5 MINS AGO: Harold Nichols JUST Executed | Crime, Final hours, Final Meal & Words | Tennessee USA
On December 11th, 2025, after spending 35 years on death row, Harold Wayne Nichols was executed by lethal injection in Tennessee. In this video, we will uncover what happened, his last meal, and his last words. His story is one of brutal violence, profound remorse, and decades of legal battles that would test the very meaning of justice.
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The Crime and the “Red-Headed Stranger”
Karen Pulley was 20 years old, a college student described as bubbly, happy, and selfless, looking forward to a bright future when her life was brutally cut short. In late September 1988, a horrific crime rocked the city of Chattanooga.
Harold Wayne “Red” Nichols, a 27-year-old husband and father, broke into Karen’s apartment and violently attacked her. He sexually assaulted and murdered the young woman in her own home, ending her life in an unimaginably cruel way. The murder sent shockwaves through the community. Karen had just finished Bible college and was studying to become a paralegal. She was gentle, sweet, and innocent. According to her sister, Lizette, the night she was killed—as Lizette later said—their family was “destroyed by evil.”
Investigators soon linked Nichols to Karen’s death and to a string of other recent assaults. Nichols would eventually confess not only to killing Karen Pulley, but to raping multiple other women around Chattanooga in the 1980s. These were deliberate, predatory attacks. The victims, and there were many, were carefully stalked and attacked by Nichols. His spree of violence earned him a chilling moniker in local media, the “Red-Headed Stranger,” for the way the red-haired Nichols preyed on women he didn’t know. The community lived in fear until he was finally caught.
Arrest, Trial, and a Mother’s Grace
After Karen’s murder, police pursued leads connecting the crime to other assaults. Nichols was arrested in early January 1989, only a few months after the murder. Confronted with the evidence, he quickly confessed to killing Karen Pulley and admitted responsibility for several other rapes and attempted rapes in the area. By February 1989, a grand jury had indicted Nichols for first-degree murder, aggravated rape, and other charges related to his crime spree.
Mental health evaluations found him competent to stand trial by mid-1989. The stage was set for a court case that would determine Nichols’ fate and provide the first measure of justice for Karen Pulley’s grieving family.
Harold Wayne Nichols’ murder trial began in Hamilton County, Tennessee, in May 1990. When the judge ruled that his videotaped confession would be allowed as evidence, Nichols made a dramatic about-face. He unexpectedly pleaded guilty to first-degree murder, aggravated rape, and burglary in Karen Pulley’s case. There was no doubt about his guilt, only whether he would live or die.
During sentencing, the defense highlighted Nichols’ cooperation and remorse. His wife, Joan, testified on his behalf, and Nichols himself spoke, tearfully expressing deep regret. In an extraordinary moment, Karen’s mother, Ann, asked to meet with Nichols face-to-face. She prayed with him and handed him a Bible—a moment of grace that would profoundly impact Nichols in the years to follow.
The prosecution emphasized the brutality of Karen’s murder and Nichols’ pattern of sexual violence against multiple women. At the time, Tennessee law didn’t allow life without parole—only life with parole eligibility or death. Prosecutors argued that only a death sentence could guarantee he’d never walk free. After less than two hours of deliberation, the jury returned with a unanimous verdict: death. On May 12th, 1990, the judge formally sentenced Nichols to death by electrocution.
Decades on Death Row and Legal Battles
A death sentence, especially in 1990s Tennessee, did not mean an immediate end. In fact, Harold Nichols’ case was only beginning a long journey through the appeals process. The early 1990s saw a flurry of legal motions from Nichols’ attorneys. They immediately sought a new trial and filed direct appeals, but these efforts failed. Three separate motions to retry the case were denied in 1990 alone.
In 1994, the Tennessee Supreme Court reviewed Nichols’ conviction and upheld the death sentence, rejecting all claims of trial error. The following January 1995, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear Nichols’ case, effectively ending his direct appeals. Nichols’ fate as a death row prisoner was sealed, at least for the time being.
Still, Nichols did not give up. Through the late 1990s and 2000s, he pursued every legal avenue available. He filed petitions in state court claiming he deserved a retrial or a new sentencing hearing. All were turned aside by the late 1990s.
