James Robertson, 63, died Tuesday at Florida State Prison, the state's 17th execution of 2026, after saying he strangled his cellmate so he’d get a death sentence instead of spending the rest of his life in prison. About 10 minutes after receiving a three-drug injection, officials pronounced him dead. Asked for last words, Robertson said, "Nah, I'm straight."
Robertson pleaded guilty to first-degree murder for strangling his sleeping cellmate, Frank Hart, in 2008, and waived all appeals. He told investigators he killed Hart to get a death sentence. In effect, the state carried out a punishment the killer had demanded for himself.
The Victim's Family
Hart’s daughter, Rebecca Hart, told reporters outside the prison that her father was killed eight days before he was due to be released. "When someone you love is taken from you in such a violent way, the world keeps moving, even when a part of yours feels like it has stopped," she said. "Other people go on with their lives, but you carry your loss into every tomorrow." Hart had received a prison sentence in 2003 after a sexual battery conviction. He never made it out.
Robertson was 17 when prison officials sent him there in 1980 for burglary and assault. Later convictions for escape, battery and weapons offenses extended his sentence. By his execution, he’d spent 46 years in state custody.
A Process Under Scrutiny
Florida's Department of Corrections says its execution process uses a sedative, a paralytic and a drug that stops the heart. Before the execution, spokesperson Jordan Kirkland said, "Florida has a sound lethal injection process and protocol." He said he couldn't speak about Tennessee's protocol, but Florida would ensure its process was "humane and dignified."
That assurance comes with a recent warning attached. Two weeks earlier in Tennessee, Christa Pike survived two doses of pentobarbital. Officials took her to a hospital, and she has since been released and returned to prison.
An Unprecedented Pace
Florida had scheduled two executions for Tuesday. But Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis withdrew a death warrant last week for William Lee Thompson, 74, who was sentenced to death for his role in the 1976 kidnapping and killing of 23-year-old Sally Ivester. DeSantis gave no reason. Last month, he temporarily stayed the execution pending a psychiatric evaluation amid concerns about Thompson's mental competency and deteriorating health. Thompson's attorneys said he has dementia and failing health and sought his transfer to a medical facility.
DeSantis had never withdrawn a death warrant before. Thompson remains on death row, and DeSantis could sign a new warrant. He is the third Florida governor to sign one for Thompson; former Govs. Bob Graham and Bob Martinez each scheduled executions in the 1980s, but years of appeals and stays kept Thompson from the electric chair.
The withdrawal stands out against the broader pattern. In July, Florida executed two prisoners in one day, the first time a state had done so in nearly a decade. Since 2025, DeSantis has signed a flurry of death warrants and oversaw a record 19 executions last year, more than any Florida governor in a single year since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976. That accounted for approximately 40% of the U.S. total for 2025. Nationwide, officials carried out 47 executions last year, the highest annual total since 2009. Florida has carried out more than half of the country's 31 executions so far this year.
Two more executions are already scheduled, not counting Thompson. William Reaves, 77, convicted of fatally shooting a deputy in 1986, is set for Oct. 20. Jesse Guardado, 64, convicted of robbing and killing a woman to buy drugs in 2004, is set for Nov. 5.
Why This Matters: Robertson's case raises a hard question about what a death sentence means when the condemned person asked for it. He told investigators he killed so the state would kill him, and Florida obliged. At the same time, Florida is carrying out executions faster than at any point since 1976, while its governor withdrew a warrant for a 74-year-old with dementia only after concerns over his competency became public, and without explanation. Tennessee’s failed execution, in which the prisoner survived, shows what’s at stake when procedures go wrong. At this pace, executions involving elderly and mentally compromised prisoners put pressure on the courts and oversight bodies meant to ensure punishment is applied carefully and fairly.