JUST IN: Triple Murderer Oscar Franklin Smith Executed In Tennessee

JUST IN: Triple Murderer Oscar Franklin Smith Executed In Tennessee | For Killing Wife and Two Sons

On May 22nd, 2025, Oscar Franklin Smith was executed by lethal injection at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution, just outside Nashville, Tennessee. He was 75 years old. He had been on death row for over 35 years. In his final moments, strapped to a gurney in a yellow prison uniform, he looked up and said just a few words—words that have stayed with people ever since.

In this video, we are going to go through everything: his crime, his victims, his arrest, his trial, the controversies that nearly stopped his execution not once, but multiple times, his last meal, and his final words. Stay with me, because this one is not simple and it is not clean. It is one of the most debated capital punishment cases in Tennessee history.

The Crime

It was October 1st, 1989, in Nashville, Tennessee. Shortly before midnight, a 911 operator received a call from a home in the Woodbine neighborhood. The line connected, and what the dispatcher heard was chaos: screaming, male voices, a partial address, and then silence. The line went dead. Officers were dispatched to the location. They arrived, walked the perimeter, and saw nothing obviously out of place—no broken windows, no signs of forced entry from the outside, nothing that raised an immediate alarm. So, they left. That decision would haunt the investigation.

The following afternoon, October 2nd, a 13-year-old neighbor walked through the home’s unlocked back door. What he found inside was something no child should ever see: three bodies, blood everywhere. Judy Smith, 35 years old, a Waffle House waitress and mother of two, was found lying in the bed in the front bedroom. Her younger son, Jason Burnett, 13 years old, was on the floor beside her. Her older son, Chad Burnett, 16 years old, was in the kitchen. All three were dead.

Retired Hendersonville Police Chief Mickey Miller, who at the time was a Metro Nashville Police Captain leading the Personal Crimes Investigation Unit, would later describe the scene like this: “It probably was one of the bloodiest crime scenes we’ve had. Just the savagery of killing two teenage boys and their mother using a gun, a knife, and an awl. It was a horrific crime scene.” A 35-year-old woman, a 16-year-old boy, and a 13-year-old child—gone.

The Victims

Before we go any further, let’s talk about who these three people were, because they deserve more than a footnote. Judy Smith was a hard-working woman. She waitressed at a Waffle House in East Nashville, the same restaurant where she had first met Oscar Smith years earlier. She was a mother. She had fought to protect herself and her sons from a deteriorating and dangerous marriage. At the time of her death, she had already taken legal steps to get out; she was in the middle of a divorce. She had filed assault warrants. She was trying to leave.

Chad Burnett was 16, by all accounts, a normal teenage boy. His aunt would later say that the family never got to plan Chad’s driving lessons; they never got to see what he would become. Jason Burnett was 13, just a kid. His aunt, Terry Osborne, would stand before cameras after the execution decades later and say that she still hears him in her memory—his laughter, what she described as “pure joy.” Three lives wiped out in a single night.

The Investigation

The weapons used were a .22 caliber revolver, a knife, and an awl—a leatherworking tool with a sharp, pointed end, similar to an ice pick. The gun and knife were never recovered; the awl was found at the scene. The medical examiner’s findings were grim: Judy had been shot in the neck and stabbed multiple times. Chad had been shot in the left eye, the upper chest, and the left torso. Jason had been stabbed in the neck and abdomen. This was not a quick or impulsive attack; this was prolonged, brutal, and personal.

It didn’t take investigators long to identify a prime suspect: Oscar Franklin Smith, Judy’s estranged husband. He and Judy had met when she was working as a waitress. They married in 1985 and had twin boys together, but from early on, or at least by the time things fell apart, the relationship had become violent and threatening. By June 1989, Judy had separated from Oscar. She had initiated divorce proceedings and was fighting for custody of their toddler twins.

At the time of the murders, there were two active aggravated assault warrants out against Oscar Smith: one for assaulting Judy and one for assaulting Jason. And that was just the tip of it. Testimony from multiple coworkers at his job described a man who had made chilling statements repeatedly and openly. Between June and August of 1989 alone, coworkers said he had threatened to kill Judy at least 12 times.

One coworker testified that Oscar had said he wanted to kill Chad and Jason, too, because he felt Judy loved those boys more than their shared twins. Another testified that Oscar had offered $20,000 to have Judy and her two sons killed. A separate coworker recalled that as far back as 1988, Oscar had proposed a deal: he would kill that coworker’s wife if that person killed Judy in return.

The violence wasn’t just words. The same month Oscar and Judy separated, he had physically fought with Jason, biting the 13-year-old on the back and pressing a gun to the teenager’s head. In August 1989, just two months before the murders, according to court records, Oscar tied Judy up, sexually assaulted her, and held a knife to her throat while threatening to kill her.

