In this interview, law professor Corinna Barrett Lain discusses her book Secrets of the Killing State, which exposes the troubling realities behind lethal injection as a method of execution. Lain, a death penalty researcher and law professor, explains how lethal injection is based on “fake science” rather than medical expertise, details the extensive secrecy measures states use to hide botched executions, and examines why current US Supreme Court doctrine fails to address the practice’s constitutional problems. She also shares how the death penalty affects victims’ families and reflects on cases like Brian Dorsey—a Missouri man executed in April 2024 for the 2006 murders of his cousin and her husband, despite unprecedented clemency support from over 70 corrections officers, five jurors from his trial, and a former state Supreme Court judge—that shaped her perspective on state-sanctioned killing.
This interview was conducted by Alanah Vargas, JURIST Associate Editorial Director. Special thanks to Ingrid Burke Friedman, JURIST Editorial Director, for coordinating with Professor Lain.
What inspired you to write “Secrets of the Killing State?” Was there a particular event or realization that compelled you to investigate and expose the realities of lethal injection?
I am a death penalty researcher, and I had a research question: why are states so bad at executions by lethal injection? We know how to put down our beloved pets. We know how physician-assisted suicide works. So why am I seeing two-hour long executions? Why am I seeing people wake up in the midst of their execution and try to get off the gurney? Why am I seeing autopsies with 18 puncture wounds? There is a whole faith story behind the decision to commit to writing a book about what I found, but that’s the research question that started this journey.
How did your background as a law professor and death penalty expert influence your approach to this subject? In what ways did your academic and professional experiences shape the narrative and analysis presented in the book?
I’ve done a good bit of legal history work as an academic, and I think that experience—just having the skillset of managing lots of sources, peeling back layers of information to get to the truth, and storytelling—was invaluable in this project. I’m also a former prosecutor, and that gave me experience putting together chunks of information in a compelling way, which also came in handy. Most fundamentally, though, I’m a researcher, so my approach to projects comes from a place of intellectual curiosity. I don’t have a preconceived idea of where I’m going. I ask a question and then go where it leads me. That’s what shapes the narrative and analysis.
The book challenges the perception of lethal injection as a humane method of execution. What are some of the most significant misconceptions the public holds about this practice?
I think the public’s misconceptions are the same misconceptions that I had. I thought there was science behind lethal injection—surely someone didn’t just make this up off the top of his head. But shockingly, that’s exactly what happened. And I thought doctors were pushing the syringes. But that’s not true either. The people pushing the syringes are non-medical prison guards. And the list goes on.
What one state senator said sums up lethal injection really well. He said, “Lethal injection is sold to the public as humane. It’s as if we are selling the idea that it’s putting your pet to sleep. But that’s not what it is. Then to perpetuate that lie, we have to lie and lie and lie and lie and lie again.” That’s the gist of it—one big lie, and then a bunch of other lies to keep the first one going.
The term “fake science” is used in your book. Could you explain what this entails in the context of lethal injection protocols and their purported efficacy?
Lethal injection is based on the illusion of science, the assumption of science. But it’s all a façade. The person who invented lethal injection in 1977 was the Oklahoma state medical examiner, a man who referred to himself as “an expert in dead bodies but not in how to get them that way,” and who later admitted that he had done no research when he came up with the three-drug protocol that every state would use for the first 35-40 years of lethal injection. This is a problem that continues today because the medical profession is dedicated to saving lives, not ending lives. Doctors don’t want anything to do with this, so states are often devising their drug protocols with no expert advice whatsoever. I found lawyers looking online to figure out what drugs to use, but they’re not doctors and they don’t understand the science, so they get the science wrong. We think there’s science because we can’t imagine that people would be just making this stuff up. But that’s exactly what’s happening.
Your book discusses decades of state secrecy surrounding lethal injection. Can you speak more about that? Did you receive any pushback while conducting your research?
