can use anyone to do His Holy work. Even a law professor. And more to the point, even a condemned murderer. The greater the brokenness, the deeper the despair, the stronger the testimony of a life changed by grace.
I release this testimony to serve the purpose to which God has assigned it.
Corinna Lain
