McVeigh Called Model Prisoner

In his own time the worst terrorist in America, Timothy J. McVeigh went to his death as a model prisoner, stoic and uncommonly well-behaved, a man who in the end presented a “pleasant demeanor” and a “bright wit,” according to his prison records.

Put to death on June 11, he had come to symbolize all that was evil at that time--his execution coming exactly three months before the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were struck by a different brand of terrorist.

But while 19 hijackers died instantly in their four airplanes, McVeigh--an Army soldier from western New York who became the Oklahoma City bomber--spent more than six years behind bars. They were years of maximum security and around-the-clock surveillance, most of it spent on federal death row.

Yet a review Wednesday of his prison and medical records shows that he rarely committed even the slightest of prison infractions or challenged the federal Bureau of Prison’s rules and regulations. His bed was always neatly made, his cell tidy, his attitude upbeat.

His beefs were trivial. He was irritated over not getting immediate care for a chipped tooth. He did not like to be bothered while watching a war movie on the television in his cell. He was written up for trying to mail harmless items to his friends.

Indeed, the 2,000 pages of records obtained by The Times show that McVeigh died with the utmost cooperation, outwardly enjoying the worldwide attention his execution received, the federal government’s first in almost 40 years.

Although he showed no remorse for killing 168 people in the federal building in Oklahoma City, he was collegial with the government that restricted his every move.

On May 18, just days after his first execution date was set aside, there is this notation in a psychiatric evaluation of prisoner No. 12076-064: “Mr. McVeigh remains stable emotionally. He does not suffer from a major mental health disorder or defect . . . McVeigh maintains a pleasant demeanor, exercises his bright wit, and participates in his legal activities. He spends his time watching TV, reading his correspondence and writing letters.”

McVeigh was arrested on April 21, 1995, two days after the explosion at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. He came to prison with an attitude, refusing to answer basic questions--where was his last job, did he speak any foreign languages?

For two years, he was kept in special units in federal prisons in Oklahoma and Colorado that housed already-convicted inmates. But because he had not yet been tried, he was granted special perks: cable TV in his cell; expanded commissary privileges, where he specifically asked for and received Chapstick; and a trip to the prison yard or gym for an hour each day.

He was convicted in June 1997 and two months later was sentenced to die. “He has just returned after hearing the verdict of a death sentence yesterday,” his records note. “He is taking the verdict and sentence remarkably well and is not depressed.”

He was sent to “Supermax” in Florence, Colo., the country’s most secure prison. In two years there he committed but one infraction, for refusing to stand up during a head count. “He just looked at us and laughed,” a prison official wrote.

Another time McVeigh complained that he did not get enough sunlight; he called it “light deprivation.” Otherwise, records note, “things are reportedly going very well.” In May 1998, he received a certificate for completing an in-cell video study course called “Earth Revealed.”

His prison bank account averaged around $255 and he made good on a $550 court-imposed fine. His property inventory was stocked with cookies, instant cereal, Q-Tips and sweatpants.

His medical needs were minimal, his most common complaint an upset stomach. “I always get this problem in the morning, specially and whenever I’m having a discussion with my lawyer,” he told the prison staff.

He was inundated with requests for media interviews and turned down all but a few. Relatives of his victims wrote asking to see him in prison, hoping to hear him say he was sorry. He refused.

A woman wrote that “you are my greatest role model.” She wanted to break him out of prison, make love to him, and then together they would kill President Clinton.

“I can’t wait to be with you,” she wrote. “I will see you soon!”

Some of the publications he requested never made it. The prison returned a “Guns ’98 Buyers Guide” and a copy of “The Rational Feminist.”

In July 1999 he was sent to Terre Haute, Ind., the prison system’s “Death House.”

Last October, he tried to mail out 10 Almond Joy bars, 10 Tootsie Rolls and a bag of Now and Later candy. Another time he tried to mail a Jedi action figure.

Thirteen days before he died, he tried to mail a blackberry fruit snack, a homemade necklace, a rosary bead and a “homemade ribbon, military style.” The next day he tried again to send out the necklace.

Even as death shadowed him, his prison records were filled with descriptions of a man content with life.

Feb. 10, 1998: “He was cheerful and cooperative. . . . The inmate still displays no remorse for his actions, nor does he spontaneously discuss the matter.”

June 6, 1998: “He was not interested in talking. He was in the middle of watching a war movie on television and conveyed the sense that he did not want to be interrupted.”

Last December, he dropped his legal appeals. “McVeigh was in good spirits. His head was full of thoughts related to yesterday’s hearing. . . . He is bright, articulate, humorous and has an excellent memory. . . .

“Mr. McVeigh was interested in watching ‘Private Ryan’ and found it ironic that because it was rated R, it couldn’t be shown to the inmates. He thought that they might eventually get a sanitized version.”

By February he was telling psychologists he hoped his mother would not visit. “He described her as a schizophrenic.” She did not come.

“He continues to present [himself] as composed, calm, in control, as though he has thought everything out very carefully.”

He was eager for the publication of what he called his “biography,” written by two Buffalo News reporters. By March he was gleeful about TV specials the two reporters were doing for the book.

Another day he was in his cell “eating cucumbers” and “he thought he might hear from the school kids [in Terre Haute] thanking him for school being dismissed on the scheduled date of his execution.”

By mid-April he had his “property packed.” He was ready for the trip to a new cell in preparation for the execution. “He remains in good spirits with a keen sense of humor.”

And so he stayed until the morning of June 11, when Warden Harley G. Lappin, having officiated at the execution, announced that Timothy James McVeigh had “cooperated entirely.”