Sparks of Remorse

The sun dipped low over the Cumberland River, the haze of late summer thickening the Nashville air as darkness crept across the grounds of Riverbend Maximum Security Institution. It was Thursday, 7:00 PM. Inside, the atmosphere was still, clinical, and tense. The hum of fluorescent lights echoed down the long corridor that led to a small chamber few ever saw—and fewer still left.

Behind a locked door, seated in a worn chair bolted to the floor, was Christa Gail Pike.

She was 49 years old, but time had done strange things to her face. The woman who once grinned as she bragged about murder now looked pale and drawn, a tremble in her fingers, a glassiness in her stare. It had been over 30 years since the night she lured 19-year-old Colleen Slemmer into a trap, spurred by a jealous rage so deep it cracked reality. And tonight, after a maze of appeals and delays, the state of Tennessee would end her life for it.

The Crime That Shook Knoxville

On January 12, 1995, Christa Pike, then just 18, along with her boyfriend Tadaryl Shipp and friend Shadolla Peterson, took Colleen Slemmer into a wooded area behind an abandoned steam plant near the University of Tennessee campus. The pretense? To smooth over tension and share marijuana. The reality? A vicious plan born from obsession and insecurity.

What followed was a half-hour of brutal torment. Pike taunted, beat, and slashed Slemmer. She carved a pentagram into her chest. She mocked the girl as she begged for mercy. Then, with a chunk of asphalt, Pike crushed her skull. As Slemmer’s lifeblood seeped into the earth, Pike pocketed a fragment of her skull—a keepsake.

It wasn’t long before she was showing it off to classmates.

A Courtroom and a Chair

The evidence was damning: a confession, a timeline, the gruesome trophy in her coat pocket. On March 22, 1996, a jury found her guilty of first-degree murder and conspiracy. Days later, she was sentenced to die by electrocution.

Though Shipp also faced charges, his youth earned him parole eligibility in middle age. Peterson, who turned state's witness, served probation. But Pike, unrepentant in early interviews and disturbingly casual in her recounting of events, was to be the youngest woman sentenced to death in the U.S. at the time.

Over the years, her demeanor shifted. She became quieter. Her appeals mounted, citing mental illness, childhood trauma, and the impulsivity of youth. Yet every attempt fell short. The Tennessee Supreme Court ruled she had no constitutional protection from her adult sentence. Even a new precedent for juvenile offenders in 2022 (State v. Booker) failed to save her—she was already 18 at the time of the crime.

The clock had run out.

The Final Hours

The prison was quiet on August 1, 2025. Her cell, just a few paces from the execution chamber, had been stripped bare. She wore a white cotton gown, her long brown hair brushed and pulled back neatly. At 5:30 PM, she was offered her last meal—fried chicken, cornbread, green beans, and a Coca-Cola. She ate little of it.

At 6:45 PM, a chaplain entered. They spoke briefly. She clutched a worn Bible and stared into the distance as the voices of victims' advocates echoed down the hallway. Colleen Slemmer’s mother, Vicki, had arrived hours earlier. She would watch the proceedings behind the thick observation glass.

At precisely 7:10 PM, the heavy door creaked open. Two officers entered, flanking her. Christa rose. Her legs trembled, but she did not fall. Her hands were shackled in front of her, her gaze low but dry-eyed.

She did not resist as they escorted her down the short hallway to the chamber.

The Chamber at Riverbend

The electric chair used in Tennessee is a wooden throne of straps, leather, and brutal history. A brown leather helmet lined with a saline-soaked sponge is placed on the head. Electrodes are attached to the body—one at the leg, the other atop the skull.

She was seated, and the process began.

Warden Mitchell recited the procedure:

“Christa Gail Pike, your sentence of death by electrocution is to be carried out at this time in accordance with the laws of the state of Tennessee.”

Her wrists were affixed to the armrests, ankles buckled into the stocks. Her waist was strapped tightly, and a final strap crossed over her chest.

Two technicians stepped forward with gloved hands. One pressed the sponge into the copper disk inside the helmet. The other fastened the helmet itself—tight, heavy, enclosing her head like a leather vise.

The leg electrode was secured. Wires ran along the side of the chair to a control panel just behind a steel curtain.

Final Statement

At 7:15 PM, the curtain lifted.

Christa looked toward the witnesses—her eyes found Slemmer’s mother, and for the first time in decades, something cracked.

The Warden asked, “Do you have any last words?”

She cleared her throat. Her voice was soft but clear:

"I'm sorry for what I did. Please forgive me."

Then she closed her eyes.

The black leather veil was lowered over her face, concealing her from view. She became a silhouette in the chair.

A light turned red.

The Execution

At 7:19 PM, the execution began.

The first jolt surged through her body—high voltage, 20 seconds. Her body stiffened, muscles contracting violently against the restraints. A thin plume of smoke curled from the helmet.

Then, 20 seconds of silence.

A second jolt: again 20 seconds. The smell of scorched fabric and flesh filled the air. Her chest no longer heaved.

A final jolt. Another 20 seconds. Then stillness.

A physician stepped forward. With a nod from the warden, the helmet was removed. Her face was red, marked with burns, but peaceful.

At 7:26 PM, Christa Gail Pike was pronounced dead.

Aftermath

For the Slemmer family, justice had been delayed but not denied. Vicki Slemmer, tears streaking her cheeks, told reporters:

“It doesn't bring Colleen back, but maybe now... maybe now, she can rest.”

The piece of skull still remains in state evidence, a macabre relic of a senseless act. Prosecutors say it will be returned to the Slemmer family now that the appeals are truly over.

For decades, Pike’s name was a symbol of teen violence gone unchecked, of unchecked obsession and cruelty among the young. Now, her name joins the sparse list of women executed in the modern era of American capital punishment.

And Tennessee’s electric chair—its cables, its sponge, its veil—returns to quiet storage, waiting once more.

Until it is summoned again.