This story was commissioned by the as part of its series , which considers St. Louis County鈥檚 use of the death penalty.
On November 20, 2003, 45-year-old Beverly Guenther was abducted outside the office where she worked in Earth City, Missouri. She was stabbed and raped, her lifeless body left in the Patch neighborhood in south St. Louis, near the banks of the Mississippi River.
About a month prior, a 30-year-old then known as Scott McLaughlin had been charged with burglarizing Guenther鈥檚 Moscow Mills home. The two had been a couple until that summer, but Guenther had told others in recent months that she鈥檇 come to fear McLaughlin. She had taken out a restraining order.
Soon after Guenther鈥檚 neighbors reported her missing, police interrogated McLaughlin, who led them to Guenther鈥檚 body.
After a four-day-long trial in 2006, the jury found McLaughlin guilty of first-degree murder, and the judge ruled McLaughlin鈥檚 crime warranted death. McLaughlin is now scheduled to die on Tuesday, January 3 鈥 the second in a trio of St. Louis County defendants receiving execution dates this winter. , and Leonard Taylor is scheduled for Tuesday, February 7.
All three were prosecuted by , who saw 23 people sentenced to death during his long tenure. Voters ousted him in the wake of Michael Brown鈥檚 death in Ferguson, but that doesn鈥檛 change the fate of the people he prosecuted. Barring a last-minute reprieve, McLaughlin will be McCulloch鈥檚 12th execution.
But McLaughlin鈥檚 story is different from any of the four other St. Louis County people on death row, and the 11 already executed.
When McLaughlin arrived in Potosi Correctional Center, Jessica Hicklin had already been there for over a decade. At first, Hicklin says she only knew McLaughlin from a distance as someone 鈥渧ery full of anxiety, scattered.鈥
Then, in 2018, Hicklin won a landmark transgender-rights case against the Missouri Department of Corrections, allowing her and other transgender inmates access to hormone therapy.
鈥淎s a result of that [case], I became a sort of mom to a lot of girls who were coming out and trying to figure out how to have coming-out conversations and how to get access to hormone therapy,鈥 says Hicklin, who was released from prison earlier this year after serving 26 years.
One day another inmate introduced Hicklin to Amber McLaughlin.
Hicklin says she remembers thinking to herself, 鈥淣ow, this makes sense. I鈥檝e known you for a long time, you didn鈥檛 necessarily seem very comfortable in your skin, and now you鈥檙e smiling.鈥
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 really come to know Amber until, well, Amber became Amber,鈥 Hicklin says.
In a brief phone interview, McLaughlin says that when she was around 12 years old she started wearing women鈥檚 clothing, though she had to do so away from her parents and guardians.
鈥淚 knew then this is what I wanted to be,鈥 she says. 鈥淏ut I had to always do it secretly.鈥
McLaughlin describes her upbringing as 鈥渘ot always good. My adoptive parents were mean and strict.鈥
Court records indicate McLaughlin was in foster care for a time and that her adoptive father, a police officer, paddled her with what the family called a 鈥渂oard of education.鈥 He also used his night stick and taser on her.
When McLaughlin moved out on her own, she kept her desire to dress like a woman secret. With her own place, she says, she 鈥渃ould be that way as much as I wanted to.鈥
Legal experts say it鈥檚 uncertain how, or even if, McLaughlin鈥檚 gender will have any effect on the late-stage appeals her attorneys are now bringing. If McLaughlin is executed in January, she would be the first woman put to death by Missouri since the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976.
Hicklin, who worked for a paralegal for decades while incarcerated, says that whether McLaughlin鈥檚 gender affects her remaining appeals depends on the judge.
鈥淚 cannot fairly say that I know it鈥檚 in a judge鈥檚 head,鈥 she says. 鈥淚 can just say I鈥檝e seen some really horrible opinions where judges have gone out of their way to make sure that somebody鈥檚 being trans is made relevant to an otherwise irrelevant issue.鈥
What likely is relevant, says McLaughlin鈥檚 attorney Larry Komp, is that McLaughlin is 鈥渂orderline鈥 intellectually disabled. At her 2006 trial, a psychologist testified that McLaughlin had an IQ of 82. Hicklin calls her friend 鈥渁 very simple person,鈥 adding, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 mean that in a derogatory way.鈥
Over the phone, McLaughlin conducts her side of the conversation in short, soft-spoken replies.
About the death penalty, she says, 鈥淚t鈥檚 cruel and unusual punishment. Nobody deserves to be executed like this.鈥
About the murder of Beverly Guenther, she says, 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry. I didn鈥檛 mean for it to happen.鈥
She adds, 鈥淚 think if I鈥檇 been my true self, I probably would not have been there.鈥
When asked what it鈥檚 like to know the date she is scheduled to die, McLaughlin says, 鈥淚t鈥檚 stressful, it鈥檚 ...鈥 She trails off into a long silence.
During the sentencing phase of McLaughlin鈥檚 2006 trial, a psychiatrist named Keith Caruso was supposed to present mental-health evidence regarding McLaughlin鈥檚 state of mind at the time of murder.
However, in what attorneys now term the 鈥淒r. Caruso fiasco,鈥 the psychiatrist told defense attorneys that during cross-examination in a previous trial, allegations that he鈥檇 falsified research data had come to light.
Believing they would have to disclose this, the defense opted not to call Caruso as a witness. Komp says it was a devastating decision. There was no expert testimony regarding McLaughlin鈥檚 mental health 鈥 which the jury had been told would be integral to the case for life in prison instead of death.
鈥淭hey made that promise to the jury,鈥 Komp says. 鈥淭hat was the majority of their opening statement at the penalty phase. And then they broke that promise.鈥
Furthermore, Komp says the academic dishonesty in Caruso鈥檚 past didn鈥檛 have to be disclosed in the first place.
鈥淭he reason for not calling him was based on ignorance, a misunderstanding of Missouri law,鈥 Komp says.
The jury deadlocked on the question of death, leaving the decision to Judge Steven Goldman, who ruled that McLaughlin deserved to die.
Last week, Komp says he read with great interest the Missouri Supreme Court鈥檚 denial of a stay of execution for Kevin Johnson, who was executed two days later. Surprisingly, Komp found a lot in that ruling to be optimistic about in McLaughlin鈥檚 appeal.
The court鈥檚 ruling placed emphasis on the fact that it was the jury, not the prosecutor, who handed down the death penalty. "In the end it was the jury 鈥 not the prosecutor 鈥 that found Johnson guilty of murder in the first degree; it was the jury that found the three statutory aggravators; it was the jury that weighed the aggravating and mitigating factors; and it was the jury that found death to be the appropriate sentence," the court wrote.
鈥淚f you鈥檙e gonna rely on a jury,鈥 Komp says, 鈥渢hen I don鈥檛 have a jury sentence. I have a judge that came in when the jury couldn鈥檛 do it. That鈥檚 a huge distinction.鈥
Monica Obradovic provided additional reporting for this story.
For more on the River City Journalism Fund, which provided funding for this project and seeks to support local journalism in St. Louis, please see .