22YR OLD KILLER EXECUTED by Firing Squad,Burned Victim’s Eyes,Wrote with His Blood,17 Years on Death

Breaking news from the Department of Corrections tonight as the state of South Carolina has carried out another execution. 44year-old Steven Bryant died by firing squad less than an hour ago. Bryant was put to death for the murders of three people in Sumpter County back in 2004. The triple murderer made no final statement and briefly glanced at the 10 witnesses before a hood was placed over his head and then the shots rang out.

 Bryant is now the third South Carolina inmate to die by firing squad this year. On November 14th, 2025, Steven Corey Bryant was escorted into the execution chamber at the Broad River Correctional Institution in Columbia, South Carolina. He was 44 years old, having spent nearly half his life behind bars. The journey from his death row cell to the execution chamber marked the end of a 21-year legal battle and the conclusion of one of the most violent crime sprees in South Carolina history.

When the curtain to the execution chamber was pulled open at 6:00, Bryant was already strapped to the firing squad chair. His feet were shackled, his arms strapped behind him, and his head secured in place. Bryant made no final statement. He briefly glanced at the 10 witnesses before the hood was placed on his head.

 Three members of the Tiain family were among those watching, finally witnessing justice for their loved one after two decades of waiting. Around 6:01 p.m., a black hood was pulled over his head. Then the shade covering the rifle ports was raised. Behind a wall, three corrections department volunteers stood with rifles aimed at a target, marking Bryant’s heart.

 The shots rang out about 55 seconds later. Bryant made no noise. The red bullseye target that marks the location of his heart flew forward off his chest. He continued breathing shallowly for 30 seconds. Blood began staining the fabric on his chest. About 70 seconds after he was struck, witnesses heard him make a cough-like noise and make a jerking motion.

Bryant was declared dead at 6:05 p.m. 3 minutes after being shot in the heart. Bryant was the third South Carolina inmate to be executed by firing squad, an option he had chosen over the electric chair and lethal injection. Brad Sigman was executed by firing squad in March 2025, the first execution of its kind in the US since 2010.

 Mikl Madi was also executed by firing squad in South Carolina a month later in April 2025. South Carolina matched Utah’s three decade record of three firing squad executions in just 8 months. Bryant faced execution for the October 2004 murder of Willard Irving Taichin Jr. a 62-year-old retired Air Force sergeant who had made the fatal mistake of showing kindness to a stranger.

 Then had invited Bryant into his isolated Sumpter County home after Bryant claimed his truck had overheated. The two men talked for hours before Bryant pulled out a stolen handgun and shot Tichin nine times. But Bryant did not stop there. He tortured the dead man’s body with cigarette burns, ransacked his home, and then answered Tichin’s cell phone when his wife and daughter called, taunting them with the news of the murder.

 He left messages written in the victim’s blood, signing them the prowler and challenging law enforcement to catch him. But Tiain was not Bryant’s only victim during those terrifying October days. In a single week, Bryant shot four people, killing three of them. Clinton Brown was shot in the back while fishing at the Watery River and somehow survived.

 Clifton Gayy, a 36-year-old father who considered Bryant a friend, was murdered on a dirt road and had his trailer burned to destroy evidence. Christopher Burgess, a 35-year-old motorcyclist, was killed after making the mistake of accepting a ride from Bryant at a convenience store. The community east of Colombia, lived in absolute terror as the bodies accumulated and the killer remained free.

Bryant’s execution was the state’s fifth of the year and third by firing squad. South Carolina is now tied for the second most executions of any state in the country this year with Texas and Alabama. Florida leads all states in executions with 16 so far in 2025. Bryant’s last meal was two egg rolls, three stuffed shrimp, two candy bars, German chocolate cake, and Pepsi.

But before we examine that final day in the execution chamber, there is a story that needs to be told. A story about a boy from Sumpter County whose brain was damaged before he was born. About a child who suffered unspeakable abuse at the hands of those who should have protected him.

 And about a young man who begged for mental health treatment just weeks before his violence began. If you’re drawn to stories of justice, betrayal, and the people who reach a point of no return, make sure to subscribe to No Way Out. This is where true crime meets truth. Real cases, real consequences, the darkest corners of human decision, broken down into tiny pieces, so you can see every detail and make your own conclusions better.

