Lewis Williams

The condemned man, struggled and yelled out,"please God, help me".

He had to be carried into the execution chamber by six guards before being put to death on Wednesday for the 1983 murder of an elderly woman, prison officials said. Lewis Williams Jr., was given a lethal injection at 10:15 a.m. EST at the prison in Lucasville, Ohio, for killing Leoma Chmielewski, 76.

"Please God, help me. God, please help. Please hear my cry," Williams shouted as he was strapped onto a gurney to receive the lethal injection, prison spokeswoman Andrew Dean said.

His mother, Bonnie Williams, witnessed her son's struggle and was taken out in a wheelchair afterward.

Throughout his two decades on death row, Williams claimed innocence, arguing prosecutors used trumped-up evidence and coerced witnesses, including testimony from two inmates who testified he confessed while in jail awaiting trial.

The execution team had to forcibly lift Lewis Williams from his knees and pry his hand off the edge of a table next door to the death chamber.

It was the first time in nine executions since the state resumed the practice in 1999 that an inmate has struggled with guards. Williams was the first Ohio inmate executed after a claim of mental retardation was rejected.

The execution process, the first that allowed witnesses to see the shunts placed in a condemned inmates' arms, left witnesses shaken.

"It was an awful thing to watch," said Stephen Ferrell, an assistant state public defender.

Reginald Wilkinson, Ohio's prisons director, called it disturbing and traumatic. "It was probably as traumatic as anything our staff has gone through," he said.

Williams' peaceful mood while reading the Bible and talking with his lawyer in the hours before his death disappeared when the execution process began at 9:51 a.m.

Williams, 45, professed his innocence even as he was carried into the death chamber by four guards.

"I'm not guilty. I'm not guilty. God, please help me," Williams said as he was strapped to the execution table. The diminutive Williams was 5 foot 3 inches tall and weighed 117 pounds, according to prison officials. Williams continued to cry out as his mother, Bonnie Williams, 66, of Columbus, sobbed in a room separated by windows from the death chamber.

He kept pleading even in his final official statement, given at 10:07 a.m. "God, please help me. God, please hear my cry," Williams said.

It took several members of the execution team to carry a struggling Williams into the preparation room, as seen on two monitors in the witness room next to the death chamber. At least nine guards had to restrain Williams at various points as they prepared his arms and inserted needles.

Williams repeatedly shook his head and tried to lift himself off the preparation bed. He yelled several times, then would rest his head and speak quietly, appearing to whisper at points and chant at other points.

One guard standing at his head alternately restrained him and patted his right shoulder to comfort him.

Williams' yells continued after warden James Haviland pulled the microphone away. Williams continued yelling until 10:08 a.m. when he abruptly stopped speaking. His chest rose and fell a couple times.

He was declared dead at 10:15 a.m.

Discussing Williams's extraordinary behavior, Andrea Dean is blunt.

"Is this one more traumatic than the others? Let me answer that for you: This inmate did not assault our staff. He wasn't fighting. He wasn't being combative with the staff. What took place last Wednesday: Inmate Williams was fighting to stay alive," Dean said.

"He was actually acting like a 5-year-old might act when they're getting a shot," she said. "But he wasn't trying to hit anyone. He was just trying not to die."

"No inmate has ever reacted like that before. The other inmates walked into the execution chamber."

"It didn't leave me mentally disturbed or anguished," she said. "What affected me was watching his mother have to observe him acting that way. I think that's what bothered a lot of us, because we had to not only look at him trying not to die, but we were in there with his mother."

Witnessing an execution is part of her day at the office, even when the killer goes to his death screaming his innocence.

"Do I need a mental health day?" Dean said. "No."

"Was the execution traumatic? No. Was this one different? Yes."

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