My title is “Secrets of the Killing State” because the entire book is spilling secrets—information that states have worked hard to hide. Secrecy statutes are a part of the story, but states do lots of things to keep their indiscretions and torturous deaths secret. They close the blinds when an execution goes wrong so witnesses can’t see what is happening. They turn off the sound. They prevent reporters from carrying pen and paper so they can’t document what they see in real time. And they issue statements that simply deny anything went wrong, even when a room full of people saw it with their own eyes. It took me an entire chapter to detail all the ways that states use secrecy to hide the flaws with lethal injection.
I have not experienced pushback, perhaps because I made a strategic decision early on that I would base this project entirely on what I could document in writing. It allows me to say, as I do in the introduction, I brought the receipts. I have support for every single thing I say.
Can you discuss whether there are any accountability measures in place to provide justice for victims’ families, or any policies that the public is advocating for to help prevent future executions by lethal injection?
I’m glad you asked about victims’ families, because as a former prosecutor, I think about the family members quite a bit. This is not an issue I talk about in the book, but one thing I saw firsthand from my research is that the death penalty is actually quite terrible for victims’ families. These family members are told that they will get closure, and nothing could be further from the truth. It takes decades for a capital case to wind its way through the system, and given the extremely high reversal rate (anywhere from 50 to 70 percent of death sentences are reversed for serious error) and the fact that we now have over 200 exonerations from death row, it’s hard to say we should just hurry up. If we’re going to have the death penalty, we need to get it right, and that’s going to take time—a good ten years, often twenty. Given that, we should be telling family members that they will not have closure, that they will wait and wait, and even then, chances are high that the death sentence will be reversed. I have come to see the death penalty as an added cruelty to victims. Perhaps this is why more and more family members are advocating against the death penalty, arguing that if the state really wanted to serve victims’ families, it would take the millions spent on the death penalty and put them into victims’ services and law enforcement instead.
What challenges did you face in uncovering information for this book, given the clandestine nature of the subject? Were there any particular obstacles in accessing documents, testimonies, or data?
Much of the information I was able to find on my own. But some was in litigation files that were not accessible to the public, so I needed attorneys to share the documents. Figuring out who might have what was a challenge. I also relied heavily on the good work done by investigative journalists, many of whom risked their livelihoods to unmask the things they did, and my hat goes off to them. And some of the information came from freedom of information act requests, which states generally fought—and lost.
Based on your findings, how does lethal injection measure up against the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition of cruel and unusual punishment? Do you believe current practices violate constitutional standards?
The lethal injection should violate the Eighth Amendment. However, under the Supreme Court’s current Eighth Amendment doctrine, it does not. The Supreme Court has decided three lethal injection cases—Baze v. Rees in 2008, Glossip v. Gross in 2015, and Bucklew v. Precythe in 2019—each time moving the goalposts of what it takes to make an Eighth Amendment claim.
In Baze, the prisoners argued based on the few Eighth Amendment cases that had been decided that the showing for a violation of the “cruel and unusual punishments” clause was “unnecessary pain.” They had a good argument that the traditional three-drug protocol imposed unnecessary pain—the second drug in the protocol is a paralytic that causes prisoners to slowly suffocate, and its only purpose is making lethal injection look peaceful. The Supreme Court rejected the “unnecessary pain” standard, ruling that prisoners had to show “a substantial risk of serious pain,” and ruled that the second drug had a legitimate state purpose: ensuring a “dignified” death. The prisoners lost.
In Glossip, the prisoners had pharmacology experts and texts backing up their claim that the drug at issue in that case (midazolam) caused a substantial risk of serious pain. The Supreme Court rejected their claim, ruling that when prisoners challenge an execution method under the Eighth Amendment, they must provide the state with an alternative way to kill them. The prisoners hadn’t done so (because it wasn’t the law), so they lose again.