 Steven Corey Bryant was born on April 12th, 1981 in South Carolina. From his earliest days, his life was filled with problems that would only get worse as he grew older. His mother had a serious drug and alcohol problem while she was pregnant with him. She went on drinking binges that exposed her unborn baby to harmful levels of alcohol.

Doctors would later say that this exposure to alcohol and drugs before birth caused lasting damage to Bryant’s brain. This damage made it hard for him to make good decisions, understand what would happen because of his actions, and control his behavior. The harm done before Bryant was even born would affect him for the rest of his life.

 When a mother drinks heavily during pregnancy, it can cause a condition called fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. Children born with this condition often have trouble controlling their impulses and making good choices. They may look normal in many ways, but their brains do not work the same as other people’s brains.

Bryant came into the world already facing a huge disadvantage because of what his mother did while carrying him. Bryant’s childhood was full of trauma and chaos that would have hurt even a child born without these problems. His home life was unpredictable and scary. His father was physically violent and his mother kept drinking and struggling with mental illness throughout his childhood.

Children need safety and love to grow up healthy, but Bryant did not have these things. Before he became a teenager, Bryant was sexually abused by several male relatives. The abuse started when he was just 6 years old, an age when children depend completely on adults to protect them. Instead of protection, Bryant was violated.

 The abuse went on for years. Three men in his own family sexually assaulted him over and over throughout his childhood. They took advantage of a small boy who had no one to turn to for help. The abuse did not stop with his family. A preacher’s wife and several women in his neighborhood also abused him during this time.

 Being hurt by someone connected to a church added to his confusion and pain. Bryant could not escape the abuse by leaving his home or finding safety in his community. The people and places that should have protected him instead caused more harm. These terrible experiences left deep wounds that Bryant would carry for the rest of his life.

 They shaped how he saw relationships, trust, and his own value as a person. His aunt, Terry Calder, later described seeing Bryant as one that looked tortured, like his soul had been ripped open, and he was living through the abuse all over again. The memories he had tried to bury for years were coming back and overwhelming him.

 Calder said Bryant was very upset and that you could see in his eyes how much he was hurting. He seemed to be experiencing the abuse again as the memories surfaced. The pain he had pushed down for so long was rising up with terrible force. The effects of his awful childhood showed up early in his life. Bryant struggled in school from the very start.

 He showed signs of low mental ability and poor emotional control from elementary school onward. He could not keep up with other kids his age. He had trouble understanding social situations and making friends the right way. Teachers wrote about his problems in his school records, creating proof that this was a child in trouble.

 But even with all this documented evidence, the school system did not give Bryant the serious help he needed. When he was just 11 years old, Bryant was first locked up in the juvenile justice system. This early contact with courts and detention centers started a pattern that would continue for the rest of his life.

 The juvenile system was supposed to help young offenders and put them on a better path. For Bryant, it completely failed. Being locked up did not fix the real reasons for his problems or give him the mental health treatment he badly needed. Instead of getting therapy for his trauma and help for his learning problems, Bryant was just held for a while and then let go.

 He left no better than when he went in. Bryant’s first serious brush with the law came when he was in his late teens. By the time he was 19 years old, he had begun committing burglaries. The pattern of being locked up that started when he was 11 continued into adulthood. The juvenile system had failed to help him, and now the adult criminal justice system would do the same.

 In the early 2000s, he was arrested and convicted of burglary, receiving an 18-month prison sentence. Some accounts say he served as much as three years for attempted burglary. Either way, Bryant spent a significant portion of his young adult life behind bars. Prison did nothing to help Bryant deal with his real problems.

He received no therapy for the sexual abuse he had suffered as a child. He received no treatment for the mental health conditions that had been building since birth. He received no help for his drug addiction. The prison system simply held him for a period of time and then released him back into the same world.

After his release from prison, Bryant returned to Sumpre County and tried to build a normal life. He wanted to do better. He wanted to stay out of trouble. He found work as a carpenter with a local construction company owned by Gareth Vanney. The job offered him a chance at stability, a regular paycheck, and a sense of purpose.

