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The Execution of Christa Pike

On By ChristopherIn Children in Prison, Death Row, In This World, Women Behind Bars1 Comment

By Christopher Monihan

I don’t even know where to begin today’s post. For the first time in a long time I am at a loss for words.

Christa Pike is an incarcerated person and let’s establish that here and now — she is a PERSON and not a prisoner, or inmate or whatever other stereotype word uninformed people have for those who are incarcerated — and she is on death row in Tennessee for a crime she committed when she was a teen girl. She has been on death row for nearly 32 years.

The state of Tennessee recently went to put her to death using so-called lethal drugs, of which the sourcing and particular nature are kept secret due to America’s growing opposition toward the death penalty. For nearly 30 minutes onlookers watched as Christa Pike endured being poisoned to death. For nearly 30 minutes the state of Tennessee carried out societal retribution.

Then, more than 30 minutes after the execution began, Christa Pike was rushed to a hospital.

As I write Christa Pike is alive. Officials in Tennessee are putting on their best ‘Uh, what happened?’ faces and the governor has ordered an investigation and review of what happened.

By now many of you reading this will have searched Christa Pike and read about her botched execution (which no doubt will be attempted again if history is any guide), and read about the crime that put her on death row, and about her accomplices who struck deals with the state of Tennessee to testify against her and save their own skin despite all three having participated in the murder of a schoolmate.

What you may not know about Christa Pike is that she was a child who grew up in an impoverished household and endured physical and mental abuse. She lived in a dysfunctional family that didn’t nurture her in those critical developmental years as a child that we now know are important. By the time she was 17 she suffered from numerous traumas. I know all of this because I got to know Christa Pike.

She and I regularly wrote to each other several years ago. I lost contact with her shortly after the covid pandemic, but understood why. Just mentally making it through another day on death row or even writing a simple letter was difficult for her on some days. In my letters with her she expressed numerous fears and personal struggles all of which were trauma related.

Christa is a bright girl who is optimistic but struggles to cope with traumas wrought from her childhood. As an adult she understood these truths. She often told me how she had worked to overcome her traumas and to heal.

The thing that struck me about Christa was how caring she seemed. She often talked about simply wanting to be loved. She shared her dreams of walking on the grass again, of being outside again, and of someday being able to travel to places in the world.

She shared with me the love she had for her family. Despite all that she endured in her childhood, she truly loved her family. I love my family and I think most readers can relate. She cherished the few visits she received and looked forward to a day where she could be with family again. This despite knowing she may never leave death row.

In the press Christa Pike is painted as a monster. People that do not know her have offered up their opinions to support this assertion. There is nearly nothing in the media that speaks to who Christa Pike is, but only of her worst moment in life. It is easy to dismiss a person sentenced to death when we label them as less than human.

What Christa and her accomplices did to a classmate in the woods one day a lifetime ago is inexcusable. It is obvious to anyone who reads about that day that Christa Pike did not arrive at that moment in a positive mental capacity. As a teen she was a follower, and greatly influenced by her accomplices. She has been severely punished for her actions, while her accomplices walk free.

I believe that we all atone for our sins. When we commit crime we face punishment and I accept that. But, when is punishment enough? Is it when we reach the stated end of a court ordered sentence of are released by a parole board or other governing authority? Is it when we reach a point in our lives where we have changed our thinking and overcome our traumas? Or is it when we are tortured for 30 minutes in a botched execution yet survive? Which is it?

The death penalty has been abolished in nearly every Western nation in the world. The United States holds itself in company with countries like Sudan, China, Russia, and Iran with clinging to the death penalty. We sacrifice a piece of our humanity when society clings to revenge.

Christa Pike is a human being who loves, and dreams of a better life and a better world. She cherishes thoughts of the past and of a comfort that time and trauma have not yet stole from her. She loves her family and friends. These are the things that she talked about with me.

The one thing that recurred in our letters was how she felt deep remorse for what she and her friends did. She owned her past and never once tried to shirk acceptance and responsibility. She even spoke of a hopeful future that she believed could still come true.

However, in our letters I realized that Christa Pike was in many ways still a teenage girl. She knows not life past 18 years old, she only knows four walls with a steel door. When we come to prison, it has a way of arresting mental development. Unless you are aware of this truth, you will always have one mental foot chained in the past. This is the Christa Pike that our society wishes to kill.

