Kevin Ray Underwood was executed by lethal injection on his 45th birthday, December 19, 2024, at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary, bringing an end to an 18-year legal battle for the murder of 10-year-old Jamie Rose Bolin. At exactly 10:14 a. m.

, he was pronounced dead, marking the culmination of a case that horrified the nation with its premeditated brutality and the defendant’s own chilling confession.

The execution proceeded without last-minute intervention, despite years of appeals focused on Underwood’s mental health diagnoses. The Oklahoma Pardon and Parole Board had voted unanimously against clemency earlier in December, and courts at every level rejected his arguments that his schizotypal personality disorder and Asperger syndrome made him ineligible for capital punishment under the Eighth Amendment.

Underwood’s final statement was brief and apologetic. According to witnesses, he said that scheduling his execution on his birthday, six days before Christmas, was “a needlessly cruel thing to do to my family.” He then added, “But I’m very sorry for what I did, and I wish I could take it back.”

Those were the last words he spoke before the lethal injection was administered.

The crime that sent him to death row occurred on April 12, 2006, in Purcell, Oklahoma. Jamie Rose Bolin, a 10-year-old third-grader, had just walked home from a school event. Her father, Curtis Bolin, was still at work.

Kevin Ray Underwood, then 26, lived in the same apartment complex and was a familiar face to the girl. He lured her into his unit with a simple offer to see his pet rat.

Once inside, Underwood turned on SpongeBob SquarePants for her to watch. Then he attacked her. He struck her repeatedly with a cutting board, then suffocated her.

Her body was found the next day inside a large plastic storage tub in his bedroom closet, sealed with duct tape. Underwood confessed almost immediately when officers noticed the tub during a consent search of his apartment.

What made the case uniquely horrifying was Underwood’s admission that he had planned to commit cannibalism. In a videotaped confession later played at trial, he told FBI agents, “I wanted to know what it tasted like, and just the thought of it was appealing to me.” Investigators found evidence in his apartment that he had prepared for the act, including seasonings, a meat tenderizer, and a roasting pan.

The trial in February 2008 was swift. The jury heard Underwood’s confession, saw the physical evidence, and deliberated for just 23 minutes before returning a guilty verdict on first-degree murder. One week later, they recommended the death penalty.

On April 3, 2008, McClain County District Judge Candace Blaylock formally sentenced him to death.

Over the next 18 years, Underwood’s legal team pursued every available appeal. They argued that his mental illness diminished his culpability and that executing him violated the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment. A federal judge in Oklahoma City rejected that claim, as did the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals.

The U. S. Supreme Court declined to hear the case.

Underwood’s own words during the clemency hearing revealed a man grappling with the enormity of his actions. “I recognize that although I do not want to die, I deserve to for what I did,” he told the board, weeping. “I recognize that I deserve to for what I did.

And I would like to apologize to the victim’s family, to my own family, and to everyone in that room today who had to hear the horrible details of what I did.”

His last meal, requested hours before the execution, reflected comfort food: chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, pinto beans, hot rolls, a cheeseburger with french fries and ketchup, and a cola from the prison canteen. He ate it, and then the execution protocol moved forward with clinical precision.

Jamie Rose Bolin’s family chose not to attend the execution. In a statement afterward, her aunt, Lori Pate, said, “This doesn’t bring our Jamie back, but it does allow the space in our hearts to focus on her and allow the healing process to begin.” The words were measured, not triumphant, reflecting the exhaustion of a family who had waited nearly two decades for closure.

The case of Kevin Ray Underwood remains a stark example of the intersection between mental illness and capital punishment. His defense maintained that his schizotypal personality disorder and Asperger syndrome severely impaired his judgment and impulse control. Courts acknowledged his conditions but found they did not meet the legal threshold to exempt him from the death penalty.

Underwood had kept a blog in the months before the murder, posting mundane observations about his life working at Walmart. Nothing in those posts flagged the dark fantasy he was nurturing. But investigators later learned he had spent weeks feeding a violent obsession, accumulating items he believed he would need to abduct, 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁, and consume a person.

On the day of the murder, Underwood saw Jamie walking home alone. He later admitted that he acted on his fantasy because “the opportunity presented itself.” The violence was swift, and the concealment was crude.

When police knocked on his door the next morning, he let them in. The storage tub in the closet drew immediate suspicion.

Underwood’s calm demeanor collapsed when officers moved toward the closet. “Go ahead and arrest me,” he said. “She’s in there.

Then I’m going to burn in hell.” He began hyperventilating. The transformation from cooperative neighbor to confessed killer took less than 30 seconds.

The Amber Alert issued the night before had mobilized law enforcement across the region. Curtis Bolin had returned home from work to find his daughter missing. He spent hours searching the complex, unaware that the man living just a few doors down had already taken her life.

