Would you like two pints of mint choc-chip or a single olive with your lethal injection?

Death Row has always fascinated me. Rows and rows of men who at maybe one point in time made a decision that resulted in them living the claustrophobic life of a box resident whilst waiting to die. I can not begin to imagine the thoughts that go through a persons head when they are being lead to a chair or a table, and as much disgust and hatred that's directed at these people, I have never felt as if they are so different from myself. After all, they are people. As someone who has experience with addictions and uncontrollable impulsivity and tricks of the mind, I've always thought to myself, that could be me, there, peeing next to my bed, petting my cat an watching the clock. It doesn't matter how repulsed I am by the thought of taking a life, it only takes one impulse, one flash of uncontrollable urge or anger, and its done. And,before you even know it, there you are sitting along side the people you thought you were so diffferent from, on death row. Sometimes I have dreams where I relapse or  commit a terrible act and I wake up to the most euphoric feeling of relief. But I wonder, if I'm capable of doing something awful in my subconscious, who's not to say it can't transfer into my consciousness?

And now, Henry Hargreeves has provided us with a link to the minds of America's most lethal serial killers...by photographing the requests of their last suppers. By providing us with a tangible and relatable peephole into the last wishes of a condemned man, Hargreeves has forced us all to acknowledge our ability to identify with murderers and rapists.
The meals range from huge mounds of deep fried comfort food to more eccentric requests (One man requested merely a single pitted olive) which you cant view without feeling their is a sinister message being conveyed through their final act.




My friends and I used to play the Death Row Last Supper game all the time. I always felt it was a good way to really get to know somebody, as their last wishes and behaviour tell you a lot about that person. My fantasy was to have my primary school team of Dinner ladies flown out to cook the Roast Dinner and Syrup Sponge and Custard that will be engraved in my memory until the day I die. Unfortunately, the American Prisons don't tend to go to such distances to satisfy the wishes of a man that will be dead the following morning, and in all honesty I really don't think I could stomach anything the night before I die. Maybe Seafood, like the kind you get by the sea on holidays, complete with big tomatoes and frites. Who knows. Whatever I choose, as long as it my final meal ends with Syrup Sponge and Custard, I will die a sufficiently satisfied girl.

Read the Full Interview Here


(Death row, Deat row final meals, serial killers, henry hargreeves, last supper, pitted olives, mint choc-chip ice cream)