“Save me, Mother Mary, from the damnation I deserve,” he said. “I’m so sorry, people.”

He said a few more words, and you could feel the fear in his voice. A few minutes later, he was gone.

I watched Braun, strapped to a gurney at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary’s death chamber, die by lethal injection 11 years after he killed an Ardmore florist — one of five people he murdered in a four-state killing spree that ended on the high plains of northeastern New Mexico.

How things go down during an execution differs from one case to the next.

Some express fear, like Braun. Others defiantly proclaim their innocence. And still others placidly accept their fate. But there is one common thread that makes capital punishment unique from all other forms of justice: its finality.

There’s no going back once an execution is carried out, much in the same way you can’t recall a bullet after the trigger is pulled. Before you carry it out, you better be damned sure you got this one right.

Which brings us to the case of Julius Jones.

Jones was arrested, tried and convicted of murdering Edmond businessman Paul Howell in 1999 during a carjacking at Howell’s parents’ suburban home. He was sentenced to die for the crime. Oklahoma’s newly minted attorney general, John O’Connor, asked for an execution date, which the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeals has set for Nov. 18.

Jones is near the end of a lengthy fail-safe system that is intentionally deliberate. There are automatic appeals upon sentencing. State and federal examinations weigh the merits of a condemned inmate’s appeal, all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, if necessary. The Oklahoma Pardon and Parole Board hears each case during a clemency hearing. And ultimately, the governor has the final say on whether a death sentence is carried out or stayed.

No other form of American criminal justice has such an exhaustive review because no other form of American criminal justice ends a person’s life.

Certainty is not just the goal. It’s a moral mandate. The state has no acceptable margin of error here. You cannot kill an innocent person. Not one.

Jones, like many others condemned to die, has maintained his innocence.

Howell’s family, state prosecutors and those who built the case against him are adamant that he’s the culprit; Jones’ family, his attorneys and a small army of allies that includes no small number of celebrity advocates, say he was framed by a co-defendant who testified against him.

Plenty of high-profile capital cases have run this appeals gauntlet before, only to end just like Braun’s case did more than 21 years ago. But with Jones, a breaker switch on the fail-safe flipped: The Pardon and Parole Board voted to commute Jones’ sentence to life in prison, and the vote wasn’t close — a 3-1 tally.

“Personally, I believe in death penalty cases there should be no doubts. And put simply, I have doubts about this case,” Parole Board Chairman Adam Luck said during Jones’ clemency hearing.

The board’s vote isn’t the last say — that goes to Gov. Kevin Stitt. But it is a flashing red light signaling doubt.

To the governor, I’ll say this: Be absolutely certain of your choice. Once the state takes a life, there’s no getting that bullet back.

Featured video: Julius Jones commutation hearing: Full vote from Oklahoma Pardon and Parole Board