Willie Francis: The Teen Who Survived the Electric Chair

In 1945, a 16-year-old Black teenager named Willie Francis faced a death sentence in Louisiana for the murder of a local pharmacist. Strapped into the state’s electric chair, known as “Gruesome Gertie,” he braced for the end. But when the switch was flipped, something unthinkable happened—Willie survived. The chair malfunctioned, leaving him alive but shaken. His lawyers fought hard, arguing that sending him back to the chair would be cruel and unconstitutional. Yet, the courts disagreed, and in 1947, Willie faced the electric chair again. This is the gripping story of Willie Francis, a young man caught in a flawed justice system, whose case sparked debates about fairness, punishment, and human rights that echo even today.

A Small Town Shaken by Murder

St. Martinville, Louisiana, in 1944 was a quiet, segregated town. Life moved slowly, and the community was tight-knit, especially among the Cajun residents. Andrew Thomas, a 54-year-old pharmacist, ran a local drugstore and was well-liked. He was a bachelor, private, and something of a mystery to some townsfolk. Willie Francis, a 16-year-old Black teen, had worked odd jobs for Thomas, running errands and helping at the store. Born into a poor family, the youngest of 13 children, Willie grew up in a world where opportunities for Black kids were scarce. He had a bad stutter, which made him shy, but he loved playing baseball with friends.

On November 8, 1944, tragedy struck. Andrew Thomas was found dead in his home, shot multiple times. The town was stunned. Rumors swirled about why someone would kill the pharmacist. Was it a robbery? A personal grudge? For nine months, the police had no leads. The case seemed destined to go cold.

Willie’s Arrest and Questionable Confession

In August 1945, Willie Francis, now 16, was in Port Arthur, Texas, visiting his sister. Police stopped him on suspicion of drug trafficking, though no evidence supported this. During the stop, they claimed Willie was carrying Andrew Thomas’s wallet—a claim that raised eyebrows since no proof of this was shown at trial. Willie was brought back to Louisiana for questioning. Alone, without a lawyer or family, and under intense pressure, he confessed to Thomas’s murder. The confession was full of holes. It didn’t match key details of the crime, and Willie later said he was scared and coerced. Despite this, the police had their suspect.

Willie’s trial began just six days after his arrest. His court-appointed lawyers were unprepared. They didn’t challenge the confession, didn’t call witnesses, and barely cross-examined the state’s case. Some reports even say they changed Willie’s plea from not guilty to guilty without his consent. The all-white jury, in a town steeped in racial divides, took only 15 minutes to convict Willie. The judge sentenced him to death by electrocution. At 16, Willie was headed to the electric chair.

The Day “Gruesome Gertie” Failed

On May 3, 1946, 17-year-old Willie Francis was taken to a small parish jail in St. Martinville for his execution. Louisiana’s electric chair, nicknamed “Gruesome Gertie,” was a portable, 300-pound beast of oak, leather, and wires. It was hauled from jail to jail in a red truck, powered by a gasoline engine. Executions were private, but crowds often gathered outside, drawn by the engine’s roar and the grim spectacle.

The execution team included Captain Ephie Foster, a prison guard, and Vincent Venezia, an inmate who worked as an assistant electrician. Both had been drinking heavily the night before. They set up the chair sloppily, failing to ground the current properly. Willie, his head shaved and pant leg torn for the electrodes, was strapped in. He clenched his fists, too scared to speak. Foster, with a chilling “Goodbye, Willie,” flipped the switch.

Electricity surged through Willie’s body. He convulsed, the chair shaking violently. Witnesses heard muffled screams from under the leather hood. “Take it off! Take it off! Let me breathe!” Willie cried. “I’m n-n-not dying!” For over a minute, he writhed in agony. Finally, the sheriff, E.L. Resweber, ordered the power cut. Willie was alive. “This boy really got a shock,” Resweber later quipped. Shaken, Willie was returned to his cell, and officials scrambled to figure out what to do next.

A Father’s Hope and a Lawyer’s Fight

Willie’s father, Frederick Francis, had come to the jail that day with a coffin, expecting to bury his son. Instead, he saw a chance for justice. Furious at the botched execution and Willie’s poor legal defense, he sought help. Enter Bertrand DeBlanc, a young Cajun lawyer who had just returned from World War II. Surprisingly, DeBlanc was Andrew Thomas’s best friend, which made his decision to take Willie’s case shocking. Many in St. Martinville, especially white residents, were outraged. DeBlanc, however, believed forcing Willie back to the chair was wrong—morally and legally.

DeBlanc teamed up with J. Skelly Wright, a maritime lawyer in Washington, D.C. They argued that a second execution would violate Willie’s rights under the U.S. Constitution. Specifically, they pointed to three amendments:

• Fifth Amendment: Protects against double jeopardy, meaning you can’t be punished twice for the same crime. They argued the first execution attempt counted.
• Eighth Amendment: Bans cruel and unusual punishment. They said subjecting Willie to the chair again after such trauma was inhumane.
• Fourteenth Amendment: Guarantees equal protection under the law. They claimed Willie’s trial was unfair, tainted by racism and a weak defense.

DeBlanc also uncovered that the executioners were drunk, which explained the chair’s failure. He believed this strengthened their case. The fight was on to save Willie’s life.