In 2003, Nichols turned to the federal courts with a habeas corpus petition, asserting that his constitutional rights had been violated. His attorneys argued that his trial counsel had been ineffective and raised concerns about his mental health, pointing to a traumatic, abusive childhood that they said left Nichols with severe psychological problems. A psychiatrist diagnosed him with intermittent explosive disorder and other issues, reinforcing that argument. At one point, Nichols even tried to cast doubt on his guilt despite his prior confession. But in 2005, new DNA testing conclusively matched Nichols’ DNA to evidence from Karen Pulley’s body, removing any lingering uncertainty about his culpability. After that, Nichols dropped any claim of innocence in Karen’s murder and focused his appeals on other grounds.
A Claimed Transformation
Years turned into decades. Nichols remained on death row at Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Nashville, the prison that houses Tennessee’s condemned inmates. Inside those prison walls, something noteworthy was happening: Nichols was changing.
The same man who once admitted he would have continued attacking women if he hadn’t been caught now began to reflect deeply on his actions. By all accounts, Nichols experienced a religious and personal transformation during his decades in prison. He often cited that encounter with Karen’s mother in 1990—praying together and receiving her Bible—as a turning point. According to his attorney, he turned his life over to God after speaking with Ann Pulley, dedicating himself to faith and remorse from that day on.
In letters and statements over the years, Nichols repeatedly apologized for the pain he caused, expressing what those who knew him believed was genuine remorse. This change did not go unnoticed. By the 2010s, some surprising voices were advocating for mercy in Nichols’ case. In 2015, changes in the law allowed Nichols to reopen aspects of his case, and the local district attorney, Neal Pinkston, who by then led prosecutions in Hamilton County, actually agreed with Nichols’ lawyers that his death sentence should be changed to life in prison.
In 2018, prosecutors and the defense struck a deal to re-sentence Nichols to life without parole, citing the unusual circumstances. Nichols had spent nearly 30 years on death row with exemplary behavior, and legal technicalities—including juror confusion back in 1990—cast a shadow on the original sentence. However, in a stunning twist, a senior judge rejected the deal at a court hearing, refusing to remove Nichols from death row. Nichols was sent back to his cell, his hopes for a reprieve dashed because one judge decided the agreed-upon life sentence was not acceptable.
COVID-19 Delays and Protocol Changes
The years continued to slip by. By 2020, Harold Wayne Nichols had been on death row for three decades, making him one of Tennessee’s longest-serving condemned inmates. His regular appeals had been exhausted, and the U.S. Supreme Court denied one final petition in early 2020, clearing the way for an execution date to be set.
Tennessee officials scheduled Nichols to die on August 4th, 2020. Nichols, now in his 60s, had a choice under state law because of the year of his conviction. Inmates convicted of capital crimes before 1999 are allowed to choose electrocution instead of lethal injection. In 2020, Nichols actually opted for the electric chair, perhaps believing it a quicker or more certain fate. The state prepared to carry out its first execution of Nichols, and Nichols’ family and Karen Pulley’s family braced themselves for the end.
But fate intervened. The summer of 2020 was deep in the COVID-19 pandemic. And as the execution date neared, it became clear that carrying it out would pose risks and complications. Just weeks before the scheduled execution, Governor Bill Lee issued a reprieve—a temporary stay—citing the challenges and disruptions caused by the pandemic. Harold Nichols’ life was spared, at least temporarily, by a global health crisis that no one could have foreseen. The August 2020 execution date came and went with Nichols still alive in his cell.
Nichols’ reprieve stretched on as Tennessee, like many states, paused executions during COVID. In the interim, another issue came to the forefront: the method of execution itself. Tennessee’s lethal injection protocol had come under heavy scrutiny. After some problematic executions in other states, Tennessee’s governor ordered a review of the state’s procedures in 2021 to 2022. By April 2022, Tennessee had halted all executions to investigate failures in its lethal injection system, including testing problems with the drugs. Nichols, who had been rescheduled to die in June 2022, received another last-minute stay from Governor Lee as the state admitted it needed to fix its execution process.
It was 37 years of hell for Karen Pulley’s sister, Lizette, waiting and wondering if Nichols’ execution would ever truly happen.