The Case Against Oscar Smith

Investigators didn’t need to go far. Captain Miller later said of the moment he sat across from Oscar Smith in interrogation: “He was one guy that, when you’re talking to him, his blood pressure wasn’t getting elevated. He was just as calm. You looked into his eyes and there was just nothing there. One of the few that I’ve seen like that.”

The prosecution’s case was built on several key pieces of evidence—none of them a “smoking gun,” but together forming what they argued was an unmistakable picture:

The 911 call: The call placed from the home on the night of October 1st. When police and prosecutors reviewed the recording, they believed they could hear a young male voice screaming a name: “Frank? No… Frank!”—Oscar Smith’s middle name, the name he went by. Smith’s defense attorneys, which notably included Karl Dean (who later became the mayor of Nashville), argued the recording was too distorted to be understood, but prosecutors had the audio technically enhanced and played it for the jury.
The bloody palm print: Found on a bedsheet next to Judy’s body, investigators discovered a handprint—not just any handprint, but one missing two fingers: the same two fingers Oscar Smith was missing on his left hand. A fingerprint examiner testified at trial that the print matched Smith’s. The prosecution called it the most important piece of evidence presented to the jury.
The life insurance policies: Prior to the murders, Oscar Smith had taken out life insurance policies on all three victims: Judy, Chad, and Jason.
Testimony: Multiple witnesses, coworkers, and Judy’s own father said Oscar had told them directly, “I’ll kill her if she leaves me.” Phone records showed Oscar had called Judy’s Waffle House repeatedly in the summer of 1989, making threats that coworkers overheard.

Years of Legal Battles

At his sentencing, a clinical psychologist who had evaluated him offered a diagnosis: paranoid personality disorder, chronic depressive neurosis, and a paranoid delusional disorder. The defense also noted that Smith’s father had been a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic. However, a separate psychologist, the one who assessed whether Smith was competent to stand trial, concluded that he showed no signs of mental illness. Two psychologists, two very different pictures. Oscar maintained throughout every single one of these proceedings that he did not commit the murders.

This is where the case becomes complicated and where the questions start to pile up. For 35 years, his legal team fought, raising issues that, depending on where you stand, are either the last-ditch efforts of a guilty man or genuine cracks in a flawed conviction:

The Fingerprint Problem: The bloody palm print—the one the prosecution called their most important piece of evidence—was later questioned. Years later, Smith’s legal team hired a fingerprint expert who reviewed the evidence and concluded the match was unreliable, citing multiple errors by the original examiner. Even more embarrassing, the investigator’s own fingerprint was found on the awl, the murder weapon. Smith’s attorneys called it a demonstration of incompetence and lack of professionalism. Although courts denied relief, the fingerprint evidence that helped send Oscar Smith to death row has since been labeled by defense experts as “junk science.”
The DNA Evidence: In 2022, things escalated. Years later, new “touch DNA” testing was conducted on the awl found at the crime scene. The DNA on the handle did not belong to Oscar Smith, nor to any of the three victims; it belonged to an unknown individual. Smith’s attorneys argued this pointed to another possible assailant. But despite the discovery, courts ruled that the overall evidence against Smith remained overwhelming, and appeals were denied at every level.
The Jury Problem: After Smith’s conviction, two jurors later said they never intended for him to be executed. They believed that without a death sentence, Smith could be released after just 13 years—a misunderstanding openly discussed during deliberations. At the time, Tennessee did not yet offer life without parole as a sentencing option. Both jurors later stated they would not have voted for death had they understood the alternative. Courts rejected claims of misconduct, but the issue remains a lingering controversy in the case.

The Reprieve

On April 21st, 2022, Oscar Smith was hours away from execution. His appeals had been denied. Governor Bill Lee had said he would not intervene. And then, minutes before it was to happen, the execution was stopped. Governor Lee issued an emergency reprieve. His statement: “Due to an oversight in preparation for lethal injection, the scheduled execution of Oscar Smith will not move forward tonight.”

The country watched. Smith’s supporters celebrated; his opponents were furious. But here’s what the reprieve was actually about, and it had nothing to do with innocence: Oscar Smith’s 2022 execution was halted after it was discovered the lethal injection drugs had not been fully tested under Tennessee’s own protocol, including for dangerous bacterial toxins known as endotoxins. A later independent review ordered by Governor Bill Lee found the state had failed to follow execution protocols in seven executions and while preparing for an eighth.

Tennessee later adopted a new single-drug protocol using pentobarbital. But Smith’s attorneys argued the revised guidelines removed critical safeguards and lacked clear testing requirements. A lawsuit challenging the new protocol was still ongoing when Smith received a new execution date.