Bryant was described by his employer and co-workers as generally pleasant and hardworking when he showed up for work. People who met him during this time had no idea what he had been through or what he was capable of. He seemed like a regular young man trying to make an honest living. For a brief time, it seemed like Bryant might be able to create the stable life he had never known. He had a job.

 He had co-workers who got along with him. He was building skills in a trade that could support him for years to come. However, his performance was inconsistent. He struggled with poor attendance, sometimes not showing up for work at all. He had difficulty meeting the standards expected of him on the job site.

 During this time, Bryant formed a friendship with one of his co-workers, a 36-year-old man named Clifton Gay. Gany had moved to Sumpter County from Sherah about a year earlier to be closer to his two sons. The two men worked together on construction projects and spent time together outside of work. They went on fishing trips and hung out with each other’s families.

 Gayy considered Bryant a friend. He had no way of knowing that this friendship would cost him his life. In 2003, Bryant was fired from the construction company due to his poor attitude and work performance. Garris Vanney, the owner of the company, let him go because he could not depend on Bryant to show up and do his job properly.

 The loss of this job was another setback in Bryant’s already troubled life. He had tried to build something normal, and he had failed. The rejection reinforced the message he had received his entire life. He was worthless. He could not succeed and he did not belong in normal society. Without steady work, Bryant’s financial situation became desperate.

 He had no money coming in and no way to support himself. Despite being unemployed, Bryant remained in the Sumpter County area. He moved in with his girlfriend Norma Janine Betts in Wedgefield at the Wilds Mobile Home Park on Eagle Road. Betts was the mother of his daughter and the two had been in a relationship for some time.

She later described how different Bryant had been when they first met in North Carolina. Back then, he was a nice young man who held down a job and seemed to be doing well. But after they moved to Pilotka, everything changed. Betts watched Bryant fall apart. She saw him start hanging out with the wrong crowd.

 She watched as he became addicted to crack cocaine. The man she had known in North Carolina disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized. The drugs changed him completely. He became unreliable, unpredictable, and increasingly desperate for money to feed his addiction. The stable life they might have built together crumbled as his substance abuse took over.

 Bryant continued to struggle with drug addiction and mental health issues throughout 2003 and into 2004. The methamphetamine and bug sprayed marijuana he used to escape his pain were making his problems worse, but he had no other way to cope. He had never learned healthy ways to deal with stress and trauma.

 Drugs were the only tool he had, even though they were destroying him. His financial situation grew more desperate by the day. He had no job, no money, and a drug habit that demanded constant feeding. By the fall of 2004, Bryant was still on probation from his earlier burglary conviction. He was supposed to be checking in with probation officers and staying out of trouble.

 He was supposed to be working toward a better life, but he was falling apart instead. The structure that probation was supposed to provide meant nothing when his underlying problems remained untreated. He went through the motions of meeting with his probation officer while his mental state deteriorated rapidly.

 In September 2004, the memories of his childhood sexual abuse became overwhelming. The pain he had tried to bury for years came flooding back with terrible force. Bryant sought help from a probation officer and told his grandmother and aunt about the abuse he had suffered. For the first time in his life, he opened up about what had been done to him as a child.

 He explained that three men in his family had sexually abused him starting when he was 6 years old. He described how the abuse had continued for years. He told them that the memories were tormenting him, that he could not escape them no matter how hard he tried. This was a desperate cry for help from a man who had never been able to talk about his trauma before. Recognizing that he needed help.

Bryant tried to get professional mental health counseling, Bryant told the people at these facilities about the abuse he had suffered. He described the memories that would not stop no matter what he did. He explained that he felt like he was losing control, that he was scared of what might happen if he did not get help.

 He was honest about his drug use and his mental health symptoms. He did everything a person in crisis is supposed to do. He asked for help. However, he was turned away. The reason was simple but devastating. Bryant could not afford to pay for treatment. Mental health care in America costs money, often a lot of money.

 Without insurance or the funds to cover the cost of therapy, the facilities refused to help him. By early October 2004, Bryant had made a decision. Whether he knew it fully in his conscious mind or whether it happened somewhere deeper inside him, he had decided that he would commit a series of crimes. For several days before he acted, Bryant drove his distinctive blue and white pickup truck through the rural areas of Sumpter County.

