A Parole Board Said He Shouldn’t Be Executed — But Will The Governor Listen?

In June of 1992, 31-year-old Kenneth Meers was killed by a single bullet during a robbery at the convenience store he owned in Oklahoma City.

Prosecutors charged 26-year-old Glenn Bethany and 20-year old Emmanuel Littlejohn with robbery and first-degree murder. It was possible to charge two men with one murder committed by one person because of a legal doctrine called felony murder, which states that anyone involved in a felony that leads to a death is criminally responsible for that death, regardless of their role in the actual killing.

At Bethany’s trial, the prosecutor argued he was the sole gunman who shot and killed Meers. Bethany was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. But when Littlejohn went to trial the following year, prosecutors flipped the script. This time they argued it was Littlejohn, not Bethany, who shot and killed Meers. Littlejohn was sentenced to death.

Littlejohn, who is scheduled to be executed by lethal injection on Sept. 26, admits his role in the robbery but denies shooting Meers. Last month, he made a final plea for mercy to Oklahoma’s Pardon and Parole Board. In an unusual move, the board voted 3-2 to recommend that Republican Gov. Kevin Stitt commute Littlejohn’s death sentence to life without parole.

Littlejohn’s case marks the fifth time the board has recommended clemency for people on death row since Oklahoma resumed executions in 2021. Of those, Stitt has granted clemency to only one person, Julius Jones, whose high-profile innocence claim attracted celebrity support. Thirteen others have been executed, some of whom showed signs of apparent suffering as they died. Oklahoma is responsible for some of the most infamous botched executions in the nation, and its lethal injection protocol has been the subject of extensive litigation.

The governor’s office did not respond to a request for comment.

In an interview with HuffPost, Littlejohn expressed sorrow for the pain felt by the Meers family but said he was grateful for the pardon and parole board’s clemency recommendation. “I’m just trying to stay strong,” he said. “And praying the governor gives me clemency.”

Like most people on death row, Littlejohn experienced violence and poverty as a child. His mother, who was 15 when he was born, struggled with drug and alcohol addiction, according to a petition for clemency filed by his lawyers. Littlejohn’s father was abusive, according to the petition, and the child spent time living with his grandmother, who ran a prostitution house. As a teenager, Littlejohn began selling drugs as a way to make money. At the time of the robbery that led to Meers’ death, Littlejohn and Bethany owed money to a drug dealer who had threatened violence if they didn’t repay.

When Littlejohn went to trial, jurors were unaware that prosecutors had already argued Bethany killed Meers and that Bethany had been sentenced to life without parole. The prosecution’s claim during Littlejohn’s trial that he was the shooter was a key part of the state’s argument that he deserved the death penalty.

Littlejohn’s first death sentence was overturned by the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals because of prejudicial, uncorroborated testimony by a jailhouse informant.

During his resentencing, at least one juror expressed confusion about the punishments they were choosing between. In a note submitted to the judge, the jury asked, “[I]s is possible to change the verdict of life without parole to with parole after our verdict and without another jury verdict?”

The jurors’ question suggested a concern that if they sentenced Littlejohn to life without parole, he might someday get out of prison. Life without parole sentences do not offer the opportunity for release; they are often criticized as “death by prison” sentences. But the judge simply referred jurors back to the jury instructions, which listed their sentencing options: death, life without parole, or life. Ultimately, the jurors resentenced Littlejohn to death.

When Littlejohn raised this issue on appeal, the appeals court acknowledged the confusion and suggested providing jurors with clarifying information in future cases — but did not grant relief to Littlejohn.

Since then, jurors from both Littlejohn’s 1994 trial and his 2000 resentencing trial have signed sworn affidavits indicating they did not believe a death sentence was the appropriate punishment but chose death because they believed the alternative might allow him to one day walk free.

Littlejohn, who is now 52, has not been disciplined for violent misconduct in more than 20 years, according to his clemency petition. After having a stroke last year, he uses a wheelchair to go more than a short distance. He stays in close contact with his daughter, sister and mother, who is now sober.

“They’re my heart,” Littlejohn said. “That’s my support. That’s who I love.”