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Years ago I was a lawyer for William Reaves, who will soon be put to death in Florida. He gunned down a police officer in 1986. William is a murderer. He is also a war veteran with combat PTSD and polysubstance use disorder who, on the night of the crime, did only what training and trauma dictated. I got to know him well and care for him as a friend. For years I have wondered what it means to hold all of those clashing truths in my mind at once. As his execution approaches, I’m no closer to understanding.

There are two stories of William’s life. In the prevailing narrative, he’s a monster who shot a good cop as the man begged for his life. In the untold story, he’s a victim of circumstance—a sweet kid from a small town who was sent to war, trained to kill in the service of his country, and returned home a psychological ruin. Both stories are true. Only the first has been given moral weight in popular memory. The second—the tale of William the war hero—explains his crime. That story should be heard before it comes to an end on Oct. 20 at 6 p.m. Eastern. That is when William will die by lethal injection.

The story most people know unfolded late at night in a Zippy Mart parking lot. William was deep in a cocaine bender, a gun tucked in the waistband of his sweatpants. Unsure how to get home, he had the bright idea to call 911 from a pay phone and ask for a cab. The dispatcher sent Deputy Richard Raczkoski instead. By all accounts, Raczkoski was a good man and a good cop. On that night he was both. He did not arrest William or chase him off. He called for a ride and waited to make sure William got home safely. Everything would have been fine but for a banal twist of fate. As they waited, the gun slipped from William’s waistband and clattered to the pavement. The mishap would have been comical had it not led to Raczkoski’s death and, later this month, William’s. Both men saw the loose weapon. Both lunged for it. William got there first. Raczkoski pleaded for William not to kill him and turned to run, but William shot him four times in the back.

When Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed the death warrant setting the execution date, he had this story, and it alone, in mind. So did the law enforcement officers who urged DeSantis to choose William for execution from more than 200 inmates on Florida’s death row. So do news outlets that affix the “cop killer” epithet to William in headlines. For most people, the story of William’s crime feels compatible with a state-run ritual to poison him to death. The other true story of his life may not.

William grew up in the small community of Gifford, Florida, where folks thought he might become a pastor. He helped out at church and around the neighborhood. Family and friends remember him as a good kid, gentle and kind—not a monster in the making. The man who killed Raczkoski emerged only after circumstances radically altered the course of his........

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