PAGE ONE -- `Freeway Killer' Put to Death / Bonin loses last-ditch appeals

Condemned serial killer William George Bonin was executed early today in San Quentin's death chamber, becoming the first inmate in California history to die by lethal injection.

Bonin, 49, was pronounced dead at 12:13 a.m., four minutes after a massive solution of sodium Pentothal, followed by 50 cubic centimeters each of pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride flowed into his veins, paralyzing his diaphragm and his heart.

He appeared to be asleep from the moment the curtain opened to the witnesses until he was pronounced dead. His chest heaved twice and then twitched once before his body lay still. Bonin's face gradually darkened to a deep blue.

Bonin was the third death row inmate to be executed in the state since capital punishment was reinstated in 1977. He received his death sentence for the brutal murders of 14 teenage boys in Southern California.

The crowded room of witnesses, including many relatives of his victims, stood rigid and intent throughout the process. Barbara Biehn, mother of one of the young victims, heaved sighs throughout the execution as she stood holding three pictures of her dead son.

Another mother, Sandra Miller, pumped her fist and whispered "yes" as a guard announced Bonin's death.

In his final words, Bonin said to Warden Arthur Calderon at 11:30 p.m.: "I feel that the death penalty is not an answer to the problems at hand. I feel it sends the wrong message to the young of the country. Young people act as they see other people acting, instead of as people telling them to act.

"I would suggest that when a person has a thought of doing anything serious against the law, that before they did, they should go to a quiet place and think about it seriously."

His execution came after his attorneys waged an unsuccessful 11th-hour legal bid to save his life. As the evening wore on, his hope of winning a postponement of his punishment faded as one court after another swiftly dismissed his appeals to stop the process.

The Downey truck driver and Vietnam War veteran waged a reign of terror in 1979 and 1980. During a yearlong rampage, he brutally beat, sexually assaulted and then strangled 14 young victims. He was named the "Freeway Killer" because his victims' nude bodies were dumped near freeways and on deserted roads, alleys and gas stations.

The 50 witnesses included more than a dozen relatives of the young victims. Governor Wilson was not present, awaiting the news at his home in Sacramento.

In a statement early today, the governor said: "Today, justice has finally been done. I hope and pray that the families and loved ones of Bonin's victims may finally find some peace."

Shortly before the execution, Bonin received a new pair of denim trousers and a blue shirt. He was then led from the "death watch" cell, where he had spent the evening waiting, and escorted into the bright green chamber. He was strapped onto a padded table and hooked to a heart monitor.

A medically trained team, whose members' identities were kept confidential, was involved in the process of inserting a needle into each of his arms and taping them in place.

Saline solution slowly began to flow into the veins, the door was closed and the execution order was given.

Bonin's execution came 14 years after he was sentenced to death for the murders of 10 teenage boys in Los Angeles. He received the same sentence the following year for four more murders in Orange County.

Although he was convicted of 14 murders, investigators believe that he was responsible for at least seven additional sex killings.

"I think I've accepted the fact that this may come about and I've made my peace with it, and if it happens, it happens," Bonin told KQED-FM radio reporter Jason Beaubien in an interview Wednesday evening. "As far as how I'm going to feel at that very moment, I can't answer that question.

"I don't know. I don't think any of us would know until we're there."

Bonin spent his last day quietly visiting with close friends, according to prison spokeswoman Joy Macfarlane. "He was relaxed and enjoying their company," she said.

She said Bonin's main concern was making sure that his five chosen witnesses, who were not named, could get back in time to watch his execution. He also wanted to know that his artwork would be sent to the right people after his death.

At the prison, which had been in lockdown since midnight Wednesday, there appeared to be an "air of quiet acceptance" about the execution, Macfarlane said.

After visiting with friends, Bonin at 6 p.m. was moved to the overnight "death watch" cell, a few feet from the execution chamber. While under constant surveillance, he was served his last meal -- two large sausage-and-pepperoni pizzas, three pints of coffee ice cream and three six-packs of Coca Cola. He passed the time making ice cream floats and watching the television game show "Jeopardy," according to Macfarlane.

He appeared calm and composed, chatting with prison staff, receiving last-minute mail. At one point he met privately with a Catholic priest.

Meanwhile, the deputy state public defenders who fought for Bonin's life were filing one appeal after another to find a court that would spare his life. They made a plea before the U.S. Court of Appeals in San Francisco yesterday morning. Within a few hours, however, the three-judge panel denied the appeal, refusing to spare Bonin.

Bonin's attorneys held out hope that the full 24-member appellate court, which represented the inmate's best chance of a reprieve, would grant a stay of execution. By 6 p.m., a majority of the court voted not to intervene.

The attorneys filed yet another 11th-hour appeal in the U.S. Supreme Court, but again the court refused to block the execution.

At each step, state prosecutors successfully argued that by the time the U.S. Supreme Court rejected his appeal on January 8, Bonin had exhausted his legal options in both state and federal courts.

Bonin, in his interview Wednesday evening, said he did not believe that his death would bring the victims' families the relief many are seeking.

"I feel that these people feel that I'm guilty and they feel that when I'm executed it's going to put a closure to them," he said. "But that's not the case. They're going to find that out."

According to KQED-FM reporter Beaubien, Bonin told him that he last visited with his mother and two brothers a couple of weeks ago. The condemned man said he was especially concerned that his mother not witness his execution.

"No matter whether you're losing a family member to cancer or to a murder, it has to be devastating to a person," Bonin said.