Now she lies in a hospital between life and death. The state of Tennessee tried for nearly 30 minutes to kill this girl and failed.

Has Christa Pike paid her debt to society? Or are we no more civil than the animals?

*Christopher Monihan is an author, journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

If anyone reading this knows and is in contact with Christa Pike, please reach out to me through prison messaging app ” GTL GettingOut” (my booking number is A310612 and I am at ODRC Madison Correctional Institution), or by mail at :
Christopher Monihan A310612
MaCI / OMPC
884 Coitsville-Hubbard Road
Youngstown, Ohio 44505

Dear Mr. Tanvir
By Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn 1st Times, Angels, In This World, Pivotal MomentsLeave a comment

Dear Mr. Tanvir,

It has been a decade since I last saw you.

Recently, I was working on a self-help reentry course and within the module the course assigned a writing assignment:

“Write a letter to someone who has made an impact on your life since you have been incarcerated. Express your thoughts and feelings.”

There have been many who have positively impacted my life over the past 32 years of incarceration. I am grateful. None though impacted my life more than you.

We met in the summer of 2006. I remember that day well. I was working the library front desk checking in books when you walked in.

For weeks rumors swirled about someone new who had been hired to replace our outgoing boss. This new person was said to also be an imam and a hard man. The rumors were true. You were a hard man, but I am thankful for that.

That year I was going through a very dark time in my life. I was 11 years in on a 50 year sentence and on most days was only existing.

I remember our first discussion about Islam. I knew nothing about he Holy Koran, about its history and its prophet Mohammed or about the people of the world who are believers. I only knew stereotypes about your faith — just as most people only know stereotypes about incarcerated people.

I am ashamed to even admit that truth.

Despite my ignorance you kindly sat with me day-after-day patiently teaching me that which I didn’t understand. I must have peppered you with hundreds of questions.

You gently allowed me to discover my own truths, never trying to impose a belief upon me. I am grateful for you having done that.

Yet, I am most grateful for something else you did. While at work, in between my job duties at the front desk, I would sit and write. On one of those days you called me into the office and asked to see what I was writing.

I was hesitant because I knew you were a hard man, and I was nervous because I knew you would see what I had written.

“What is this?” you asked.
“I’m writing a book for correctional staff,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because there are things that many staff do that incarcerated people receive in a negative way. It doesn’t have to be this way. It can be done better, and it can help us.”

I sat quietly as you skimmed my work. You then photocopied each page and returned my originals to me without explanation saying, “Go back to work.” I returned to the front desk nervous and worried.

Two days later you called me back into the office.

“Sit down,” you said.
I took a seat.
“I have a couple of books for you,” you said. “I got permission to bring these to you. They are books from my college days. These are written by renowned people and I want you to read them. They will help you to write your book.”

The books were written by Drs. Samenow and Yochelson, psychologists who have influenced the modern day approach to corrections and interacting with incarcerated people.

Over the next several weeks I read each book — one-thousand six-hundred pages of research data, and observations — the culmination of Samenow and Yochelson’s decades of research into the thinking and actions of people who live outside societal norms.

To my astonishment, I observed myself within those pages. By the time I had finished reading I understood myself for the first time in my life.

Thank you Mr. Tanvir for your kindness, and for gently steering me toward discovery. Because of you I found myself. I gained what I needed in order to change — my thinking, values, actions, and observations — and how to do it. Because of you I have embarked upon a lifetime journey of reconciliation and growth.

I now help others who are in the same dark place I once was. I help them to help themselves while discovering a new path with a bright future. You would be proud of me.

Even in your last days when sick with cancer, you still found time to shower me with wisdom and love. If you had a mission in this world I know you accomplished it.

May Peace Be With You.


*Christopher Monihan is an author of two books, a journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

I Choose the Path of Most Resistance

By Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn 1st Times, Gangs, In This World, International, Pivotal Moments, RehabilitationLeave a comment

In 1995, I was sentenced to 50 years in a high security prison, in a state where I had no one and knew no one. I was totally alone.