The Supreme Court Battle

The case, Louisiana ex rel. Francis v. Resweber, reached the U.S. Supreme Court in November 1946. It was a historic moment, as it was one of the first times the court tackled questions about botched executions. DeBlanc and Wright argued passionately, saying a second attempt would be “death by installments,” a phrase coined by Justice Harold Burton in his dissent. They asked: How many times can the state try to kill someone before it’s cruel?

The court was divided. Four justices—Burton, Douglas, Murphy, and Rutledge—agreed with Willie’s team, believing a second execution was unconstitutional. They wrote that intentionally applying the electric current again, knowing the pain Willie endured, was akin to torture. “If five attempts would be ‘cruel and unusual,’” Burton asked, “how is two not?”

But five justices, led by Justice Stanley Reed, ruled against Willie. They called the first attempt an “innocent misadventure” and said the pain Willie felt was no different from an accident, like a fire in a cell block. They argued the Constitution only bans cruelty “inherent” in the punishment method, not accidents during it. Justice Felix Frankfurter, who personally opposed the death penalty, was the swing vote. Torn, he sided with the majority but later regretted it, even trying to convince Louisiana’s governor, Jimmie Davis, to grant clemency. His efforts failed.

On January 13, 1947, a day after Willie’s 18th birthday, the Supreme Court ruled 5-4 that Louisiana could try again. Willie’s hope was fading.

Willie’s Final Days

Back in St. Martinville, DeBlanc didn’t give up. He found new evidence suggesting Willie’s trial was deeply flawed—coerced confessions, no murder weapon, and a defense that barely existed. He wanted to push for a new trial, believing Willie might not even be guilty. But Willie was tired. The year of legal battles, the trauma of the chair, and the weight of his fate had worn him down. When DeBlanc offered to take the case back to the Supreme Court, Willie said, “I’m ready to die.” He didn’t want more disappointment or to put his family through more pain.

As May 9, 1947, approached, Willie prepared for his second execution. He met with reporter Elliott Chaze, saying he’d meet the Lord with his “Sunday pants and Sunday heart.” He wore formal clothes, a far cry from the torn pants of his first attempt. About 500 people gathered outside the jail, but unlike the first time, many were there to see Willie die, not to support him. Racial tensions in the town ran high, and some saw his survival as defiance.

The Second Execution

On May 9, 1947, Willie was led to “Gruesome Gertie” again. This time, the chair was set up correctly. At 12:05 p.m., the switch was flipped. Willie received two jolts of electricity. Five minutes later, at 12:10 p.m., he was pronounced dead. The 18-year-old who had survived the electric chair once was gone. His family, including DeBlanc, mourned deeply, while the town moved on.

Willie’s case left a mark. It inspired Ernest Gaines’ 1993 novel A Lesson Before Dying, which explores themes of dignity and injustice in a similar setting. It also fueled debates about the death penalty, especially for juveniles and in cases with questionable convictions.

A Legacy of Questions

Willie Francis’s story raises tough questions. Was his trial fair? The rushed process, coerced confession, and lackluster defense suggest it wasn’t. Did his race play a role? In 1940s Louisiana, Black defendants often faced harsher treatment, and Willie’s all-white jury and quick conviction fit that pattern. Was the Supreme Court wrong? Many legal scholars today think so, arguing the court downplayed the trauma of a botched execution.

The case also highlights the death penalty’s flaws. Botched executions, though rare, still happen. In 2009, Ohio’s Romell Broom survived a lethal injection attempt after 18 failed needle jabs. Like Willie, his lawyers argued a second try was cruel, but the courts allowed it. Broom’s case, delayed to 2022, shows Willie’s story isn’t just history—it’s a warning.

Willie’s guilt remains uncertain. He never denied killing Thomas but hinted at a “secret” between them, writing in his cell that he killed him “by accident.” Without the murder weapon or eyewitnesses, doubts linger. Some wonder if Willie, a teen with a low IQ and limited education, was an easy scapegoat.

Why Willie’s Story Matters Today

At Phacts, we dig into stories that reveal the truth behind the headlines. Willie Francis’s case is a stark reminder of how justice can fail when bias, haste, and error collide. It challenges us to think about the death penalty—especially for young people—and whether it can ever be applied fairly. In 2005, the Supreme Court banned executions for juveniles under 18, citing their impulsiveness and potential for change. If Willie were tried today, he’d likely be spared. But in 1945, he had no such protection.

Willie’s story also shows the power of standing up for what’s right. Bertrand DeBlanc, despite his ties to the victim and backlash from his community, fought for Willie because he believed in fairness. His courage inspires us to question systems that seem broken.

Join the Phacts Conversation

Willie Francis’s life ended in 1947, but his story lives on, urging us to reflect on justice, mercy, and human rights. At Phacts, we’re committed to uncovering stories that make you think and spark change. What do you think about Willie’s case? Should the death penalty be used at all? Should juveniles ever face it? Share your thoughts in the comments below or on our social media pages. Subscribe to the Phacts newsletter for more gripping stories delivered straight to your inbox. Let’s keep the conversation going and shine a light on the truths that shape our world. Visit phactsblog.com today to explore more!