March 2026 was marked by a series of executions across the United States. Some inmates showed no remorse. Others spent their final moments pouring out apologies to the families they had devastated. And one final statement in particular left more questions than answers. Here are all the executions carried out in March 2026 along with their crimes, their trials, their controversies, their final meals, and their last words.

 This is not a celebration of death. This is a record of it. We begin on March 17th, 2026, a Tuesday, St. Patrick’s Day, the middle of the Lenten season in the Catholic calendar, and the day Florida executed a man for one of the most haunting crimes in the state’s modern history. A crime where the victim called for help and no one came.

 Michael Lee King, Florida, executed March 17th, 2026. The seventh execution in the United States in 2026. Michael Lee King was 54 years old when he was strapped to the gurney at Florida State Prison near Stark. And the woman he murdered, Denise Amberlee, was only 21 years old when he took her life 18 years earlier.

 Before we talk about his last words, you need to understand what he did because without understanding the crime, you cannot understand the weight of what happened in that execution chamber. January 17th, 2008. North Port, Florida. A quiet neighborhood in Sarasota County. Denise Amberlee was 21 years old. She was a young wife and mother.

 Her husband, Nathan, was at work. She was at home with their two young sons, a 2-year-old and a 6-month-old infant. At 11:21 that morning, she and Nathan had spoken on the phone. They talked about the nice weather. They agreed to leave the windows open. That was the last time they ever spoke. Michael King was unemployed.

 He was facing foreclosure on his home. Sometime that afternoon, he drove through Denise’s neighborhood, spotted her outside with her children, and made a decision that would define the rest of his life and end hers. He abducted her in broad daylight and drove away, leaving her two babies alone in their cribs. He took her to his home.

 He bound her. He sexually assaulted her. Then he drove to his cousin Harold Muxlow’s house and borrowed a shovel, a flashlight, and a gas can. He wasn’t planning to let her go. He never was. But here is the part of this story that stays with you. While she was bound in the backseat of his 1994 green Chevrolet Camaro, tied up, terrified, fully aware of what was happening to her, Denise somehow managed to get hold of King’s cell phone, and she dialed 911.

 Her call lasted several minutes. She said the word “please” 17 times. She gave the dispatcher her full name. She answered questions while pretending she was speaking to King so he wouldn’t realize she was on the phone. She begged to see her husband. She begged to see her children. She told the dispatcher everything she could.

 And here is the unbearable truth of this case. Five separate 911 calls were made that afternoon by five different people, including Denise herself, her husband Nathan when he came home and found the children alone, and multiple witnesses who had seen parts of the abduction unfolding in real time. Five calls. Five people trying to save her life.

 But catastrophic communication failures between dispatchers meant the information was never properly passed on. No help reached Denise in time. King drove her to a remote area of North Port, shot her in the face, and buried her body in a shallow grave. A state trooper pulled King over shortly afterward.

 His car matched the description given by a 911 caller. Denise’s body was found two days later on January 19th, 2008. She left behind a 2-year-old and a 6-month-old. She left behind a husband who spent the next 18 years fighting not just for justice, but for a change in the system that failed his wife.

 She had never taken off the $40 heart-shaped ring Nathan bought her on their first date. That ring became evidence in the case against King. King was arrested shortly after the crime. DNA evidence, Denise’s hair, and her personal belongings, all recovered from King’s home and his vehicle, built an overwhelming case against him.

 The trial began August 24th, 2009 in Sarasota County. The 911 recording of Denise’s final desperate call was played in open court. Judge Dino Economou, who presided over the trial, later said it was among the rarest things he had ever witnessed in a courtroom. The last words of a murder victim captured live in real time.

 King was convicted of first-degree murder, sexual battery, and kidnapping. He was sentenced to death. The murder also changed Florida law. In 2009, the Florida Legislature unanimously passed the Denise Amberlee Act requiring improved and standardized training for 911 call takers across the state. Her name lives on in that legislation. Nathan Lee went on to create the Denise Amberlee Foundation, which has spent nearly two decades pushing for better emergency response systems across the entire United States.