Jamie Rose Bolin was born on August 7, 1995. She was described as a bright, energetic child who loved school and playing outside. Her father worked long hours to support them, and she often walked home alone.

That ordinary routine became the fatal vulnerability that a predator exploited.

The execution on December 19, 2024, was carried out using a single dose of pentobarbital, the standard method in Oklahoma. Underwood was strapped to a gurney in the execution chamber at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester, one of the most infamous correctional facilities in the United States.

Witnesses included representatives from the media, law enforcement, and members of the victim’s family who chose to observe remotely. The official time of death was recorded as 10:14 a. m.

The prison warden pronounced him dead after confirming no signs of life.

Underwood’s attorneys had filed a flurry of last-minute legal motions, including a request for a stay based on new evidence about his mental health. The Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals denied the request on December 18, less than 24 hours before the scheduled execution.

The legal debate over his mental state highlighted a broader national conversation about executing individuals with serious mental illness. Advocacy groups argued that Underwood’s conditions met the criteria for a reduced sentence, but prosecutors pointed to the premeditation and the confession as evidence of full culpability.

In his final interview, conducted days before the execution, Underwood told a reporter that he had blocked out most memories of the murder. He said that when fragments surfaced, they caused him great pain. “I can’t believe I did those things,” he said.

“The person I was in the weeks leading up to it was not who I had been before, and not who I am now.”

Psychologists who evaluated Underwood over the years described him as a man who lived in a world of elaborate fantasies. His schizotypal personality disorder made him prone to odd beliefs and paranoid ideation, while his Asperger syndrome impaired his ability to understand social cues and empathize with others.

But the jury at trial heard testimony that Underwood knew what he was doing was wrong and went to great lengths to conceal his crime. He purchased a storage tub, duct tape, and cleaning supplies in advance. He chose a moment when Jamie’s father was at work.

He invited her inside under false pretenses.

The murder of Jamie Rose Bolin shocked the small town of Purcell, a community of about 6,000 people south of Oklahoma City. Neighbors and schoolmates held candlelight vigils. The case became a rallying point for advocates of both stricter death penalty laws and mental health reform.

Oklahoma has one of the highest per capita execution rates in the country. The state has carried out more than 120 executions since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976. Underwood’s case was the fourth execution in Oklahoma in 2024.

The execution protocol in Oklahoma includes a review by the Department of Corrections medical staff, who ensure the inmate is healthy enough to proceed. Underwood received a physical examination the morning of the execution. No issues were reported.

The moment of death was confirmed by a physician. The body was then transported to the state medical examiner’s office for standard procedures. Under Oklahoma law, the inmate’s remains can be claimed by family.

No immediate statement was made by Underwood’s relatives.

Underwood’s execution on his birthday drew sharp criticism from death penalty opponents, who called it a form of psychological torture. “Scheduling an execution on a person’s birthday, especially during the holiday season, is a deliberate act of cruelty,” said a spokesperson for the Oklahoma Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty.

Prosecutors defended the date, noting that the courts had set the execution schedule based on the expiration of appeals. “The only cruelty in this case was what Kevin Underwood did to a 10-year-old girl,” said a representative from the McClain County District Attorney’s office.

The videotaped confession remained the cornerstone of the prosecution’s case. In it, Underwood calmly described his fantasy and his actions. He showed no emotion until the very end, when he asked if he could see his mother.

That moment of vulnerability did not sway the jury.

Jamie Rose Bolin’s father, Curtis Bolin, did not speak publicly after the execution. Family members said he had been waiting for this day for 18 years, but that no amount of justice could fill the void left by his daughter’s murder.

The story of Kevin Ray Underwood will be studied by criminologists and legal scholars for years. It raises profound questions about the nature of evil, the role of mental illness, and the limits of the justice system. For the family of Jamie Rose Bolin, those questions are academic.

They buried their daughter in 2006, and they lived with the knowledge that her killer was alive, housed in a cell, eating, sleeping, breathing. Every appeal, every delay, every headline reopened the wound. Now, with his death, they say they can finally begin to heal.

Lori Pate’s statement was carefully chosen. She did not celebrate. She did not curse.

She simply acknowledged that the legal process had run its course, and that the family could now redirect their emotional energy toward remembering Jamie, not hating her murderer.

The execution of Kevin Ray Underwood on December 19, 2024, closes a dark chapter in Oklahoma’s criminal history. But for those who knew Jamie Rose Bolin, the story will never truly end. She would be 29 years old today, a young woman with a lifetime ahead of her.

Instead, she remains forever 10, walking home from school on a warm spring afternoon, trusting a neighbor who repaid that trust with unspeakable violence. The justice system has had its say. Now, her family asks only for peace.