Florida is poised to set a new state record for executions in 2025, with authorities preparing to carry out the lethal injection of Samuel Lee Smithers, a man infamously dubbed the "Deacon of Death." The scheduled execution, ordered by Governor Ron DeSantis and set for October 14, would mark the 14th time this year that the state has put an inmate to death—a figure that surpasses any previous annual tally in Florida’s modern era, according to The Tampa Bay Times and the Tampa Free Press.
Smithers, now 72, was convicted in 1999 for the brutal 1996 murders of Christy Cowan and Denise Roach at a secluded property in east Hillsborough County. At the time, Smithers was working as a caretaker. According to court documents cited by the Tampa Free Press, he lured the women to the site under the pretense of "sex for money." Once there, he murdered each woman separately and disposed of their bodies in a pond on the premises. The heinous nature of the crimes and Smithers’ subsequent moniker, the "Deacon of Death," have kept the case in the public eye for nearly three decades.
Governor DeSantis signed Smithers’ death warrant last week, as reported by The Tampa Bay Times on September 15, 2025. The execution is scheduled to be carried out by lethal injection at Florida State Prison in Raiford. Smithers’ case is one of several that highlight the state’s aggressive approach to capital punishment this year.
Florida’s pace of executions in 2025 is notable not only for its speed but also for its volume. The state has already executed 11 inmates this year, breaking its previous modern-era record of eight executions in a single year. Two more executions—those of David Joseph Pittman and Victor Tony Jones—are scheduled for later this month. If all go ahead as planned, Smithers’ execution will bring the total to 14 for the year, a staggering figure that underscores the state’s commitment to enforcing the death penalty.
The list of those executed in Florida in 2025 reads like a grim roll call. Among them are James D. Ford (executed February 13 for a 1997 murder in Charlotte County), Edward T. James (March 20, for a 1993 double murder in Seminole County), and Michael A. Tanzi (April 8, for a 2000 murder in Monroe County). Other names include Jeffrey Hutchinson, Glen E. Rogers, Anthony F. Wainwright, Thomas L. Gudinas, Michael Bernard Bell, Edward J. Zakrzewski II, Kayle Bates, and Curtis Windom. All were convicted of particularly violent crimes, many involving multiple victims or especially egregious circumstances, as detailed by Florida News.
Two upcoming executions are drawing particular attention. David Joseph Pittman, scheduled to die on September 17, was convicted in 1991 for the 1990 murders of Clarence, Barbara, and Bonnie Knowles in Mulberry, Polk County. Prosecutors said Pittman stabbed all three victims and then set their house ablaze, later torching Bonnie Knowles’ car after abandoning it in a ditch. Pittman has maintained appeals based on claims of intellectual disability, but the Florida Supreme Court denied his latest motion on September 10, ruling it untimely and procedurally barred. Pittman’s attorneys filed a last-ditch petition with the U.S. Supreme Court on September 11, but such efforts rarely succeed at this stage.
The case has drawn the attention of advocacy groups like Floridians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, which circulated a petition urging Governor DeSantis to halt the execution. In an email titled "Violence Won’t Heal Violence," the group argued, "At a time when violence is everywhere, Florida’s government has chosen to meet violence with more violence. The death penalty is punishment-as-spectacle, rooted in retribution and hatred. It does not make us safer. It does not deliver justice. It does not prevent future harm. Instead, it normalizes violence, fuels cycles of hate, and deepens our collective wounds." The group also highlighted Pittman’s troubled upbringing, noting, "He grew up in extreme poverty, with a mother who gleefully admitted to whipping him with a belt from the time he was four years old – sometimes every day. His family could not afford to continue the psychiatric treatment he needed. Violence, neglect, and hardship shaped his childhood long before the state ever called him 'defendant.'"
Victor Tony Jones is scheduled for execution on September 30. Like Pittman, he and his attorneys are pursuing late-stage legal challenges, also citing intellectual disability. Their cases, and the speed with which the state is moving, have become flashpoints in the ongoing debate over capital punishment in Florida.
Florida’s execution protocol has also evolved over the years. The state currently uses a three-drug lethal injection process, which was amended recently to include the sedative etomidate after legal challenges against the previously used midazolam. Florida was the first state in the U.S. to use lethal injection back in 1998, but it briefly abandoned the method for the electric chair before returning to lethal injection in 2000 under pressure from the U.S. Supreme Court. The current combination of drugs is intended to address constitutional concerns, but controversy remains—especially around the reliability and humaneness of the sedatives used.
Florida is not alone in its use of the three-drug cocktail for executions; states like Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi, Oklahoma, and Texas also use similar protocols. However, the national landscape is shifting. As of September 2025, 23 states have abolished the death penalty altogether, reflecting a growing movement against capital punishment in parts of the country.
For supporters of the death penalty, the record number of executions in Florida this year is seen as a necessary response to violent crime and a fulfillment of justice for victims and their families. They argue that the process provides closure and demonstrates the state’s resolve to hold the most serious offenders accountable. Critics, meanwhile, point to concerns about fairness, the risk of executing the intellectually disabled or those with traumatic backgrounds, and the broader societal impact of capital punishment as a tool of retribution.
As the date of Smithers’ execution approaches, the debate over the death penalty in Florida shows no signs of abating. The state’s record-setting pace in 2025 has put it at the forefront of a national conversation about crime, punishment, and the meaning of justice in the modern era. With each new warrant signed and each appeal denied, the stakes grow higher—not just for those on death row, but for the society that must reckon with the consequences of its choices.
As Florida prepares for its 14th execution of the year, the state stands at a crossroads, confronting both its past and its future in the shadow of the death chamber.