The Final Days

In March 2025, a new death warrant was signed. Oscar Franklin Smith would be executed on May 22nd, 2025. He was given the option under Tennessee law to choose his method of execution: lethal injection or the electric chair. Smith declined to choose. Under Tennessee’s rules, that meant the default method would apply: lethal injection.

On May 20th, 2025, Governor Lee made his final decision public: “After deliberation of consideration of Oscar Franklin Smith’s request for clemency and after a thorough review of the case, I am upholding the sentence of the state of Tennessee and do not plan to intervene.”

Outside the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution, in a field adjacent to the prison, approximately 50 people gathered to protest and hold a vigil. On the other side of a security checkpoint in a separate field, two people showed up in support of the execution. In a final interview with the Associated Press before his death, Smith said, “Why anyone wants to see anyone being killed, I don’t understand it. We’re supposed to be a civilized country.”

Oscar Franklin Smith’s final meal request was simple: hot dogs, tater tots, and apple pie with vanilla ice cream. No elaborate spread, no final indulgence—just the kind of meal that feels ordinary, familiar, human. He ate it, and he waited.

The Execution

May 22nd, 2025, 10:10 a.m.—the scheduled start time. Oscar Franklin Smith, 75 years old, wearing a yellow prison uniform, was brought into the execution chamber at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Nashville, Tennessee. He was secured to a gurney. Media witnesses were present. The single drug, pentobarbital, was administered. It was the first time Tennessee had used this single-drug protocol.

Witnesses described watching his face change. His skin took on a bluish-purple tone. He did not visibly convulse. He did not appear to struggle outwardly. But here’s something his attorney, Amy Harwell, pointed out afterward: because Oscar Smith held deep religious beliefs that prohibited an autopsy, no postmortem examination was performed. That means there was no way to confirm whether he experienced pulmonary edema—a condition documented in studies of pentobarbital executions where fluid fills the lungs, causing what some researchers describe as the sensation of drowning from the inside. We will never know what Oscar Smith felt in those final minutes. That is, according to his legal team, by design.

At 10:47 a.m., Oscar Franklin Smith was pronounced dead.

Before the drugs were administered, Oscar Smith was given the opportunity to make a final statement. He took it. He spoke for approximately 3 minutes. He did not ask for forgiveness. He did not express remorse. He did not say goodbye to loved ones in the room. He looked up and said calmly, deliberately, words that those who witnessed them have not forgotten: “Our justice system is broken. He has the power to stop this.” He said that too many innocent people are being killed by a system that does not work.

And then, toward the end, as the drugs were beginning to take hold, he looked up one more time and said, “Someone needs to tell the governor the justice system doesn’t work.” And then, one final time, he repeated the words he had been saying for 35 years: “I didn’t kill her.” Those were the last words of Oscar Franklin Smith. He closed his eyes, and he was gone.

The Legacy

After the execution, Judy’s siblings, Terry Osborne and Mike Roberts, stood before cameras outside the prison. Terry spoke for the family: “The pain of losing Judy, Chad, and Jason is something that we will continue to carry. Not a moment goes by that we don’t miss them.” She spoke about domestic violence, about how hard it is to leave, about how Judy had tried to leave, and how that decision, tragically, may have accelerated the danger she was already in. “We know it is an incredibly hard thing to do to leave a spouse who is abusing, but pray that this case becomes a call to action, encouraging those in danger to seek help before it’s too late.”

For the family, after 35 years of waiting—35 years of court dates and appeals and last-minute reprieves—this was not a celebration. It was a closing of a wound that had never fully healed. They carried Judy, they carried Chad, and they carried Jason into that field outside that prison on that Thursday morning, and they carried them home.

This execution did not happen in a vacuum. It was Tennessee’s first execution since 2020, the first using the new single-drug pentobarbital protocol, and it reignited a national conversation that has never really gone away. Oscar Franklin Smith was born on March 25th, 1950. He died on May 22nd, 2025. He spent 35 years on death row—longer than Chad Burnett had been alive when he died.

Whether he was the monster the prosecution described, whether he was an innocent man executed by a broken system (as he claimed until the very end), or whether the truth lies somewhere in between, courts reviewed those questions for decades, and in the end, the state of Tennessee made its decision. Three people are undeniably dead: Judy, Chad, and Jason. Their family carried that loss for 35 years, and they will carry it for the rest of their lives.

I’ll leave you with this question, and I want you to sit with it honestly: When the most important piece of evidence in a death penalty case is later called into question, and the DNA on the murder weapon belongs to someone unknown, at what point does “beyond a reasonable doubt” become something we need to examine more carefully?