 That is the legacy Denise left even in death. King’s execution was not without dispute. His defense raised two main arguments before his March 17th, 2026 execution. First, they said a serious childhood brain injury damaged his frontal lobe affecting impulse control and decision-making and that the jury was not fully informed about this.

 Second, they challenged Florida’s execution process citing issues like expired or inadequate drugs and lack of transparency about what would be used arguing it could cause hidden suffering due to paralytic drugs. Despite these claims, both the Florida Supreme Court and US Supreme Court denied his final appeals.

 And a small group of protesters gathered outside the prison on the night of his execution. On the evening of March 17th, 2026, the curtain to the execution chamber at Florida State Prison rose exactly at 6:00 p.m., the scheduled execution time. A Catholic clergy member stood at the foot of the gurney beside King. He had described himself as a devout Catholic in his years on death row.

 King gave his final statement almost immediately after the curtain rose. It was nearly inaudible to the witnesses in the chamber. Its full text was later relayed to the Associated Press by Governor Ron DeSantis’s office. Before his execution, Michael Lee King requested a final meal of pizza, ice cream, soda, and tater tots.

 In his last words, he did not apologize. He did not address the crime. He did not speak Denise’s name with remorse. He did not acknowledge the children she left behind or the husband who spent 18 years trying to make something good come from something evil. What he said was this, “Since finding Jesus in prison, I have tried to live as his disciple obeying the two great commandments, to love God with all my heart, my mind, and all my being, and to love my neighbor, to include everyone, my family, Denise Lee’s family, everyone in the gallery,

the Catholic volunteers who visit the prison, and those on the team to end my life. Matthew chapter 22, verses 37 to 40. If you want true peace, ask Jesus into your heart.” As the drugs began flowing, King breathed heavily. His arms shook. His body twitched. Then all movement ceased. The warden shook King and called his name. There was no response.

 He was pronounced dead at 6:13 p.m., 13 minutes after the curtain rose. After the execution, Nathan Lee, Denise’s husband, spoke to reporters outside the prison. All of Denise’s family present that evening were wearing pink, her favorite color. Nathan said, “Finally, it’s over. This chapter is closed.

 It took a lot people to make this day happen, and everything had to go perfectly.” And then he said something that tells you everything about who he is. “I’m super blessed that I got to know Denise, let alone marry her and have two amazing kids with her. I’m glad this day is done, and now we can focus on what we’ve been focusing on for the past 18 years, and that’s moving forward and bringing positive change.

” From Florida to Texas now. From a crime that became law to a crime that became one of the most emotionally charged executions of 2026. Because the man we’re about to discuss, he did something in his final moments that not many condemned men do. He looked his surviving victim directly in the eye. Cedric Allen Ricks, Texas, executed March 11th, 2026.

The sixth execution in the United States in 2026. Cedric Allen Ricks was 51 years old when he was executed at the Huntsville Unit in Texas, the facility they call the Walls. He had been on death row for 13 years. The crime he committed in 2013 was witnessed by a 12-year-old boy who survived it only by pretending to be dead.

 That boy, now 25 years old, was standing just steps away from the gurney when Ricks received the lethal injection. The scars on the back of his neck were still visible above his shirt collar. May 1st, 2013, Bedford, Texas. A suburb in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Cedric Ricks, then 38 years old, was in a heated argument with his common-law wife, Roxanne Sanchez, 30, at her apartment at 1400 Park Place Avenue.

 This was not the first time violence had entered their relationship. The day before this attack, Ricks had been in court on an existing assault charge involving Sanchez. When the argument inside the apartment turned violent, Roxanne’s two sons from a previous relationship tried to protect their mother. Marcus Figueroa was 12 years old.