The Final Push for Clemency
In late 2024, Tennessee announced a new single-drug execution protocol using pentobarbital, a powerful barbiturate, as the sole lethal agent. With a revised procedure in place, the Tennessee Supreme Court moved to restart executions. In March 2025, the court set a new execution date for Harold Wayne Nichols: December 11th, 2025. Nichols was now 64 years old.
When asked in the fall of 2025 to choose his method of execution, electrocution or injection, this time Nichols declined to choose, citing a lack of information about the new drug protocol. By not choosing, he defaulted to lethal injection under state law.
As the execution date approached, Nichols’ attorneys made frantic last efforts to save his life. They sued the state for public records about the new lethal injection drugs, arguing that Nichols had a right to know how the state planned to kill him. A judge granted them access to some records just days before the execution, but Tennessee authorities did not delay the date while these issues were being contested.
In a final plea, Nichols’ legal team and supporters petitioned Governor Bill Lee for clemency, asking that Nichols’ sentence be commuted to life without parole. By now, Nichols had spent 35 years behind bars with a spotless record, had long ago taken responsibility for his crimes, and had shown profound remorse. Remarkably, multiple jurors from his 1990 trial came forward to support clemency as well. Some of those jurors revealed that back then they would have preferred to sentence Nichols to life without parole. But since that option wasn’t available, they voted for death, assuming it effectively meant life in prison.
On the other side stood the victim’s family, steadfast in their desire to see the sentence carried out. Lizette Monroe, Karen’s sister, empathized with those who believed in forgiveness. But she felt that Nichols had already been given 35 extra years that her sister never got.
“He has had 37 years,” Lizette said in early December 2025. “He just needs to die. This needs to be put to rest so that we can move forward as a family.”
Her view was shaped by decades of pain and the belief that Nichols’ redemption did not erase his actions. Lizette clarified that when her mother met Nichols and gave him a Bible years ago, it was not a plea for his life. It was an act of personal faith, not a statement against the death penalty. In the Monroe family’s eyes, justice delayed for 37 years was justice denied, and they were ready for closure.
As December 11th, 2025, dawned, Governor Bill Lee announced he would not intervene. He denied Nichols’ clemency petition and let the execution move forward. All court appeals had been exhausted or dismissed. The long path of legal maneuvering had reached its end. Harold Wayne Nichols was out of options.
The Final Hours and Last Meal
In the early hours of December 11th, 2025, Harold Nichols awoke on death watch, the special 72-hour period before execution when the prisoner is under 24/7 observation. He was moved to a cell adjacent to the execution chamber at Riverbend Prison in Nashville.
Prison officials noted that Nichols spent part of his final night praying and writing letters to loved ones, as many inmates do in their last hours. He had already made his final arrangements and selected his last meal, a small comfort allowed to condemned prisoners.
Nichols’ requested last meal was a traditional Southern-style feast:
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Beef brisket
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Coleslaw
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A baked potato
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Onion rings
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Deviled eggs
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Cheese biscuits
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A fruit tea to drink
He ate his last meal quietly on the evening of December 10th, expressing gratitude to the guards. By all accounts, Nichols remained calm and resigned as the execution hour approached.
That morning, the area outside Riverbend Prison saw two very different gatherings. A small group of anti-death penalty protesters stood outside in the cold, holding candles and signs pleading for mercy. Among them were faith-based volunteers who had known Nichols in prison. One protester said he believed Nichols had changed and should be allowed to continue his ministry behind bars rather than be put to death. They prayed for a last-minute miracle that would spare his life.
At the same time, family members of Karen Pulley arrived at the prison to witness the execution that they had awaited for so long. Lizette Monroe had planned to attend, but at the last moment, the emotions overwhelmed her. She decided she could not bear to watch Nichols die. Instead, her husband, Jeff Monroe, and another relative took her place in the witness room, determined to represent Karen and the family’s interests. Nichols’ own sister, Deborah, was also present as a witness, sitting quietly in support of her brother during his final moments.
