"They Have No Right to Kill Me": Is Texas Gearing Up to Execute An Innocent Man?

Editor's Note: Since this article was originally published, Hank Skinner's execution date has been moved to March 24th. Go here to learn more.

Twila Busby was Hank Skinner's soul mate. "We just fell together. We just clicked, man," he says. The two were hardly apart after they met at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. They would kiss in public and cuddled up on the couch to watch thrillers. They were "sick in love," Skinner says through a telephone receiver behind a Plexiglas window on Texas' death row unit in Livingston.

A jury found that Skinner was so sick in love that, in a jealous rage, he strangled Busby, bashed in her head and face with an ax handle and then stabbed to death her two mentally disabled adult sons on New Year's Eve 1993. He was sentenced to death for the three murders. His execution is scheduled for Feb. 24.

The 47-year-old doesn't deny he was in the small house in the tiny West Texas town of Pampa on the night of the murders or that the blood on his clothes that night belonged to 41-year-old Busby and her sons. But Skinner and his lawyers say there's no way he could have killed anyone; he was so loaded on vodka and pills that he was nearly comatose. They argue that his appointed trial attorney, a former district attorney who had previously prosecuted him for theft and assault, failed to adequately investigate other potential suspects. They insist Texas is about to execute an innocent man -- and the state has evidence that could prove it.

The night of the murders, police collected, among other items, clippings from Busby's broken fingernails, a rape kit, two knives from the crime scene, a bloodstained dish towel and a man's windbreaker with sweat and hair on it. But most of it has never been DNA-tested. During Skinner's trial, prosecutors tested some blood and hair from the scene, but not the fingernails, rape kit, knives, towel or windbreaker. Over the last decade, the state has fought Skinner in court to keep it that way. Prosecutors in Gray County and lawyers for the Texas Attorney General's Office say Skinner had his chance at trial to test the evidence but that he declined, and the jury spoke; now, they say, it's time for him to face the consequences. "It's already been handled," says Gray County District Attorney Lynn Switzer. She's the third district attorney in Pampa to deal with Skinner, who has sued her in federal court, seeking to force release of the DNA. "He doesn't need to keep trying it over and over and over again. It's already been handled."

Skinner's execution date approaches as Texas faces renewed scrutiny of its famously busy death row and the science used to convict the accused. Since 1973, just 11 death row inmates have been exonerated, according to the Death Penalty Information Center, while more than 440 have been put to death. The New Yorker touched off a national debate last year about how many of those killed might have been innocent by posthumously profiling Cameron Todd Willingham, who was executed in 2004 after a jury convicted him of killing his three young children by arson in 1991. Before Willingham was executed, according to the story, the state ignored expert reports contending that the fire may have been accidental and calling the method used to prove that it was arson "junk science." A Texas Observer story earlier this month revealed that a psychologist the state has relied on to test the mental capacity of more than a dozen death row inmates used faulty methods to boost IQ scores so the men could meet the legal standard for the death penalty. And in Dallas County, maverick District Attorney Craig Watkins has launched a Conviction Integrity Unit that has reviewed more than 400 cases in which DNA from crime scenes was still available to be tested and has discovered at least 15 wrongful convictions.