An initial piece of advice convicts gave me was, “Forget about the outside world because you are never getting out. You may as well get comfortable and make a name for yourself in prison because that is all that matters.” Making a ‘name’ for yourself meant joining a gang, fighting, resisting the guards, and being willing to put your life on the line.

In prison the path of least resistance is to conform to the crowd, make their values and goals your values and goals. I was a terrified young man being alone in this environment. My head throbbed and I longed for relief from the stress, pain, and loneliness that gripped me. “Just join us,” I remember one of the shot callers saying to me. “Everyone does in the end.”

I wanted desperately to embrace the path of least resistance to stop my pain. But something inside me refused to listen to those voices.

Instead, I chose the path of most resistance. If I was going to make it through Hell I had to figure out a way, to find that path through this journey.

You don’t know how strong you are until you are forced to face your fears. There is no growth in following the crowd and no strength in the refuge of sanctuary, for when challenge comes all you seek is to flee from it.

What gave me confidence in myself wasn’t the fact I was surrounded by lions. No. What gave me confidence in myself was the years I spent alone, sitting on a prison bunk in the middle of chaos teaching myself how to write. I dropped out of highschool after the 9th grade, and my secret was that I barely knew how to write. I couldn’t grasp it, but I knew I wanted to learn and to overcome my fear of English. Not just overcome, but conquer it and so I clutched pen and faced blank pages everyday and overcame. On the days when I didn’t overcome I still faced the blank page, and wrote something if not a single sentence vowing to try again tomorrow.

After a while I had stacks and stacks of filled pages I’d written and began to realize something. I am strongest in my discomfort. It is in discomfort where I build confidence and grow.

Prison isn’t about physical strength. It’s about mental fortitude, about what’s in your mind. You must face yourself and that is the greatest challenge. It took years before I truly understood this.

Happiness and peace is found first in your mind “The quality of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts” (Marcus Aurelius). Then, you discover your truth that enlightenment is in your heart and soul, but you had to journey to understand. Deep down you knew all along.

I took a risk decades ago by telling others I don’t share their views. I faced the fear of retribution for shunning the convict establishment. And retribution came.

Even on my darkest days where no one came to my aid and I had no one to go to, I stood my ground owning what came with my decision. Every hardship and defeat I endured only made me stronger. It made it possible for me to face myself. When you face yourself you overcome yourself. You discover there is nothing in this world that you cannot overcome.

I’ve heard a lot of advice over the decades I’ve been Inside. Most of it was shortsighted or prison focused; limiting or self-centered, or offered by individuals who didn’t live by the very words that came out of their mouths. Everyone seems to have an opinion.

I don’t care about opinions. What I know is that I am who I am because I face my fears when others flee from them. “The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones” (Confucius). I’ve put in the hard work to overcome and to better myself. “I must be willing to give up what I am in order to become what I will be” (Einstein) and now I know there isn’t anything I can’t achieve.

I act on what I feel and I question what I hear and see and this works for me. What works for you may be something different only you can answer that question.

I tell guys around me, you need to discover who you are. You need to face yourself and then put in the work — damn hard work, for there are no shortcuts — to better yourself and to build the future you sincerely desire. It doesn’t matter who you are or how long your sentence is because this journey isn’t a part time thing. “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are” (Carl Jung).

I will forever be grateful for the day after Christmas 1996 here in prison. I had spent the previous night vomiting, fighting fever and cold sweats. The next morning I somehow stumbled to the infirmary for help, and after 5 minutes was dismissed by a guard, “Go back to your unit,” the guard said. “You’ll live.” Five minutes that changed my life. I understood then that no one cared if I survived or perished and it was up to me to live. To face discomfort and thrive. “In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our right hand it must be wrought” (William Wordsworth). And I have taken that moment and taught myself to think differently, for here in prison you must know how far you’ve come or you will remain stuck where you began.

When you are alone over months, years, and decades with nothing but your thoughts you figure it out. And when you do you embrace the journey and begin to truly live.

In the 5 minutes it took you to read this I hope that it changes someone’s life, just as 5 minutes once changed mine “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others” (Nelson Mandela).


*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

Thank you! for following. If you haven’t already, subscribe and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post. —Christopher

Some of Us Are Looking At the Stars by Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn Children in Prison, In This World, RehabilitationLeave a comment

I find strength and direction in the words of Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — all of whom were formerly incarcerated people. Their experience is that of every prisoner for the experience of incarnation transcends borders and time.

