Featured Photo by Kailee Shores
Story by Kalea Jackson
Amy Sayward, a history professor at Middle Tennessee State University, recently celebrated her 22nd year of a friendship with a man who has spent the last 26 years on Tennessee’s death row.
Once a month Sayward is escorted to a small room, painted light gray, inside the heavily fortified Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Nashville. Farris Morris, 67, found guilty in 1997 of two murders in Madison County, awaits her.
Sitting across from each other the two have a conversation, as friends do. Even after more than two decades, Sayward is sometimes surprised by what she’s doing and by how she came to what she describes as a journey of faith.
Growing up poor in Buffalo, New York, Sayward would have never imagined as a kid that she would one day befriend a convicted murderer. She lived in public housing for a time and later the family of four, including her younger brother, moved to a trailer park, from which they were eventually evicted.
“The rules were, you were only allowed to do laundry once a week—and since my mom had two infants—we were evicted because mom did laundry more than once a week.”
Afterward, her parents bought the cheapest land they could find on Murphy Road in Lockport, New York, and still live there, said Sayward.
Despite her family’s economic situation, the college professor who has taught at MTSU for 25 years has fond memories of her childhood. She has always had a yearning for education, she said.
“I remember I was 6 years old. I was wearing a Winnie the Pooh gown, getting dressed in the bathroom to go to school, when my mother knocked on the door and asked what I was doing,” she said.
Her mother told her she wouldn’t be going to school. It was Saturday.
“I was so sad, and since that day I have been in school continuously all of my life,” Sayward said.
She attended grades K-12 at Star Point Central School located in Lockport, and graduated in 1987. She received an undergraduate degree in history from St. Bonaventure University where she was a Presidential Scholar, earned a four-year academic scholarship and was active in intramural sports.
She later obtained masters and doctoral degrees in history from Ohio State.
Sayward had no intention of befriending a death row inmate—initially. She began thinking about the death penalty in April of 1995, after receiving a phone call from her mother that would ultimately change the trajectory of her life.
Star Point Central School graduate of 1986, Timothy McVeigh was arrested for the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City— killing 186 people, 19 whom of which were children.
“He and his accomplice Terry Nichols built a bomb out of fertilizer. I don’t understand the chemistry, but nitrogen and the fertilizer are what was used for the explosives.
I was in graduate school at Ohio State when it happened. I got home from teaching or classes or whatever I was doing that day, and my mom called me,” said the history professor.
“It was Tim McVeigh. You know. The one who lived about a mile from here,” her mother stated.
”People on death row are just like me–they go to the same school, the same church, and they live in the same community.”
-Amy Sayward
Sayward stood in silence after realizing the accused suspect was her grade school classmate.
Ironically, McVeigh was voted most friendly of his senior class and always had a smile for everyone, according to the professor.
“He graduated in ‘86. I didn’t see him or know anything about him in the subsequent years. I was working on my Ph.D. dissertation. He went on to be tried and sentenced to death—not because of the number of lives that were lost—[but] because there were federal officers who had also died in the bombing. That is when I started paying attention to the death penalty,” said Sayward.
Following the sentencing of McVeigh, Sayward attended a lecture by Sister Helen Prejean, author of “Dead Man Walking,” the nun’s first-person story of her friendship with a man on death row in Louisiana.
“I was captivated, stunned, awed. I was hanging on to her every word. I couldn’t imagine why someone would decide to involve themselves in the life of a person whose death had been scheduled by the state,” she said.
The historian became interested in visiting death row inmates– but resisted the urge.
“I thought to myself: why would I invest time, energy and resources in someone who had a chance of being executed by the state? It seemed counterintuitive. Most of my time and energy goes towards investing in the future,” she said.
1998 was a transformative year for the licensed educator. After receiving her Ph.D., she applied for 36 academic positions across the nation, and relocated to Tennessee, after she was offered a job at Middle Tennessee State University.
“I feel tremendously fortunate for being offered this position. I went straight into a tenure track contract,” she said.
