I had the chance to tour Nevada State Penitentiary's execution chamber the day before it was used to end the life of Daryl Mack.
I thought I might have had more of a reaction standing there in the converted gas chamber, touching the table where men have breathed their last, while looking into the faces of the families they stole lives from. I peered through the bars into the cell where the next day Mack would eat his last meal before taking the short walk to his death.
But I didn't feel much of anything. It's because this wasn't so much an execution chamber as a facility for state-assisted suicide.
Mack wanted to die, so the State of Nevada obliged. He was spared a life living in a prison cell, and for a few more weeks, his name was in the headlines and on the news. He was somebody again, more than just a number. His suicide brought protesters out on both sides. People cared about him.
And while I'm sure the victims' families will disagree, I can't help but think it is wrong to let Mack more or less determine his end. If someone likes his punishment, then it's not the right punishment. Have we all forgotten the lesson of the rabbit and the briar patch?
I was reminded of this when the jury in the case of Zacarias Moussaoui decided life in prison was a better punishment for this admitted member of al Qaida. Here was another criminal hoping the government would make a spectacle by turning him into a martyr.
It was a strange trial, as Moussaoui's guilt wasn't really in question, though his level of involvement was. Moussaoui did his best to make himself look as guilty as possible and was unrepentant in the extreme.
He was making the best case he could to complete the suicide mission he was training for. He hoped to hit the fast lane to heaven, where his flock of virgins would be waiting for him. His execution would be big news worldwide, and other Islamic radicals would celebrate him, and dedicate acts of terrorism to his memory.
But alas, a smart jury saw the light and didn't give him what he desired. The judge in the case, Leonie Brinkema, said it best. "You came here to be a martyr in a great big bang of glory but to paraphrase the poet TS Eliot, instead you will die with a whimper."
So now, he will live in a hole in Super Max for the rest of his life. We will not be hearing of endless appeals, pressure for a lesser sentence from the French government, the countdown to his execution, the protests, his last meal, his defiant last statements to the world, and his followers celebrating his martyrdom.
He will become a footnote in the history of the 21st century. His death years from now will garner hardly a mention. There will be no martyrdom, no followers, no virgins. The memory of his life will blow away like so much dust.
We Americans spend way too much effort turning our villains into celebrities. Too many of these animals commit their crimes for the attention it brings. Perhaps we need to end their rock star treatment and stop giving them what they want.
While the death penalty might satisfy the desire for vengeance, throwing these murderers into the dark hole of anonymity for life might be better for all concerned.
Those seeking public attention must be shown that committing crimes will not get them what they desire. Don't give them the option of making a big splash. Let them go out with a whimper.