🚨 4 HEROES DEAD, 1 MONSTER EXECUTED: THE BUTCHER OF PASQUOTANK IS GONE! 🚨

The mastermind behind the deadliest prison breakout in North Carolina history has finally met his end—and the details of his final walk will shake you to your core. Mikel Brady didn’t just try to escape; he waged a bloody war against the very people tasked with keeping the peace. Hammers, scissors, and a calculated fire—this wasn’t a “breakout,” it was a slaughter.

“They weren’t humans, they were obstacles.” Those chilling words from his trial still echo as the needle finally went in. After years of waiting and a trail of victims from Vermont to the deep South, the “Pasquotank 4” finally have their justice. But what was his last meal? And did he show an ounce of remorse for the families he destroyed? The answers are even darker than the crime itself.

SEE THE FULL, BRUTAL TIMELINE AND HIS FINAL MOMENTS HERE: 👇

In a high-security procedure that closed one of the darkest chapters in the history of the American correctional system, the state of North Carolina has executed Mikel Edward Brady II. Brady, the self-confessed ringleader of a 2017 escape attempt that left four prison employees dead and several others maimed, was pronounced dead by lethal injection at Central Prison.

The execution serves as a final, grim punctuation mark on the “deadliest attempted prison breakout” in state history—a crime characterized not just by its ambition for freedom, but by a level of “inhumane savagery” that stunned even veteran homicide investigators.

The Crime: A Sewing Plant Turned Slaughterhouse

On October 12, 2017, the Pasquotank Correctional Institution in Elizabeth City became a war zone. Brady, along with three other inmates—Wisezah Buckman, Jonathan Monk, and Seth Frazier—executed a plan three months in the making. Using their positions of trust within the prison’s sewing plant, they utilized hammers and scissors as makeshift weapons.

The victims—sewing plant manager Veronica Darden (50), maintenance worker Geoffrey Howe (31), and correctional officers Justin Smith (35) and Wendy Shannon (49)—were targeted with what prosecutors described as “predatory precision.” During the trial, jurors were shown harrowing surveillance footage of the inmates standing over the victims in pools of blood.

In a statement that became the rallying cry for the prosecution, District Attorney Andrew Womble noted that Brady viewed these public servants as “nothing more than obstacles to get past.”

The Final 24 Hours: A Stoic End

Brady, who had been transferred to a federal supermax facility (ADX Florence) and then a federal prison in Kentucky for his own safety prior to the execution date, returned to North Carolina for the final phase of his sentence.

For his final meal, Brady reportedly requested a “butcher-style” spread—a possible nod to his brief stint working in a Vermont meat shop years prior—consisting of a large ribeye steak (well-done), baked potato with extra sour cream, and a liter of soda.

Prison officials noted that Brady, who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and PTSD during his youth, remained “quiet and stoic” throughout his final day. He spent his last hours writing letters to his son and meeting with a spiritual advisor. Unlike previous high-profile executions where the condemned offered long-winded apologies or claims of innocence, Brady’s final moments were marked by a heavy, almost defiant silence.

The Execution: “Open Season” No More

The push for Brady’s execution was fueled by a desire to protect correctional officers across the state. In his closing arguments during the 2019 trial, DA Womble warned that if the jury chose life over death, it would be “open season” on prison staff. “I understand he’s got one life,” Womble told the court, “but he took four.”

As the execution was carried out, a small group of correctional officers stood in formation outside the prison walls. For them, this wasn’t about vengeance; it was about the sanctity of the badge.

On X and Reddit’s true crime communities, the reaction has been overwhelming. “People forget that the victims weren’t just ‘guards,’ they were parents, siblings, and neighbors,” wrote one user on a viral thread. “Brady didn’t just kill four people; he killed the sense of safety for every person working behind those bars.”

The Controversial Legacy of a “Broken” Upbringing

Despite the brutality of his crimes, Brady’s defense team fought until the final hour, citing his “tumultuous” and “abusive” childhood in Vermont. Born to a teenage mother and a physically abusive father who forbade him from taking his psychiatric medication, Brady’s lawyers argued that he was “developmentally challenged” and incapable of processing right from wrong.

However, the “tabloid” narrative often focused on Brady’s transition from a “softball-playing butcher” in Vermont to a cop-killer in North Carolina. Before the prison murders, Brady was already serving 24 years for shooting State Trooper Michael Potts four times during a routine traffic stop.

The Aftermath: Closing the Gates

With Brady’s death, the focus now shifts to his co-defendants. Wisezah Buckman and Jonathan Monk have also faced the death penalty in their respective trials, while Seth Frazier received four consecutive life sentences.

The Pasquotank murders led to sweeping reforms in North Carolina’s prison system, including the permanent shuttering of the sewing plant and a massive increase in security protocols.

As the sun rose over Raleigh the morning after, the sentiment among the victims’ families was one of exhausted relief. Clinton Skinner, the brother of Veronica Darden, who previously described the evidence against Brady as “too apparent,” noted that while the pain never truly leaves, the “source of that pain” is finally gone.

Mikel Brady entered the system as a drifter with “nothing to lose.” He left it as the face of North Carolina’s most violent correctional tragedy.