The same year was also an election year. Republican Gov. Don Sunquist was running for reelection. Sayward said she was disturbed that part of his campaign platform was ‘if you elect me, I will start executing people.’
“I had never heard someone run for public office with his attitude,” she said.
Democrat Tommy Burks of Monterey was seeking re-election to the state Senate in the same year. His opponent was Byron “Low Tax” Looper. Looper killed Burks a week before the state senate election. State law did not allow a dead man’s name to appear on the ballot.
Looper’s name was the only one on the ballot. In the end, Tommy’s widow, Charlotte, was elected to his seat in a rare instance of a write-in candidate winning the election.
“That was my introduction to Tennessee politics,” said Sayward.
Sayward contacted Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing and became a member, around the time Robert Glen Coe—a man found guilty of rape and murder—was executed.
“It became apparent in the coverage leading up to (Coe’s trial) that TCASK opposed execution,” said Sayward.
Still, she was unsure about visiting an inmate on death row.
“I attended Bible study at a friend’s house. The reading for that evening was Abraham and Isaac. The teacher asked, “what leap of faith is God calling you to that you are resisting,” she said.
Sayward admitted aloud that God was calling her to visit death row.
Mike Allocco—a Bible study student—offered to drive her to Visitors on Death Row Orientation—a meeting conducted by the prison to inform new visitors of prison procedures.
“It was the sense of pieces of a puzzle fitting together,” she said.
After their drive, Mike Allocco was transferred to a different job in a different city– the two of them never saw each other again.
“Mike was the right guy—in the right place– to move me from intention to action,” said the professor.
Sayward, whose first name means friend in French, is very fond of Morris—despite his past mistakes.
According to Sayward, she and Morris corresponded via letters for two to three months before meeting in person.
“The day we met; he extended his arm to shake my hand. I told him: I’m happy to shake your hand, but I’d rather give you a hug,” said Sayward.
Most days when the professor visits Morris they participate in activities such as discussing the latest news coverage and crossword puzzles.
“We make a great team. He tends to know all the “crossword” words, and I help out with computer and popular culture references… It’s always a highlight when we get a 100,” said Sayward.
The companions also discuss family. Morris is still in touch with his nieces and his sister– adult children and grandchildren, and speaks about them frequently, according to Sayward.
After about a decade of visiting Morris, Sayward’s parents began visiting him, too.
“Farris and Mom talk about religion, as she worked for the church. Daddy and Farris talk about cars, a mutual shared interest,” said Sayward.
Prior to January 2020, Sayward brought a bag of chicken wings for Morris to eat during their visit. As a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, prison visitation hours were cut down from four hours to two hours. Morris now has enough time to drink a soda while conversing with Sayward.
“I usually drink Mountain Dew and he drinks Root Beer. Root Beer has been his favorite ever since they took the grape Nehi out of the vending machine,” said Sayward.
One of Morris’ favorite hobbies is painting. He confided in Sayward that he had learned to paint on death row by watching Bob Ross on PBS. Sayward picks up his paintings from the prison, takes photos of them for him to keep, and mails them to their recipients.
“He puts so much time and attention into them… He told me that after he got to death row, he wanted to leave a legacy of beauty in place of the legacy he’d already created of death and loss. He hoped to get at least 100 painted before he was executed, but he’s now on 136,” said Sayward.
The MTSU history professor often has a busy schedule, but always makes time to visit Morris.
“I know it’s important to him to have contact with the outside world and someone he can talk with. I also know that human touch is very important to our physical and psychological well-being… So, I always give him a hug when I see him and before I leave,” said the professor.
Morris will spend the remainder of his life in prison for his crimes. When the state will execute him is unclear. Sayward is an advocate against the Tennessee Death Penalty, and an editor of “Tennessee’s New Abolitionists: The Fight to End the Death Penalty in the Volunteer State,” said she will continue to visit as long as she can.
Kalea Jackson is a contributing writer for MTSU Sidelines.
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