The Execution
Shortly before 10:00 a.m. Central Time, Harold Nichols was led into the execution chamber. He was helped onto the gurney, a hospital-style bed, and strapped down with wide leather belts securing his arms, legs, and torso. From an adjoining room hidden from view, the execution team inserted intravenous lines that snaked through a hole in the wall connecting to Nichols’ left arm. The single lethal drug, pentobarbital, a powerful sedative, would be administered remotely by the executioner at the warden’s signal. Nichols had declined a sedative beforehand, relying instead on his faith to steady him.
In the chamber with Nichols was his chosen spiritual adviser, a man named J.R. Davis, who had been visiting Nichols for a decade as part of a prison ministry group. As witnesses filed into their viewing areas, separated by glass from the chamber, Nichols craned his head to see them. He made brief eye contact with his sister, Deborah, and offered a faint smile of reassurance before laying his head back down.
When the warden asked if Nichols had any last words, Nichols said yes. He was given permission to speak, and he lifted his head slightly, his voice steady.
“To everyone I’ve harmed, I’m sorry,” Harold Nichols said firmly. “To my family, know that I love you.”
His eyes glistened with tears as he spoke to his relatives on the other side of the glass. “I know where I’m going. I’m ready to go home.”
It was a brief final statement, a combination of apology, love, and an expression of spiritual peace. Nichols seemed to make eye contact with each witness as he delivered his apology. Some observers, including hardened reporters, later admitted the sincerity in his voice was palpable.
After Nichols finished his final words, the warden gave a nod. The lethal injection began at around 10:30 a.m. Inside the chamber, Reverend J.R. Davis placed a hand on Nichols’ shoulder and began to pray softly. Together, the condemned man and his spiritual adviser recited the 23rd Psalm from the Bible.
“The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” Their voices could be heard through a microphone in the witness rooms, steady at first, but cracking with emotion as they continued. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” At one point, both men were in tears, their voices strained, yet they kept reciting the Lord’s Prayer immediately afterward. “Our Father, who art in heaven.”
By the final amen, Nichols’ eyes were closed. Reverend Davis gently wiped his own eyes and leaned close to whisper to Nichols. “Go in peace, my friend. I love you,” the minister said softly.
Observers saw Nichols’ body react as the lethal drug hit his system. He took one sudden deep breath, a sort of gasp that caused his back to arch slightly against the restraints. A nurse nearby touched his shoulder as if to comfort him. Nichols then exhaled and began a series of shorter, rapid breaths which witnesses later described as sounding like light snoring or snorting noises. His face turned red for a moment, and a single tear was visible on his cheek.
Within a minute or two, those breaths slowed and became shallow. Nichols’ chest ceased moving. The color drained from his face, which took on a purple hue briefly before settling into a waxen pallor. The minister continued to pray quietly, and Nichols lay completely still.
At 10:39 a.m. Central Time, the prison doctor checked for a pulse. Finding none, he pronounced Harold Wayne Nichols dead. After 35 years, 6 months, and 29 days on Tennessee’s death row, the sentence was carried out. Nichols was 64 years old. The curtains to the witness rooms were drawn closed, and an official announcement was made. The execution of inmate number 146203, Harold W. Nichols, had been completed in accordance with state law.
Aftermath and Family’s Statement
“We have waited for 37 years with a hope that justice would be delivered,” the family statement began. “Taking a life is serious and we take no pleasure in it. However, the victims, and there were many, were carefully stalked and attacked. The crimes, and there were many, were deliberate, violent, and horrific.”
The Monroes went on to describe how Harold Nichols had hunted his victims and shattered numerous lives.
“Our family was destroyed by evil that night in September 1988,” Jeff read, his voice wavering. The statement recounted what had been done to Karen. Though Jeff spared the most graphic details in public, he alluded that even a Vietnam veteran EMT at the crime scene said he’d never seen anything like it. Nothing, the family emphasized, could ever truly atone for the loss of Karen’s life or erase the trauma inflicted on so many.
The execution of Harold Wayne Nichols marked the third and final execution in Tennessee in 2025, a year in which the state resumed executions after a long pause. It also brought an end to one of the longest-running death row cases in the state’s modern history. Across the United States in 2025, a total of 46 people were executed, Nichols among them. His case became a talking point in the ongoing debate over capital punishment.
