Kiera Riley, courts and education reporter for the Arizona Capitol Times, watched the execution of Aaron Gunches as his invited witness.

From the front row in the far corner of the witness room at the state’s execution chamber, a dark curtain pulled to the edges of the viewing window reflected the faces of Attorney General Kris Mayes and Maricopa County Attorney Rachel Mitchell.

The two sat stoic, hands clasped or arm crossed, and eyes forward, as the state carried out the first execution since Mayes and Mitchell took office in 2023.

Before this moment, before Aaron Brian Gunches, sentenced to death for the 2002 kidnapping and murder of Ted Price, was strapped to a gurney, before he was set with IV lines, injected with lethal drugs and declared dead by the Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation, and Reentry came a repeated request to be killed, a continued push by Price’s family for finality, a change in leadership, a pause on capital punishment, an ensuing legal battle, a truncated external review of death penalty policies and procedures and, finally, a pivot by the governor and attorney general.

One final push came to resume executions, with assurances from the Corrections Department of a proper drug supply and a well-trained medical team with the ability to carry out the state’s gravest punishment.

“The family of Ted Price has been waiting for justice for more than two decades,” Mayes said. “They deserve closure under a system that is more transparent, more accountable and more faithful to our Constitution and the rule of law. Today, Arizona resumed the death penalty.”

At 10 a.m., witnesses made their entrance and sat across bleacher-type leather benches tracing both ends of the room. Mayes and Mitchell entered the room first, followed by the inmate’s witnesses, the media, law enforcement and the victim’s family.

The door shut, cutting off sunlight except for a small corner window covered with a green tarp. The viewing room is a light slate-gray. The walls are stucco with beige baseboards. Stretched across the front of the room is a window, dressed with closed dark curtains and framed by three TV monitors.

The monitor on the far left showed a waist up view of the gurney, and the one on the left showed a full-birds eye view. A small crop of white tile outlined the outstretched wings and shape of the gurney, with the rest of the screen blacked out.

The center screen shows eight syringes, with two sets of two green syringes framed by two black vials. The room was quiet, until the hum of the overhead microphone.

Five Department of Corrections staff members escorted Gunches into the room. He climbed onto the table and lay still. On the overhead monitors, five pairs of black gloved hands started setting his restraints — first tightening two around his ankles, then two around his wrists, and, finally, one just below his waist. They then covered him in a white sheet, folded once, which covered the middle of his chest. His arms were splayed out on the two arm rests.

The curtain opened and four medical staff, donned in white hazmat-type suits, wheeled a cart of needles and bandages past the gurney. It took medical staff three minutes to insert the IV lines. Starting with the right arm, a staff member tightened two blue rubber tourniquets around his bicep, inserted the IV, covered it with a clear bandage and taped the line to his arm.

They did the same to his left arm, while another member applied monitors to his chest.

Gunches eyes stared straight at the ceiling. He blinked, he rolled his fingers, he did not once look into the gallery.

With the IVs inserted, the medical team left the room. Some silent minutes passed before Gunches asked, “What’s the hold up?”

A voice then came over the intercom and read the warrant of execution. Gunches only shook his head when asked for last words.

“The execution will now commence,” said the voice over the speaker.

A surgical-blue gloved hand came over the monitor and started to dispense the first black syringe. Gunches was awake, conscious. As the hand moved to the green syringe and started to push, he winced, blinked. Then, he let out what sounded like a snore. He started to take deeper, more labored breaths. His body convulsed, twice. Then, he went limp.

He laid there, eyes closed, mouth just slightly parted. His chest stopped moving, and he lost color. A medical staff member came and left. At 10:33 a.m., just 33 minutes after witnesses had entered the room, the same voice that commenced the execution pronounced him dead.

The path to lethal injection

Before his execution on March 19, Gunches sat on death row for more than 20 years, an “unconstitutionally long time,” according to the attorney for the victim’s family.

In 2002, Gunches kidnapped, shot and killed Price. Price had just moved from Utah to study radiology and moved in with his ex-girlfriend Katherine Lecher.

Lecher and Price got into an argument, and Lecher struck Price in the head with a telephone, rendering him conscious but disoriented. Gunches, Lecher’s then-boyfriend, came home later in the evening and, he and two roommates, put Price in the car.

According to court documents, one roommate then drove Gunches and Price to the bus station, then later changed course and drove out into the desert past Mesa.

The car stopped, Gunches got out, Price got out. Gunches shot Price three times in the chest and once in the head.

Though the department marked today’s execution as textbook, Gunches’ advisory counsel still had their concerns.

“The State and the courts allowed Mr. Gunches to short-circuit the legal appeals process required in capital cases. This undermined the reliability of his conviction and sentence and introduced arbitrariness into the capital punishment system,” The Arizona Capitol Project, a nonprofit organization providing advisory legal services to Gunches, said in a statement.

“The current administration hand-selected Mr. Gunches as their first target knowing that, as a volunteer, he would not challenge the highly problematic execution process or drug supply. The people of Arizona deserve greater transparency and accountability from their leaders.”

Dale Baich, advisory counsel, who witnessed the execution, said in a written statement, “The witnesses did not see what happened under the jumpsuit and sheet. We know from scientific studies that rapid administration of a high dose of pentobarbital is excruciatingly painful. Pulmonary edema develops in seconds as the lungs fill with water and one is not able to breathe. There is a sensation of drowning from within and not being able to do anything about it. It is like being waterboarded to death.”

“The eight deep breaths and chest heaving, the gurgling sounds, and Mr. Gunches trying to catch his breath are all signs of pulmonary edema. Even though it may have looked peaceful, it was not.”

Gunches had long asked to die. He waived all his legal appeals, and even put it in writing.

Gunches was found competent to stand trial in 2005 and to waive his right to counsel in 2007. He represented himself, pleaded guilty to both counts and waived any presentation of mitigating evidence, raising some concern by the court that Gunches “was not attempting to avoid the death penalty.”

“Against the strong advice of the court and counsel, Gunches nonetheless insisted on representing himself,” former Vice Chief Justice John Pelander wrote in a 2016 decision.

The first jury to hear his case returned the death penalty.

After an initial appeal, the Arizona Supreme Court vacated the death sentence, finding a shortfall on evidence to fulfill the requirement of cruel, heinous or depraved aggravating factors. On remand, a jury returned a death sentence for a second time in 2013, and the state high court upheld his sentence in 2016.

Price’s sister, Karen, spoke March 19 and offered memories of her brother, Ted, a son, father, brother and friend.

She recalled their childhood in Utah, Ted’s love of the Phoenix Suns and the Arizona Diamondbacks, his guitar, his motorcycle and muscle cars. She said he had a special affection for cats, and “never met a cat he didn’t like.”

Price said, “I searched for synonyms for the word closure — it’s a term everyone throws around that doesn’t truly capture the reality of our situation. Although we’ve taken the final step in the legal process, the pain of losing Ted remains profound and cannot be conveyed in mere words.”

Price thanked Mayes, too. She said when the state first paused executions, Mayes reached out and said the family would be a priority when the state resumes executions.

She continued, “Today marks the final chapter. I genuinely hope that after today, we can finally begin to put this chapter behind us.”