 His younger brother, Anthony Figueroa, was eight. Ricks grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter. He began stabbing Roxanne. He then turned the knife on the boys. Anthony Figueroa, eight years old, was stabbed fatally. Marcus Figueroa, 12 years old, was stabbed 25 times, but Marcus was still alive. And in one of the most extraordinary and heartbreaking acts of survival you will ever hear about, he made a decision that saved his life.

 He mimicked the sound his dying brother was making, a gurgling noise. And when Ricks heard that sound, he stopped. He believed both boys were dead. He left the apartment. Marcus got up. He called for help. Ricks did not harm his own 9-month-old son, Isaiah, who was also in the apartment. He placed the baby in a crib before he fled the scene in Roxanne’s car.

 He then called his own family members and confessed to the killings. Police traced the cell phone signal. They arrested Ricks in Garvin County, Oklahoma, and extradited him back to Texas. The Tarrant County Medical Examiner recorded Roxanne Sanchez’s cause of death as stab wounds to the neck, blunt force trauma to the head, and asphyxia.

 She was 30 years old. Anthony Figueroa was eight years old. Ricks was tried in Tarrant County in 2014. At trial, he took the stand and said he had been defending himself, that the boys had come at him when he and Roxanne argued. He acknowledged he had anger issues. He said, “I wish I could bring them back right now.

 I don’t want everybody to look at me like I’m a monster.” The jury rejected his self-defense claim in fewer than 1 hour. They deliberated for 7 hours on the question of punishment. On May 16th, 2014, they sentenced Cedric Allen Ricks to death. Ricks’s legal team filed multiple appeals, focusing on alleged racial discrimination in jury selection.

Evidence later revealed the prosecutor had noted jurors’ races and struck the only two black women, which his attorneys argued violated Batson versus Kentucky. However, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals dismissed the claim on procedural grounds, and the US Supreme Court declined to intervene. His request for clemency or a delay was also denied by the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles.

 In the four days before his execution, prison staff at the Polunsky Unit reported that Ricks spent his time sleeping, writing letters, reading, pacing, watching television from his cell door, and listening to music. He declined to speak with his attorney by phone. On the evening of March 11th, 2026, he was brought to the Huntsville Unit, the Walls, the place where Texas carries out all its executions.

 Seven relatives of his victims watched from behind the glass. Among them was Marcus Figueroa, now 25 years old, standing at the front of the viewing room, just steps from the gurney, the scars visible on the back of his neck. He showed no visible emotion. Texas abolished special last meal requests in 2011 following a high-profile incident where a condemned inmate ordered an enormous meal and then refused to eat it.

 Since then, Texas death row inmates receive whatever is on the standard prison menu that day. On March 11th, 2026, that menu consisted of fried chicken, country gravy, black beans, green beans, corn, yellow cake with chocolate frosting, a cheeseburger, oven-fried potatoes, ketchup, sliced bread, tea, and water.

 No one reported whether Ricks ate. He had no personal witnesses present at the execution. He had no spiritual advisor beside him. No one was there for him on his side of the glass. The Texas Department of Criminal Justice officially records and publishes the final statements of all executed inmates.

 What Ricks said on the gurney that evening is not a paraphrase. This is the official record, word for word. “Yes, first I want to say I’m sorry for taking Roxanne and Anthony away from y’all. I can’t imagine the pain it has caused you. I’m glad I am able to speak to tell y’all that face to face. I just hope one day you can find forgiveness in your heart so you don’t have to live with the pain anymore.

 And to Marcus, I always thought about you. And I’m sorry that I took your mom and brother away. I hate that you had to experience that. I just can’t imagine, but I’m truly sorry for what I’ve done, and I wish y’all peace and joy as much as you can. But I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. I can’t say nothing else. Reyes, I’m sorry.

 I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry, man. Lonnie, I’m sorry. Marcus, I’m sorry. I’m glad you can fulfill your dreams, though, whatever they are. I hope to find Roxanne and Anthony in heaven, and I can tell them I’m sorry face to face, cuz I don’t wish y’all no more pain. I hope y’all go in peace. I really do. I’m sorry.