One of my favorite writings is the Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde. Wilde was imprisoned more than 150 years ago in Europe’s infamous Reading Gaol prison. A former socialite fallen from grace, Wilde is reborn through the trials and tribulations of his time while at Reading Gaol.

(“And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats / None know so well as I” — Oscar Wilde)

Wilde struggled to cope with what he witnessed at Reading Gaol. Fellow prisoners preying upon one another, executions by the Hangman’s nose; and the beating of an imprisoned child younger than 10 years old at the hands of Reading Gaol’s warders. The boy’s crime? Shoplifting bread for nothing more than to stave off Poverty’s cruel hand of starvation.

(“In Reading Gaol by Reading Town / There is a pit of shame.” — Oscar Wilde)

Every prison has its pit of shame, metaphorical for the dark acts kept hidden from the light of day. I am captivated by the words of a prisoner who lived centuries before me, for our experience transcends time. Every incarcerated person can relate. If I slow down but for a moment I can hear the heavy metal clank of Reading Gaol’s cell doors, feel the damp on my skin and taste the mustiness of air, for despite the separation of time some things in prison don’t change.

Early in my sentence the State of Ohio executed its incarcerated people with cyclical rhythm. On those days the gravity of execution weighed heavy on many of us.

Oscar Wilde too struggled with the executions of his time. He understood, as I do too, that we give up a piece of our humanity when society clutches revenge close to it’s heart.

(“To see the universe and all pervading spirit of truth face to face, one must be able to love the meanest of all creatures as one’s self.” — Mahatma Gandhi)

In the 1990’s I became a certified GED tutor. I tutored the kids that were here, juvenile boys the youngest of whom was 14 years old. Like Wilde, I felt for the kids.

My experience with the juveniles taught me a lot about myself. The boys suffered from childhood traumas  with many having been sexually abused; or came from broken homes; or came from the foster care system — many from all three and then some. The more I got to know them the more I realized they were just like other boys. They yearned for acceptance, love, and guidance. They dreamt the same dreams every teen boy dreams, except for them dreams were all they had.

(“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands in times of challenge.” — Martin Luther King Jr.)

My time tutoring the boys greatly impacted me. As Oscar Wilde did I too witnessed similar things, boys struggling to cope and make sense of their situation; and, boys who were beaten by the very people entrusted with their safety. What is a yong man to make of this? I was still a kid myself back then.

On a balmy afternoon when the sky was blue and unfettered, one of my students was murdered on account of his skin color. I was devastated. The evil that lurks in every prison had struck close to me.

I had poured my heart and soul into that kid and then he was no longer. My mind literally couldn’t process what had happened. I had gotten to know the boy and realized he simply yearned for a guiding figure in his life — it seemed all the boys yearned for that.

I hid my trauma and pain from family. I have always shielded them from unnecessary worry as most incarcerated people do. I’ve only recently begun writing about that long ago event.

In prison we experience things only our nightmares can prepare us for. We hide that which the world makes us hold, while groping through shadows searching for light.

Sometimes the act of breathing is a triumph in itself.

(“The greatest glory in living is(n’t) never failing, but rising every time we fail.” — Nelson Mandela)

After a lifetime on the Inside I have found myself. I know my purpose in this world and I live it each day. The adversities I have faced, the traumas I’ve overcome, and each dream that has crashed and burned has molded me anew. I arise from ash and dust every day.

Nelson Mandela was an angry youth when he was cast away to prison. Over 27 years of imprisonment he arrived at the same conclusions I have: There is no room for anger; only love defeats hatred, and hope illuminates darkness. To adopt these principles is to move the world for when you hate, hate finds you but when you love, love comes to us. Mandela exemplified these truths.

No one is infallible. No matter what a man or woman has done we are still part of the same family the human family. We are redeemable. However, we must first be willing to lower the sword of personal bias and judgement in order to see this.

(“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” — Oscar Wilde)

I never dwell on the past. I choose to pursue a new life, one based on core values of community, faith, family, integrity, honesty, and transparency. I credit the titans — Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — for having had courage to write about their experience. Through their works I find strength, purpose and direction.

