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That kind of control and attention, rare commodities in prison, are part of what makes volunteering attractive. Texas had planned to execute Alexander Martinez, 28, on March 10, less than three years after he waived his appeals. The former runaway spent a lifetime being abused and abusing others. Along the way, he developed a tangle of homicidal fantasies and longings for acceptance. During a stint in prison, Mexican Mafia inmates became his new family. To impress them after he was paroled, he killed a prostitute and quickly bragged about it to cops. In an interview with TIME, Martinez was resolute about staying a step ahead of what he considered a rigged system. "I'm not gonna play their game," he said. "I might as well go out now." But even in Texas, which has executed more volunteers than any other state, it's not that simple: barely a week from death, Martinez had his execution postponed for three months to ensure that his paperwork is in order.
In Connecticut, Raymond Roode wishes the state would expedite Michael Ross's execution. Twenty years ago, Ross killed Roode's 14-year-old stepdaughter and her best friend. Roode says the state should execute Ross on its own schedule, not the killer's. He suspects Ross will find a way to get out of his May date with the needle. "It just makes me sick," says Roode, "that he's still calling the shots." --With reporting by Wendy Grossman/ Houston and David E. Thigpen/ Chicago