Curtis Osborne, a bald and burly 37-year-old with a hint of a mustache, sat strapped to a gurney behind a glass window for all to see. His eyes shot over to a group of four reporters as we walked into the viewing chamber, locking briefly with mine. There was no way to gauge how he felt, but to me he looked horrified. I've never met Osborne, had hardly heard his name until the last few months. But we shared a powerful and unsettling bond that night, one I'll never forget. His eyes fixed on mine minutes before he took his last breath. I've worked at The Associated Press for three years now, and covered more than my share of gloom. But I had never witnessed an execution. When the chance came up to cover Osborne's June 4 execution, I saw it more as a duty than anything else. But there was also something a bit more primal about it...
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