In prison we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist, and Stillwater Award Recipient. His newest book ‘Christopher and Friends: Reflections From Behind the Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is available on Amazon.

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Nerdgasm By Christopher Monihan

On By ChristopherIn In This World2 Comments

I am a nerd at heart. Science came easy to me growing up and I embraced technology. I am most comfortable surrounded by all things technological.

One of my favorite characters on Star Trek the Next Generation is “Data”. A humanoid android perfect in his ability to solve the complex but flawed in his humanity. The Artificial Intelligence (AI) that made him was brilliant, yet flawed.

I marvel at how AI is sweeping the world. For all of the anxiety AI conjures in the public psyche its promise outweighs everything. We have taken a step closer to becoming the gods ourselves.

From my caged perch in prison I observe with yearning eyes the world’s astounding technologies that were all but science fiction the last time I was in the free world. For me AI’s coming of age is the ultimate nerdgasm.

I recently experienced AI in a way that left me nearly speechless. I am a choir singer in the Harmony Project, a nonprofit out of Columbus, Ohio that comes into my prison once a week. We learn popular contemporary songs and for an hour sing together in community and shared humanity. Harmony’s message to the incarcerated is “Where you are does not define who you are”. For the past three years Harmony has brought joy to my life.

Two of the songs we are learning are all originals. When the 75 men of Harmony at my facility first heard each song, we thought they were songs from a popular artist. So when David Brown, who leads Harmony, revealed that the songs were created by Harmony using an AI application my jaw fell open. The music is indistinguishable from a top 40 hit. But none of it is real.

As I have learned both songs over the past several weeks, dozens of AI themed writing ideas sparked in my mind.

Knowing that I can literally create whatever my mind comes up with — because rest assured, AI is filling that role — fills me with an excitement unlike any I’ve ever had. The fact that I can unleash AI to compute and sort through reams of data and create accordingly per my parameters, opens doors that would otherwise have remained closed to me once I am home again. AI can become a formerly incarcerated person’s great ally and I know exactly how I would use it to help myself. I also know how I would apply it as a resource for the one million returning citizens releasing from our jails and prisons every year, both through nonprofit and for profit efforts.

I have closely followed the public release of AI and have watched as it sparks excitement and fear in people. Fear of the unknown and what people don’t understand, and excitement for AI’s promise to lift humanity.

I am old enough to remember the public’s dismay and fear over the first implanted artificial heart into a human patient. People screamed, We’re playing God! Today artificial hearts are common place. Where have all the naysayers gone?

I remember the public uproar and fear when scientists cloned ‘Dolly’ the sheep. It would only be a matter of time before people are cloned! Screamed the doomsayers. Nowadays we clone everything from plants to our own house pets. No one seems too worried about cloning anymore.

Today the naysayers are running around with their arms flailing over AI. I suspect 10 years from now we will look back upon this moment in time and shake our heads. Fast forward 50 years and I cannot begin to fathom how far society will have advanced due to AI. The scientific puzzles we’ll have solved; the drugs we’ll have created that will save millions of people, and the societal advancement that will ensue. AI is the breakthrough equivalent of the transistor or dare I say, electricity.

Focusing on the here and now AI is a blessing to the men and women who have spent decades living in cages and are now regurgitated back into a society alien from the one they remember. I can frame whatever questions I have into popular AI models and literally catch up. I can fill the knowledge void that all returning citizens have, and I can do it without shame or embarrassment. For us, everything in society is new and nothing is of old.

I have spent decades thinking about society and the broader world. I’ve spent so much time thinking and pondering that I have discovered, learned, and become –that which I have, and that which I am — brand new with eyes wide open to truths I would never have found. To say I am aware is an understatement.

Some people will refuse to accept AI no matter what. Some will fear AI for fear’s sake. Those that do will be left behind. I, on the other hand, will embrace AI at every turn.

In prison where one’s existence is measured by the passing of meal times, count times, and pages torn from calendars the promise of AI in a new life is the equivalent of leaving purgatory and stepping one foot into Heaven.


*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.

Thank you! for following. Click on subscribe and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post. Also, my newest book, ‘Christopher And Friends: Reflections From Behind The Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is now available on Amazon.