” His voice cracked with tears throughout. A tear rolled down the right side of his face as the lethal injection began. Marcus Figueroa, standing just feet away, showed no visible emotion, said nothing. The Associated Press reporter in the witness room noted that no words were spoken and no emotion was displayed by any of the seven victim relatives watching.

 In the weeks before his death, Ricks had written a letter to an Italian pen friend through the Community of Sant’Egidio, an organization that corresponds with death row inmates around the world. In that letter, he quoted the prophet Nehemiah. “I too have a wall before me. I don’t ask God to pull me out, but to give me the strength to finish the race.

 Let us thank God, for he can see the best in us, while everyone else sees only the worst.” Ricks was pronounced dead at 6:55 p.m. He was the sixth person executed in the United States in 2026. And somewhere in that room, a 25-year-old man with scars on his neck walked out of a viewing room and back into a life that was changed forever when he was 12 years old.

 Two down, one more to go. And in some ways, this final case is the one that started it all for March 2026, at least in terms of the timeline, because this execution happened first, >> [music] >> March 3rd, and involved a man who had been sitting on death row for 35 years. A man who was barely an adult when he committed the crime.

 A man whose intellectual disability was never in dispute, only whether it met threshold to save his life. It didn’t. Billy Leon Curse, Florida, executed March 3rd, 2026. The fifth execution in the United States in 2026. Billy Leon Curse was 53 years old when he was executed at Florida State Prison in Raiford.

 He had been on death row for 35 years, longer than many of his fellow inmates had been alive. The crime that put him there happened in 1991. He was 18 years old. January 18th, 1991, Fort Pierce, Florida, St. Lucie County, approximately 10:00 p.m. Fort Pierce Police Sergeant Danny Parrish was on patrol. He spotted a car driving the wrong way down a one-way street and initiated a traffic stop.

 The driver was 18-year-old Billy Leon Cursey. Cursey refused to produce a driver’s license. He gave Parish several false names. When Parish ordered him out of the vehicle and attempted to handcuff him, a violent struggle broke out. In the middle of that struggle, Cursey grabbed Parish’s own service revolver. He fired 14 times.

Nine shots struck Parish in the body. Four struck his body armor. The officer went down. A taxi driver nearby heard the shots and called for help over Parish’s radio. Parish was rushed to hospital. He died that night. He was 29 years old. Cursey fled the scene with the weapon, later hiding the gun. But Parish had called in the license plate before initiating the stop, a routine procedure that would prove decisive.

Police traced the plate to the address where Cursey was staying and arrested him within hours. He waived his right to remain silent and confessed. He never disputed that he had killed Danny Parish. Not once. Not in 1991. Not in 2026. Cursey was charged with first-degree murder and robbery with a firearm. He was convicted in October 1991.

The jury recommended death. But the Florida Supreme Court later found that the trial court had failed to give jurors specific information about the aggravating circumstances being considered in sentencing. A new sentencing hearing was [music] ordered. In September 1997, 6 years later, a new jury unanimously recommended death again. The death sentence was reimposed.

Two aggravating factors drove the sentence. The crime had occurred during a robbery and the victim was an on-duty law enforcement officer. Cursey’s case drew major controversy due to claims of intellectual disability with experts stating he had lifelong cognitive impairments, raising arguments that his execution violated Atkins versus Virginia.

 His young age at the time of the crime, just over 18, also fueled concerns about maturity and judgment. Some Florida Supreme Court justices had previously opposed his death sentence and even retired justice publicly urged clemency. Despite this, no intervention came. Clemency was not granted and the US Supreme Court denied his final appeal, allowing the execution to proceed.

