The firing squad in South Carolina executed Mikal Mahdi on Friday night for the 2004 murder of a police captain, but the execution did not proceed as planned, sparking immediate scrutiny and renewed debate over capital punishment in the state.
Mahdi, 42, was pronounced dead at 7:18 p. m. at Broad River Correctional Institution after a team of three volunteers fired at him from behind a curtain.
Witnesses reported that the process was not instantaneous, with Mahdi showing signs of life for several seconds after the shots were fired.
“It was not clean. It was not the swift end that was promised,” said a legal observer who was present but spoke on condition of anonymity. “There were visible movements for nearly 30 seconds.
The room was tense. People were shaken.”
Mahdi had chosen the firing squad as his method of execution, believing it would be the least painful and most efficient option available under South Carolina law. State officials had prepared for the procedure, but early accounts from inside the chamber indicate that the execution deviated from expected protocols.
The condemned man’s final words were brief. He acknowledged the family of his victim, James Myers, saying, “I know this doesn’t bring him back. I’m sorry for what I did.”
He then nodded to the witnesses and closed his eyes.
But the aftermath is now the focus of a potential investigation. Civil rights organizations and anti-death penalty advocates are calling for a full review, arguing that the state’s duty to carry out executions humanely was violated.
“Whether you support the death penalty or not, the state must be held to the highest standard,” said an attorney for the South Carolina Innocence Project. “If reports of a prolonged death are accurate, this is a constitutional concern.”
James Myers, a public safety officer in Kershaw County, was killed on July 20, 2004, when Mahdi ambushed him at his home. Myers was off-duty at the time. He was shot multiple times, and his body was set on fire — an act that prosecutors described as evidence of a “cold, calculated killer.”
Mahdi’s crime spree had already claimed two other lives in Virginia and North Carolina. He was convicted in South Carolina in 2006 and sentenced to death. North Carolina later sentenced him to life without parole for the murder of convenience store clerk Christopher Boggs.
For nearly two decades, Mahdi’s legal team fought to overturn the death sentence, arguing that his horrific childhood — marked by severe abuse, neglect, and a father with untreated mental illness — should have been presented as mitigating evidence at trial. Every appeal was denied.
During his time on death row, Mahdi was involved in a coordinated attack on a prison guard in 2009, using improvised weapons. That incident further cemented his image as a man beyond rehabilitation.
Friday’s execution was the first by firing squad in South Carolina in over a decade. The state adopted the method as an alternative after lethal injection drugs became difficult to obtain. Mahdi was one of several death row inmates who chose the firing squad over the electric chair.
But the controversy surrounding the procedure is unlikely to end with his death. Legal experts say the reports of a prolonged death could form the basis for a civil rights lawsuit or even a temporary halt to future executions.
“The state has a moral and legal obligation to ensure that the method of execution does not cause unnecessary suffering,” said a law professor at the University of South Carolina. “If that obligation is not met, the entire process is called into question.”
Myers’ family, who attended the execution, issued a brief statement afterward: “We have waited 21 years for this day. We hope that James can finally rest. No amount of legal wrangling will bring him back, but we are grateful that the system did what it was supposed to do – hold the man responsible accountable.”
The execution also reignites a national conversation about the death penalty, particularly for offenders whose backgrounds include severe childhood trauma. Mahdi’s attorneys had argued that he was not fully culpable for his actions because of the abuse he endured.
“This is a story of a system that failed everyone – the victims, the defendant, and the public,” said a criminal justice reform advocate. “We can hold Mahdi responsible without ignoring the conditions that shaped him. That doesn’t excuse what he did, but it forces us to ask hard questions about prevention.”
Mahdi’s execution was the second in South Carolina this year and the third by firing squad in the United States since 1976. The others were in Utah, where the method has also faced legal challenges.
Governor Henry McMaster declined to intervene, despite last-minute pleas from mental health experts and religious leaders. In a brief statement, the governor’s office said, “Justice has been served for the murder of Officer James Myers and the other victims of this violent criminal.”
The exact details of what happened inside the execution chamber are expected to be released in official reports within weeks. But accounts from the witnesses suggest that the bullets struck Mahdi in the chest, but he continued to breathe and move his head for approximately 25 seconds before going still.
“The doctors came in to check, and they said he was still alive for a bit,” one witness said. “It was not like the movies. It was quiet.
But it wasn’t quick.”
Mahdi’s death marks the end of one of the most disturbing crime sprees in South Carolina history. But the questions it raises about the justice system, childhood trauma, and the morality of state-sanctioned death linger on.
As the family of James Myers tries to move forward, and as the citizens of Kershaw County reflect on a night that changed everything, the debate over capital punishment is far from settled.
“We cannot bring back the dead,” said the family’s pastor, who spoke with them after the execution. “But we can honor their memory by asking whether our society does everything it can to prevent such tragedies – and whether our methods of punishment meet the standard of justice we claim to uphold.”
For now, Mikal Mahdi is gone. The firing squad did its job. But the echoes of that evening – the sharp sound that neighbors heard, the flame that consumed a hero’s body, and the bullet that took 25 seconds to finish – will not fade easily.
“I’ll never forget the look on his face,” the witness said. “Not anger. Not fear.
Just emptiness. And then nothing.”