 The truck was easy to recognize with its two-tone paint job standing out on the dirt roads that wound through the countryside. Bryant spent hours behind the wheel, driving slowly through neighborhoods and past isolated properties. He was looking for opportunities. He was studying the land. He was methodically casing homes, particularly those that were isolated and far from the main roads.

 This was not random driving. Bryant was hunting. He was looking for houses where he could commit crimes without being seen or caught. He paid attention to which properties had long driveways. He noted which homes were surrounded by woods that blocked the view from neighbors. He observed which roads had little traffic and which areas seemed quiet and empty during the middle of the day.

 Every drive taught him more about the area and helped him identify potential targets. Sumpter County’s landscape made it an ideal location for what Bryant had in mind. The area is crisscrossed with dirt and gravel roads that win through wooded areas between Shaw Air Force Base and the Manchester State Forest.

 These are not busy highways with constant traffic. They are quiet country roads where a truck can drive for miles without passing another vehicle. The roads twist and turn through forests and farmland, connecting scattered homes that often sit far from their nearest neighbors. Many homes in rural Sumpter County sit on large parcels of land, sometimes hundreds of acres with long driveways that make them invisible from the road.

A person driving past might not even know a house was there. The driveways could stretch for half a mile or more, winding through trees and fields before reaching the actual residence. This privacy was attractive to the people who lived there. They wanted peace and quiet, space to breathe, land to call their own.

 But this same privacy made them vulnerable to someone like Bryant. The rural character of the area meant that neighbors were often far apart and unable to see or hear what happened at nearby properties. If something happened at one house, the people living in the next house would have no idea. Screams would not carry across the distance.

 Gunshots might be mistaken for hunters in the woods. A stranger’s truck in a driveway would go unnoticed because there was no one around to notice. The isolation that residents valued also meant there was no one to help if something went wrong. Bryant’s approach was calculated. Despite the damage to his brain and his struggles with rational thinking, he was capable of careful planning when it came to crime.

 He would drive up to isolated homes during midday hours when residents might be home alone. He chose times when working people would be at their jobs, but stay-at-home spouses or retirees might be by themselves. He looked for properties where a single person might be vulnerable with no one else around to help or interfere. He developed cover stories to explain his presence at these homes.

 A stranger showing up at your door in rural South Carolina needed a reason to be there. People would ask questions. They would want to know why you were on their property. Bryant prepared answers for these questions. He created believable stories that would make homeowners trust him and not suspect anything was wrong.

Sometimes Bryant claimed he was looking for someone and had gotten lost. This was a believable excuse on the winding dirt roads of Sumpter County, where even longtime residents sometimes took wrong turns. He would give a name, ask if the homeowner knew where this person lived, and appear confused about directions.

The homeowner would typically try to help, giving directions or suggesting other places to look. The interaction seemed innocent enough. Other times, Bryant said his truck had broken down or overheated and he needed help. Car trouble was common on rural roads, and asking for help was what people did. He might asked to use a phone to call someone or ask for water for his radiator, or just ask if the homeowner knew anything about fixing trucks.

 These requests gave Bryant a reason to hang around the property, to look around, to see what the house and land looked like up close. On one occasion, Bryant told a homeowner that his brother had stolen his pickup truck and he needed assistance. This was a more elaborate story that required the homeowner to invest time and effort in helping.

It created a longer interaction during which Bryant could observe the property, note where valuables might be kept, and assess whether the homeowner lived alone or with others. The more time he spent at a property, the more he learned about it. Debbie Durant, a woman who lived in the area, had an encounter with Bryant during these scouting days that she would later remember with horror.

 Bryant drove up the half-mile driveway to her house from a gravel road. He claimed to be a contractor who could not find the house where he was supposed to be working. Durant talked with him briefly, but something about the man made her uncomfortable. She could not put her finger on exactly what was wrong.

 But something in his eyes bothered her deeply. Durant told Bryant she could not help him and asked him to please drive slowly down her driveway because her dogs were in the yard. This was actually a trick to get him to leave slowly enough that she could write down his license plate number. Something about Bryant had triggered her instincts and she wanted a record of who had come to her door.