In Bucklew, the prisoners pointed to nitrogen gas as the alternative method, using a 14-page report that the Oklahoma legislature had used to adopt the method. The Supreme Court held that a showing of excruciating pain was not enough. Prisoners had to show that the state “superadded” pain—that it did something on purpose to make it that way—and the Court rejected the prisoners’ alternative because it lacked specificity. The Court faulted the prisoners for not stating the percentage of nitrogen gas to be used, and for how long, and for not listing the safety measures for the people who are executing them.
These cases together make me skeptical that the Eighth Amendment is the answer to lethal injection’s torturous effects. That’s why I wrote this book for the public.
How do you respond to proponents of the death penalty who argue that lethal injection is a necessary and humane method of execution? What counterarguments does your research provide?
I take the states’ claims in these cases seriously. I present them in the book and then show that the studies that states are relying on in court don’t say what states say they say. In one case, the scientist who conducted the study actually said, ‘That’s not what we were studying and it doesn’t support the claim.’ There were many times that I wanted the state’s claims to be right. They weren’t. As far as the argument that lethal injection is humane, I think it would be very hard to read “Secrets of the Killing State” and conclude that lethal injection is humane. There are over 70 pages of research in the back of the book—just over 1,000 endnotes—documenting the facts, and debunking false claims.
What impact do you hope “Secrets of the Killing State” will have on public discourse and policy regarding the death penalty? Are there specific reforms or actions you advocate for based on your research?
I think people should know what the government is doing in their name, particularly when it comes to the state at its most powerful moment—when it purposely takes life. What I found was information that not even I knew, and I’m a death penalty researcher. So my main aim is informing the public of what states are doing in their name, with their tax dollars.
More broadly, I’ve come to think that the real work that lethal injection is doing is hiding the violence inherent in state killing, so we aren’t thinking about what the death penalty actually is. When we talk about the death penalty, we tend to talk about it in the abstract. Lethal injection keeps the death penalty abstract. It buries the brutality that executions entail so that the political uses can flourish. But the death penalty is not just some abstract idea. It is brutality in response to brutality, and anything that makes it look like something else is an intentional deception. If we’re going to have a death penalty, we ought to be honest about what it is. These are the conversations I’d like to have.
As far as specific reforms, the use of secrecy to hide the ugly underbelly of state practices should be prohibited. I don’t think it works to say ‘this is a democracy and people want the death penalty’ when states are purposely hiding all sorts of things about it because they know people would not accept it.
How do you envision the book influencing future legal challenges or legislative efforts?
I don’t think courts are going to take these claims seriously until there is widespread distrust about lethal injection; only then will courts stop assuming these are frivolous claims. My hope is that people will start talking about state executions, and that this will lead to a hard look and candid conversations about whether the state can be trusted to kill at all.
Will you speak about any particular stories or cases that profoundly affected you during your research? How did these experiences shape your perspective on the death penalty and its implementation?
The case of Brian Dorsey, which I wrote about in my epilogue, comes to mind. Dorsey was convicted of a double murder and sentenced to death in Missouri. Seventeen years later, he’s up for execution and a group of former and current corrections officers try to stop it. They write an op-ed where they basically say, yeah, he did do that, but that’s not who you’re about to kill. That killer that you want to kill, he’s long gone. By then, Dorsey was the prison barber, and had been for over a decade. He cut not only the other prisoners’ hair, but also, by choice, the hair of prison guards and the wardens. Stop and think about what that actually looked like—a condemned capital murderer, holding a pair of scissors at the neck of the wardens and prison guards. The corrections officers said he’s an excellent barber, and a kind and respectful man. “There isn’t a nicer guy than Brian,” they wrote. They also said that if the state made them kill this man they had come to know and respect, it would traumatize them. But the governor did not issue a reprieve, and the guards that had come to know and admire Dorsey had to then kill him. So often, we are killing someone who has killed, but is no longer a killer. But who are we creating when we ask someone to kill as part of their job?
