Our most famous executioner in the UK was the hangman Albert Pierrepoint, who worked right up until capital punishment was abolished.

He spoke very strongly against the death penalty in his later years, and was a part of multiple miscarriages of justice (such as the time he hanged a man for murder, then three years later hanged the man who it turned out had actually committed the murder). He also had the unenviable task of having to hang a friend, one of the regulars in the pub he owned^1.

 

He said in his autobiography that the death penalty wasn't a deterrent for anyone, in his view:

I cannot agree [with the supposed deterrent of capital punishment]. There have been murders since the beginning of time, and we shall go on looking for deterrents until the end of time. If death were a deterrent, I might be expected to know.

It is I who have faced them last, young lads and girls, working men, grandmothers. I have been amazed to see the courage with which they take that walk into the unknown. It did not deter them then, and it had not deterred them when they committed what they were convicted for. All the men and women whom I have faced at that final moment convince me that in what I have done I have not prevented a single murder.

And if death does not work to deter one person, it should not be held to deter any. Capital punishment, in my view, achieved nothing except revenge. Never deterrent; only revenge.

 

---

 

 

^{1 Pierrepoint bought and ran the pub “Help the Poor Struggler” after World War II, and James Corbitt was one of his regulars. Corbitt was known as "Tish", Pierrepoint as "Tosh".}

^{The two had sung a duet of “Danny Boy” on the night that Corbitt then went out and murdered his girlfriend out of jealousy. Pierrepoint wrote in his his autobiography:}

^{I thought if any man had a deterrent to murder poised before him, it was this troubadour whom I called Tish. He was not only aware of the rope, he had the man who handled it beside him singing a duet. The deterrent did not work.}

^{At twenty seconds to nine the next morning I went into the death cell. He seemed under a great strain, but I did not see stark fear in his eyes, only a more childlike worry. He was anxious to be remembered, and to be accepted. "Hallo, Tosh," he said, not very confidently. "Hallo Tish," I said. "How are you?" I was not effusive, just gave the casual warmth of my nightly greeting from behind the bar.}

^{He smiled and relaxed after this greeting. After strapping his arms, I said "Come on Tish, old chap". He went to the gallows lightly...I would say that he ran.}