Less than an hour after the courts denied his final appeal, Abel Revill Ochoa, a Texas man who killed five people became the state’s second prisoner in 2020
executed, reported the Houston Chronicle.
With his last words, Ochoa thanked Jesus for his
salvation and apologized to his victims’ families.
“I would like to thank God, my dad, my Lord Jesus savior for
saving me and changing my life,” he said, strapped to the Huntsville gurney. “I
want to apologize to my in-laws for causing all this emotional pain. I love
y’all and consider y’all my sister I never had. I want to thank you for
forgiving me.”
He died at 6:48 p.m., 18 years after the crime that landed
him on death row.
When police initially arrested him years earlier, Ochoa said
he couldn’t handle the stress and had simply gotten tired of his life. So he’d
killed his family.
The then-30-year-old Dallas man cooperated with police from
the start, and confessed to the five murders, ultimately blaming his violent
outburst on the drugs he’d smoked less than half an hour earlier.
“My body started wanting more crack,” he told police, according
to news reports at the time. “I knew if I asked my wife for more money, she
wouldn’t let me have it. I knew she’d argue with me about the money, just like
we had in the past.”
A jury found him guilty in just 10 minutes, and in 2003
sentenced him to death. Many of his later appeals centered on claims he didn’t
have good enough legal representation earlier in the case, but in the final
days before his Thursday execution he raised claims about parole board
procedures and the prison’s reluctance to let him film a clemency plea.
Born in Mexico, Ochoa was raised by a father who beat him
with sticks and branches but, he later told the court, “not a lot.”
In the early 1990s, Ochoa married his wife Cecilia and
settled in a home in South Dallas, according to Associated Press reports. It
was a volatile relationship, with occasional separations. Then sometime around
2000 Ochoa became addicted to drugs, financing a crack habit with an illegal
loan scheme, according to court records.
One Sunday in August two years later, Ochoa went to church
with his family. On the way home, he asked his wife for money to buy drugs. She
gave in, and he bought a $10 rock of crack, according
to court records. He went out back to smoke it, then walked into the
bedroom — and came back out with a 9mm handgun. He walked into the living room,
where he systematically shot his wife, their 9-month-old daughter Anahi, his
father-in-law Bartolo and his sisters-in-law Alma and Jackie. He then walked
into the kitchen and shot his 7-year-old daughter Crystal four times.
Only Alma survived.
Afterward, Ochoa got in his wife’s Toyota 4Runner and drove
away. When police stopped and arrested him minutes later at a nearby shopping
center, he told the officer where he’d left the gun and gave a detailed written
confession.
“He said he remembers it like a dream,” his
brother Gilbert told a Dallas-Fort Worth TV station the next day. “He
was doing that drug outside and then he went into the living room.”
When the case went to trial, his lawyers argued that he’d
committed the slayings in a cocaine-induced delirium, and that he had poor
impulse control due to frontal lobe damage from drug use.
Prosecutors argued that he’d simply acted out of anger.
After he was convicted and sent to death row, Ochoa
filed appeals accusing his trial team of shoddy work. The defense
investigator responsible for learning about Ochoa’s life and uncovering reasons
to spare him didn’t speak the same language as many of the witnesses she was
supposed to interview, he argued to a federal court. The judge had only
approved her appointment at the last minute, and the trial attorneys didn’t ask
for more time until it was too late.
But a federal district court decided that it wasn’t clear
more investigating would “substantially improve” Ochoa’s chances of success,
and a federal appeals court said Ochoa’s attorneys were “simply seeking to
‘turn over every stone’” when they asked for the time and money to get another
investigator.
“No stones, in fact, have been turned over, because of the
lack of funds,” Ochoa’s lawyers wrote. “Far from quality representation, Mr.
Ochoa has only had counsel deprived of any means to effectuate his
representation.”
The U.S. Supreme Court turned down
Ochoa’s case in October 2019, but on Wednesday his attorneys tried
again in the high court. This time, his legal team wrote that he wanted to send
the parole board a video plea for clemency - but the prison system at first
wouldn’t let his lawyers film him without a court order. Reporters are often
allowed to film interviews, and Ochoa’s lawyers took issue with the prison’s
initial reluctance to allow them the same access.
After Ochoa’s death, seven more Texas executions already are
on the calendar for 2020.
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