The Warning, this next story is deeply, deeply disturbing.

Forty-five minutes away from midnight, on January 16th of 1936, the chaplain of New York's

Sing-Sing Maximum Security Prison walked down a long,

quiet corridor toward a stark, isolated cell. Inside, a condemned prisoner bound for the electric

chair is being shaved. A guard gently rakes a razor blade over the final few patches of stubble on his scalp,

then unceremoniously repeats the process on the prisoner's legs.

When it's time, the prisoner has led from his cell to his execution chamber,

the grim silence broken only by the whispered prayers of the prison chaplain.

Inside the chamber, the dark silhouette of the

iconic electric chair is suddenly illuminated as a guard flicks on the lights. The condemned is then

guided to the chair, its leather straps tightened around their arms, legs, and chest. A moistened

sponge is placed under a metal skull cap on their shaved head.

Another electrode is secured to the bare patch of flesh on their freshly shaven leg.

Once he secured, the guard pulls back a pair of dark curtains, revealing an observation room

filled with journalists, officials, and relatives of the condemn's departed victims.

Their faces are a mix of steely resolve and silent dread.

When asked if he has any last words, the condemn simply mutters,

I don't even know why I'm here.

The guards, who by that point had spent almost a year ensuring his continual imprisonment,

were somewhat underwhelmed by their charges' final limp statement.

One of them turns to the condemn's attorney, a man named James Dempsey.

He is in possession of several pages of handwritten notes,

...