The air inside the Stateville Correctional Center on May 10, 1994, was thick with a kind of grim anticipation that you only find at the end of a high-profile execution. Outside the gates, people were literally tailgating—cheating death with hot dogs and "Good Riddance" signs. Inside, the man who had spent fourteen years on death row was finally facing the needle. When the warden asked him if he had anything to say, he didn't offer an apology. He didn't seek God. Honestly, what came out was pure, unadulterated venom. John Wayne Gacy’s last words were a sharp, three-word insult that summed up his career of narcissism: "Kiss my ass."
It’s a brutal way to go. No remorse, no closure for the families of the 33 young men and boys he’d slaughtered. Just a final middle finger to the state and the world.
The Execution That Almost Failed
You'd think a guy like Gacy would go out with some kind of profound statement, especially considering how much he loved to talk. Throughout his trials and his years in prison, Gacy was a chatterbox. He’d spend hours painting those eerie clowns or portraits of the Seven Dwarfs, all while spinning tall tales about how he was actually the "34th victim" of a conspiracy. But when the time actually came, the bravado was replaced by a weirdly brief moment of nastiness.
The execution itself was actually a bit of a mess. It wasn't the smooth, clinical procedure people expect. Around 12:35 a.m., the chemicals started flowing, but then things stalled. One of the lines clogged. Apparently, the drugs had solidified in the tube—basically turning into a kind of jelly that wouldn't move.
The blinds were closed so the witnesses couldn't see the technicians scrambling to fix the equipment. It took several minutes to get the flow back. While the world waited for the news of his death, Gacy was essentially stuck in a halfway state of dying. It’s sort of ironic, isn't it? A man who spent years meticulously hiding bodies in a crawl space ended up with his own body "clogging" the system.
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Why Gacy Refused to Apologize
A lot of people wonder why he chose those specific words. If you look at his behavior leading up to the end, it makes sense. Gacy never really accepted his guilt in the way a normal person would. Even when he confessed to the police, he tried to frame the murders as "self-defense" or "accidents" during "magic tricks."
By the time 1994 rolled around, he had fully leaned into his "innocent man" persona. He spent his last meal—a massive feast of 12 fried shrimp, a bucket of KFC (ironic since he used to manage KFC outlets), french fries, and a pound of strawberries—acting like a man who was being wronged.
His lawyers tried every trick in the book to stay the execution. They argued that the lethal injection was "cruel and unusual" and that Gacy was mentally unfit. None of it stuck. By the time he was strapped to the gurney, he knew the game was up. "Kiss my ass" wasn't just a reflex; it was his final attempt to stay in control of a situation where he had finally lost all power.
What Most People Get Wrong About the "Killer Clown"
There is a massive misconception that Gacy was just some deranged guy in a clown suit snatching kids off the street. That’s the movie version. The reality is way more disturbing because of how "normal" he seemed.
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- He was a politician: Gacy was a precinct captain for the local Democratic Party. He actually met First Lady Rosalynn Carter and had his picture taken with her.
- He was a business owner: PDM Contracting was a successful business. He used his status as a "job provider" to lure many of his victims, promising them high-paying construction work.
- The Clown was a hobby: He performed as "Pogo the Clown" at block parties and children's hospitals. It wasn't his primary identity, but it was the ultimate camouflage.
When he told the world to "kiss his ass," he was speaking to the people who had finally seen through the "Good Neighbor" mask. He hated that he’d been caught. He hated that he wasn't the smartest guy in the room anymore.
The Families Left Behind
While Gacy was busy being defiant, the families of his victims were seeking a peace that never really came. People like the Piest family, whose son Robert was the final victim that led to Gacy's downfall, had to live through the media circus of the execution.
For them, John Wayne Gacy’s last words weren't a shock. They knew who he was. They had spent years listening to his denials and watching his "murderabilia" paintings sell for thousands of dollars. The fact that he went out with an insult instead of a confession just confirmed what they already knew: the man was a void where a soul should have been.
A Breakdown of the Final Moments
If you're looking for the timeline of that final night, here's roughly how it went down:
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- Last Meal: 8:00 p.m. Gacy eats his KFC, shrimp, and strawberries.
- Preparation: He spends his final hours talking to his lawyers and a priest, though he refuses to "confess" in the religious sense.
- The Walk: He is led to the execution chamber at Stateville.
- The Statement: When asked for last words, he delivers the infamous "Kiss my ass."
- The Complication: The IV line clogs, causing a delay of several minutes.
- Pronouncement: He is finally pronounced dead at 12:58 a.m.
The Legacy of the Words
Why do we still care about what he said? Maybe it’s because we want serial killers to show a "human" moment at the end. We want them to be afraid, or sorry, or at least acknowledge the gravity of what they did. Gacy did none of that.
His final statement remains one of the most cited in true crime history because it’s so jarringly aggressive. It serves as a reminder that some people don't "break" at the end. They stay exactly who they were until the lights go out.
If you're digging into the history of Gacy or the 1970s Chicago crime scene, it's worth looking at the court transcripts from his 1980 trial. They provide a lot more context into his manipulative personality than any "Killer Clown" documentary ever could. You'll see a man who was incredibly skilled at talking his way out of trouble—until he wasn't.
If you’re researching this to understand the psychology of serial offenders, your next move should be looking into the victim identification projects. Even decades later, investigators are still using DNA technology to identify the remaining "John Doe" victims found in Gacy’s crawl space. Supporting these forensic efforts is the best way to ensure Gacy’s victims—not his last words—are what we remember.
Actionable Insight: If you or someone you know is interested in cold case advocacy, check out the DNA Doe Project or similar non-profits. They work to give names back to the victims of unidentified crimes, including cases that date back to the Gacy era. Memory is the best weapon against the silence these killers tried to impose.