This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.In the death chambers of the Mississippi Delta, on a rainy night in an Indiana penitentiary, and in the early hours at an Alabama prison, Elizabeth Bruenig has seen three men die. She watched them thrash, draw labored breaths, close their eyes. And then there was the execution that she wasn’t allowed to witness: a man convicted of murder whom she’d come to consider a friend.In The Atlantic’s July cover story, Elizabeth traces the lives of men on death row—who they were and who they became after years of imprisonment. During our conversation, we discussed the twin impulses of mercy and revenge, and why, when sitting across from a man on the cusp of death, she chose not to look away.Stephanie Bai: Some scenes in your story were grueling to read. You’re unflinching with the details of each person’s final moments, and when describing the autopsy of a man who underwent an allegedly botched execution.In a 2020 New York Times article, you observed that arguments against the death penalty “tend to be abstract” (focused on what it means to take a human life, or the limits of governmental power), but “arguments for the death penalty are visceral,” often going into detail about the crimes’ brutality. In this story, in which you clearly oppose the death penalty, why was it so important to not shy away from the details of these executions?Elizabeth Bruenig: I think when you’re trying to convince a reader to oppose the death penalty, which is a complicated and difficult argument to make, it’s important to put people in the room to try to give them a sense of what a personal experience it is.The anti-death-penalty arguments are usually abstract because if you spend a lot of time on the gory details of the crime, that can elicit emotions that make people support the death penalty. I understand why a lot of advocates prefer to focus on other arguments, such as the potential execution of innocent people. That’s been perhaps the most persuasive argument in recent decades against the death penalty. And it is abstract, in a sense, because you’re talking about something that might happen in the future, a risk associated with the system.But by taking it to a personal level, where I’m asking someone to consider the death penalty as a problem because it destroys the life of a human being, of a person with a personality and experiences and family and friends, that felt significant. The human level seemed like the most important part.Stephanie: Much of this story is about these prisoners on death row, which is a shift from the bulk of true-crime writing that generally focuses on the victims. How did you decide whose voices would be featured? And in the cases you write about, how have the victims’ families reacted to the death penalty?Elizabeth: I’ve spoken to victims’ families on numerous occasions, and they all feel different ways about the death penalty. In Joe Nathan James Jr.’s case, the family was against his death. In James Edward Barber’s case, there were members of the victim’s family who did not want to see him executed. And in David Neal Cox’s case, I spoke with the victim’s family, and they were in favor of the death penalty for him.I’ve heard a lot of different perspectives from victims’ families, and I’m a part of a victim’s family: My own sister-in-law was murdered in 2016. It isn’t that I don’t consider that side of the narrative important; it’s just that, as you point out, 99 percent of media about crime is going to focus on the victims. And rightfully so. But having the opportunity to focus on the offenders seemed like fresh snow that hadn’t been trodden upon from a journalistic standpoint.Stephanie: You spent a lot of time with Kenneth Eugene Smith, a man convicted of capital murder in Alabama, who you eventually came to see as a friend. Admittedly, that gave me pause. It might be an uncomfortable idea for some readers: seeing these men as people, not as just murderers. Can you describe how that friendship developed between you and Smith?Elizabeth: I had worked with guys on death row and had a good rapport with a couple of them, but I didn’t expect to wind up being as personally invested in Kenny’s case as I came to be. The friendship just happened as we talked and talked. I met him after I reported on botched executions, and as someone who had an execution date scheduled, he was terrified about the prospect of facing a torturous death. Talking to someone in that condition, it’s sort of hard not to offer some kind of solace, I guess.At the end of the day, this is just a person who knows they’re about to die in a grisly way. I find it difficult to communicate with someone in that condition without trying to show some respect, be there for them, be a sounding board. When you have a source that you’re working with, you want to be there to talk when they want to talk, for the sake of the story. But after a while, when you talk with someone, you develop a kind of investment, especially with Kenny. He was a really dear man, and I understand he did a very evil thing, but that was decades before I met him. And I do believe people, over time, can change.Stephanie: Through your attention to detail, I felt like I got to know some of these men as well: their sense of humor, what they liked, what they didn’t like, life inside prison. It was, to come back to that word, very visceral.Elizabeth: It’s a story about life and death, about killing. Taking it to that visceral place, I think, is just what you owe the subject matter.Related:Inside America’s death chambersJimi Barber died a forgiven man. (From 2023)Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:Tom Nichols: The silence of the generalsDavid Frum: Why Trump is losing his trade warThe White House is delighted with events in Los Angeles.Today’s NewsPresident Donald Trump said that the United States had reached a tentative trade deal with China, including a provision that would relax restrictions on American access to China’s rare earth minerals.Texas Governor Greg Abbott deployed the Texas National Guard yesterday to locations in the state where protests against federal immigration raids are expected.Elon Musk wrote on X that he regretted some of his posts about Trump last week, and that “they went too far.”DispatchesThe Weekly Planet: It’s last call for FEMA—Trump has signaled an end date for the agency, Zoë Schlanger writes.Explore all of our newsletters here.Evening ReadIllustration by Igor BastidasThe Growing Belief in ‘Love at First Sight’By Faith HillThe idea seems so old-fashioned, so sentimental: that you could fall for someone “at first sight,” deeply and instantly. It’s straight out of the classic romance dramas—Jack’s gaze freezing when he sees Rose on the Titanic’s deck; The Notebook’s Noah lighting up and asking, “Who’s this girl?” when he spies Allie across the amusement park. As a general rule, the stuff of popular love stories is not the stuff of real life. We know this, right?Not right, I guess.Read the full article.More From The AtlanticWhen a nasty habit is part of your national identityAnne Applebaum: This is what Trump does when his revolution sputters.Jonathan Chait: Are liberals to blame for the new McCarthyism?Good taste is more important than ever.Culture BreakIllustration by DR.ME*Watch. The Simpsons (streaming on Hulu and Disney+) has always been a wholesome show—even if some critics didn’t necessarily understand that, Alan Siegel writes.Read. Lone Wolf explores how the wolf’s return to Europe has divided the continent, Jonathan C. Slaght writes.Play our daily crossword.*Illustration Sources: Jacobs Stock Photography Ltd / Getty; Everett Collection.When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.