 On the morning of March 3rd, 2026, Billy Leon Cursey woke up at 6:30 a.m. at Florida State Prison. He was calm. He received one visitor. He met with a spiritual advisor. He was, according to corrections officials, in good spirits. More than a dozen family members of Danny Parish and law enforcement officers were present in the witness room.

 Among them was Murtha Busbin, Danny Parish’s widow. Now 60 years old, a victim advocate, a woman who had sat through 11 separate legal hearings across 35 years, all in pursuit of this moment. At the 1991 sentencing hearing, when Cursey had been given a chance to speak before receiving his sentence, he had looked at Murtha, smiled, and winked.

 She had decided at that moment that she would see his execution through to the end. She kept that promise. The execution began just after 6:00 p.m. Billy Leon Cursey declined his last meal. He refused all food on the day of his execution. When the warden asked Cursey if he had any final words, he said the only thing he could do was ask for forgiveness from the Parish family.

Parts of what he said were nearly inaudible to witnesses in the chamber. What was recorded was this, “To his family, I sincerely apologize for what I have done. There is no way I can ever repay that. And in turn, I pray my father would give me the strength to ask their forgiveness to give you peace and resolve. Give me peace. Thank you.

” Cursey convulsed briefly in the first moments as the drugs entered his system. The execution lasted 22 minutes, reported as the longest Florida execution in years. After it was over, Murtha Busbin stood before the cameras and spoke about what she had just witnessed. She said, “I do find peace in that Mr.

 Cursey did apologize this evening prior to his departure and that made me feel at peace that I can forgive him and move on.” She had not expected the apology. It surprised her and it mattered to her. She also said, “It’s been a long, long 35 years. We didn’t win anything though. We lost another life. But we did get justice. I knew I had to do this.

 This was a mission that had to be done. It’s not about winning. It’s not about me. It’s about justice for Danny and Danny deserved it.” Carla Casonelli, a 911 dispatcher who had worked alongside Danny Parish for years, was also there. She told reporters that the process had taken far too long. She said Cursey should not have been allowed 17 separate appeals because, as she put it, “Danny didn’t get 17 extra minutes to live.

” Billy Leon Cursey was pronounced dead at 6:24 p.m. on March 3rd, 2026. He was 53 years old. He had been on death row for 35 years. He was the fifth person executed in the United States in 2026 and he was the third person executed in Florida in just the first 63 days of that year. Three men, three crimes, three executions, all within the space of 14 days.

 Taken together, they paint a complex picture not just of crime and punishment, but of grief, of survival, of justice delayed, of questions that never fully get answered. Michael Lee King went to the gurney and spoke only of his own spiritual journey. He did not apologize to the family of the woman he murdered.

 He did not acknowledge what he took from them. Whether that represents peace, deflection, or something else entirely, only he knew. Cedric Allen Ricks spent his final moments in tears looking at a man he had stabbed 25 times 13 years earlier saying he was sorry. Whether that apology meant anything to Marcus Figueroa, a man who survived something no 12-year-old should ever have to endure, is something only Marcus knows.

 And Billy Leon Cursey, a teenager when he killed the police officer, a man who spent 35 years on death row, surprised even the widow of his victim with an apology she had not expected. A widow who found, in that moment, something she described as peace. Three men, three very different final moments, and one question that remains, no matter where you stand on the death penalty, [music] when the state executes someone, are we achieving justice? Are we preventing future harm? Are we finding closure? Or are we simply doing to them what they

did to someone else and calling it something more? The victims in these cases were real people. Sergeant Danny Parish, Roxanne Sanchez, 8-year-old Anthony Figueroa, Denise Amber Lee. Their lives mattered. Their deaths changed the people who loved them forever. And the men who took those lives faced their own ends in March 2026.

 What you believe should happen in cases like these, that is yours to decide. But the record is here. The facts are here. The last words are here and they deserve to be remembered, all of them. If you found this video informative, please consider leaving a comment with your thoughts. What do you think about the final words of these three men? Did any of them surprise you? Let me know below.

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