STARKE, Fla. -- In 1990, Local 10 reporter Jeff Weinsier lived in Gainesville in Casablanca West, a mile from all the victims. Even though he was working on the story, he remembers that the fear he felt was as real as the terror felt by University of Florida students who wondered who would be the next to die. Weinsier still has the .38 special he bought for protection from Sapp's Pawnshop in the college town.

Wednesday, Weinsier was the only South Florida reporter chosen to witness the execution of Danny Rolling, the Gainesville serial killer.

Now, he is sharing his first-person account of execution day.

Part One: Execution Day

Across from the Florida State Prison, the direction was to meet at 4:50 p.m. at the press tent. No cell phones, pagers, no paper and pen. I arrived at that tent five minutes before the two Department of Corrections vans pulled up. Several prison guards and men who looked like Secret Service agents met us. One by one, our names were called, 12 members of the media, all of us volunteering for this assignment.

I showed the guard my identification, signed at the dotted line next to my name and boarded the white Department of Corrections van.

The ride into the prison was short. A van full of journalists. Silent. The entrance of the Florida State Prison was lined with guards.

We went through two huge security gates just to get to the main entrance of the prison. There was a huge knot in my stomach. I mean, this is the place Florida’s worst live. We had to show our identification again at the entrance, then go through a metal detector.

The twelve of us were escorted to the inmate visiting park. The room was freezing. There were bathrooms, vending machines and metal picnic tables.

We were each handed an envelope, inside: a legal pad and two pencils.

It was 5 p.m. We had the chance to ask the Department of Corrections some questions. What will happen to Rolling’s body? His possessions? We were told his body would be taken to the Alachua County Medical Examiner's Office for an autopsy, and his television set and personal hygiene items would be claimed by his brother Kevin.

At 5:29 p.m. it was time to head to the witness chamber.

The twelve of us were escorted out of the inmate visiting park, down the sterile, very clean halls of the Florida State Prison. The place was silent. The prison was on lockdown, all 1,300 inmates in their cells. We were told that all the inmates knew Danny Rolling was going to be executed. We walked toward the rear of the main building, stopping often to pass through the huge metal bars that restrict access to parts of the building.

We exited the building and walked towards two vans that were waiting to take us to north side of the prison.

As we walked, I heard an inmate, scream out, “All you all are murders.” It was creepy.

As we drove, we passed a softball field surrounded by rows and rows of razor wire.

These murderers and rapists play ball?

The ride lasted a minute. As we approached the building that houses the execution chamber, I could see a white Cadillac hearse waiting.

We entered the witness chamber at 5:36 p.m. The family members were already seated in the first three rows. They didn’t look back as we entered. It was a small room. A row of chairs was added to accommodate all the witnesses. There were five rows of nine chairs. I could see Ada and Jim Larson sitting in the front, and Rickie Paules also had a front row seat. Dianna Hoyt was seated in the second row. Laura Paules Lahey, Scott Paules and George Paules were all sitting in the third row.

From 5:36 p.m. to 5:59 p.m., 45 of us sat there, staring at the brown curtain that was pulled closed.

The room was silent. The only noise was coming from an air conditioning unit mounted in the wall.

What could these family members be thinking now?

I could see their faces in the refection of the window that separates the execution chamber from the witness chamber.

Most of them were stone-faced. I could see the pain on Ada Larson’s face. At 5:59 p.m., the brown curtain was pulled opened.

Part Two: The Execution

The brown curtain opened and there he was, strapped to a gurney, a white sheet covering his body from the neck down. There was even a strap across his forehead. Danny Rolling was looking up, at the ceiling.

The room remained silent. My heart was pounding. This was it. There is so much to look at: the family members, the warden inside the execution chamber, Danny’s face. I had to keep an eye on that white sheet, to see it move up and down, to watch his every breath.

There was a big digital clock on the wall over Danny’s head. It was 5:59 p.m.

The microphone inside the execution chamber was turned on, we could now hear what was going on.

"Danny Rolling, do you have a final statement?" "Yes sir." Rolling turned his head toward us. He looked at Rickie Paules, who was in the front row.

Rolling then looked to the ceiling again, closed his eyes and began to sing.

"He who created the stars, the heavens above, created the oceans, the mountains, eagles and doves. None greater than thee, oh lord none greater than thee."

I began writing as fast as I could to keep up with Rolling’s tune. As I glanced over to the right, I could see George Paules shake his head. It appeared Dianna Hoyt rolled her eyes.

Rolling continued to sing for two minutes.

“He who formed me out of the dust of the earth, breathe into my heart for all that its worth. None greater than thee, oh lord, none greater than thee.”

“Angels bow before you and fold their wings, lift up your voice and praise the king of kings. None greater than thee, oh lord, none greater than thee.”

“Thou art the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, the sound of thy voice still a mighty wind. None greater than thee, oh lord, none greater than thee.”

Rolling’s song stopped, the microphone into the witness chamber was turned off. The witness chamber remained silent.

Did I really just hear that? There were clearly two words missing in Danny Rolling’s final statement … I’M SORRY …but would it have really mattered?

At 6:03 p.m. the process began. A chemical cocktail would put Danny Rolling to sleep forever. We couldn’t see what was being injected into the I.V. because the execution team was behind another brown curtain in the execution chamber.

Danny’s lips continued to move. I think he was still trying to sing, but the microphone was turned off. A well-dressed man stood at the foot of the gurney, on the phone with the governor’s office. A prison guard held Rolling’s head.

Rolling’s mouth stopped moving. After a few minutes you could see the color of his face beginning to change, his right cheek was getting heavy. Danny Rolling was getting whiter and whiter. The witness chamber remained silent.

We all watched, minute after minute, after minute.

At 6:11 Danny Rolling took his last breath. I’d say his face was a gray color, his mouth slightly opened.

One member of the execution team came out from behind the brown curtain. He was wearing what looked like a chemical suit. We couldn’t see his body or his face. It actually could have been a woman.

That person placed a stethoscope under the white sheet onto Rolling’s heart. He or she then went back behind the curtain. A second person, wearing the same kind of suit, came out from behind the curtain. He or she did the same thing, placed a stethoscope to Rolling’s heart.

At 6:13 p.m., the microphone came on again. Danny Rolling was officially pronounced dead. The brown curtain closed. The place remained silent. Not a peep.

Those family members are the strongest people I have ever seen. I would have screamed at him, cursed him out, smashed through the glass and choked him. But Danny would have loved the attention.

The family members were escorted out of the witness chamber first. Members of the media remained behind to chat about what we just saw and heard.

Danny Rolling’s final performance was sick. No remorse. No apology. No heart.

However, the best part of the performance was the state’s grand finale.

Weinsier's Previous Story: The Day Before Death