Story
Oct 21, 2026
Florida’s 18th Execution Exposes the Divide Between Justice and Closure
Florida executed 77-year-old William Reaves for killing a sheriff’s deputy in 1986, intensifying debate over Ron DeSantis’s accelerating use of the death penalty and the case’s unresolved questions about PTSD and fairness.
Florida’s execution of 77-year-old William Reaves has become a test of what the state’s death-penalty campaign is meant to deliver: justice for victims’ families, or closure shaped by an increasingly relentless execution schedule.
Reaves was pronounced dead Tuesday evening at Florida State Prison after a three-drug lethal injection. He had been convicted of killing Indian River County sheriff’s deputy Richard Raczkoski, whom investigators said he shot four times while the deputy tried to flee a 1986 confrontation. His conviction was overturned once because of a prosecutorial conflict, but he was convicted again and sentenced to death in 1992. The U.S. Supreme Court rejected his final appeal without comment.1
The conservative account emphasizes the crime, the lengthy appeals process and the victims’ wait. Marc Raczkoski said his brother had finally received justice, while Gov. Ron DeSantis has defended Florida’s accelerated execution pace as a response to families who have waited decades. Yet Indian River County Sheriff Eric Flowers drew a sharper distinction, saying the execution represented “closure rather than justice” and arguing, “That’s not justice in any way, in my opinion.”1
The liberal framing puts the execution in a broader institutional context. Florida has carried out 18 executions this year—more than half of the U.S. total—and is approaching last year’s state record of 19. Reaves was also the eighth Florida prisoner over 70 executed this year, highlighting concerns about an aging death row and the finality of punishment decades after a crime.2
Defense attorneys and more than 100 military veterans urged DeSantis to intervene, citing Reaves’ Vietnam-era service and a Veterans Affairs determination that he was fully disabled by PTSD. They also challenged Florida’s three-drug protocol. Those arguments failed in court, leaving the state’s central message intact: time may temper a sentence, but it will not necessarily stop it.