Death row inmates in Texas will no longer get a choice of a last meal before execution due to one man’s very specific request.
Inmates sentenced to death row are given the ‘right’ to have one final bit of food of their choice before they are executed in most US states.
While often referred to as a ‘right,’ the last meal is not legally guaranteed in the United States and does vary from state to state.
Some jurisdictions impose spending limits, others restrict menu options, and a small number have quietly scrapped the tradition altogether.
Despite this, last meals have long fascinated the public, frequently making headlines for their extravagance, symbolism, or emotional weight.
The idea of giving inmates a last meal is rooted back in ancient Rome, Greece and China – supposedly due to a superstition about meals warding off possible haunting by condemned people once they are put to death, according to Jacksonville.com.
However, one man’s decision led to other death row inmates not getting a choice of a final meal.
Death row inmate’s horrific crimes
Lawrence Russell Brewer was a white supremacist who was jailed along with three other men for murdering James Byrd Jr. in 1998.
They brutally beat him, urinated on him and spray-painted his face before dragging his body for three miles along a road after tying him to their pick-up truck.
Brewer and one of his other accomplices, John King, were the first white men to receive the death penalty for killing a Black man in modern Texas.
The other man involved, Shawn Berry, was also given a life sentence.
The murder shocked the nation and became one of the most notorious racially motivated killings in modern American history.
Nature of crime sparked tougher hate crime legislation
The brutal nature of the crime sparked widespread outrage and led to renewed calls for tougher hate crime legislation.
In 2009, the US government passed the James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Act, expanding protections against violent crimes motivated by a victim’s actual or perceived race, color, religion, national origin, gender, s**ual orientation, gender identity, or disability.
Signed by former President Barack Obama, it allows for the federal prosecution of such crimes, provides aid to local jurisdictions, and covers more victim categories than previous laws, significantly increasing federal authority to combat bias-motivated violence.
Brewer’s last meal request
Before Brewer was put to death, he was asked by prison guards what he would like to have for his last meal.
According to a report from the Houston Chronicle, Brewer cheekily requested a wide range of meals, including chicken steaks, fried okra with ketchup, and a cheese omelette with ground beef, jalapeños, and bell peppers.
On top of this, he also asked for a ‘triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, three fajitas, one pound of barbecue, and a half loaf of white bread and pizza meat lover’s special.’
The requests didn’t stop there, though, as he also wanted one pint of ‘homemade vanilla’ Blue Bell ice cream, along with one slab of peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts and three root beers.
As it was his final meal, those working in the prison did their best to accommodate Brewer’s last meal.
However, when he was given it, the inmate defiantly refused to take a single bite – stating that he wasn’t hungry.
Texas senator ends decades-long tradition
Brewer was executed in 2011, but due to his refusal, Texas senator John Whitmire ended the 87-year-old tradition, meaning from that day forward, nobody on death row in Texas would get a ‘special meal.’
According to the outlet, Whitmere said in a letter to prison chief Brad Livingston: “It is extremely inappropriate to give a person sentenced to death such a privilege.
“I have yielded to TDCJ judgment in the past, but now enough is enough.”
He added that putting an end to the right for a last meal was ‘long overdue.’
“This old boy last night, enough is enough,” Whitmire added.
“We’re fixing to execute the guy and maybe it makes the system feel good about what they’re fixing to do. Kind of hypocritical, you reckon?”
More than a decade later, Brewer’s final act continues to shape execution protocol in the state.
For some, the decision represents accountability. For others, it highlights how even symbolic traditions can become casualties in an already polarizing justice system.