She copied down the plate number of his blue and white pickup truck, not knowing that this information would later become important evidence. On October 4th, 2004, Bryant visited the home of Tom Dennis. The Dennis property sat on several hundred acres of land far back from the road at the end of a long driveway.

 Bryant drove his blue and white pickup truck up the long driveway and approached the house. When Dennis came out to see who was visiting, Bryant used the story about his brother and the stolen truck. He told Dennis that his brother had taken his pickup and that it was now stuck in a ditch somewhere. He asked Dennis for help, appearing to be a young man in a difficult situation who needed a hand from a neighbor.

 Dennis, being neighborly, helped Bryant with what appeared to be a genuine problem. This was how people in rural South Carolina treated each other. When someone needed help, you helped them. You did not ask too many questions or treat strangers with suspicion. Dennis spent time with Bryant trying to assist with the supposed truck situation.

 He was kind to a man who appeared to be having a bad day. Dennis thought nothing more of the interaction after Bryant left. It seemed like a random encounter, the kind of thing that happened from time to time on rural properties. Bryant had learned what he needed to know from the visit. He had seen the layout of the property.

 He had identified where the house and outuildings were located. He had observed that Dennis lived in an isolated area with no close neighbors. He had noted what kind of person Dennis was, how trusting and helpful. All of this information would prove useful the very next day when Bryant returned to the property with a very different purpose in mind.

The visit to the dentist property on October 4th was the last step in Bryant’s planning phase. On October 5th, 2004, Bryant put his plan into action. After spending several days driving around the rural areas of Sumpre County and identifying potential targets, he was ready to move from watching to doing.

 He returned to Tom Dennis’s property, the same home he had visited the day before with his story about a brother stealing his truck. Dennis had helped Bryant that day, showing him kindness and not suspecting anything was wrong. Now Bryant would repay that kindness by breaking into his home. Bryant waited until no one was at the property.

 Bryant broke into the home office on Dennis’s property while Dennis was away. The burglary was methodical and careful. Bryant went through the office room by room, opening drawers and cabinets, looking for valuables and anything that might be useful for what he had planned next. He was not in a hurry. He searched thoroughly, making sure he did not miss anything worth taking.

 He stole electronics that he could sell for drug money. He took cash that was lying around. He grabbed other items that caught his eye before leaving the property. The success of this first burglary emboldened Bryant. He had broken into a home in broad daylight and gotten away with it. No one had seen him. No one had called the police.

 No alarm had gone off. He had proven to himself that he could break into homes in the area without being caught. The fear that might have stopped another person from continuing down this path was replaced by confidence. If he could do it once, he could do it again. 3 days later on Friday, October 8th, 2004, Bryant committed a second burglary.

 The first break-in had given him confidence, but it had not given him everything he needed. He had stolen some valuables and cash, but he wanted more. This time, he targeted the home of James Ammons, another isolated property in rural Sumpter County. Ammons lived in the kind of house that Bryant had been looking for during his days of scouting the area.

 Bryant broke into the Ammon’s house while no one was home. He had watched the property and knew when it would be empty. This burglary was more purposeful than the first one. Bryant was not just looking for things to steal and sell. He had a specific goal in mind. He was looking for a weapon. Before entering the house, he did something that showed he was thinking ahead and planning for problems.

 Bryant cut the phone wires to the house before going inside. This simple act revealed a lot about his state of mind and his intentions. By cutting the phone lines, he ensured that no one inside could call for help if they returned unexpectedly while he was still in the house. If Ammons or a family member came home and found Bryant inside, they would not be able to pick up the phone and dial 911.

 They would be trapped with him, unable to summon police or anyone else who might stop him. This showed planning and an understanding of how to neutralize potential threats. Inside the Ammon’s home, Bryant searched room by room looking for what he really wanted. He went through closets and drawers.

 He checked the bedroom and the living room. He looked in the places where people typically keep valuable items. And then he found what he was looking for, a 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun along with ammunition. The gun was exactly what Bryant needed for the next phase of whatever he was planning. Bryant stole the weapon and loaded it with the ammunition he found.

He also took other valuables from the house, items he could sell or use. But the gun was the real prize. With this weapon in his possession, Bryant was transformed from a burglar into something far more dangerous. He was no longer just a man breaking into empty houses and stealing electronics. He was now an armed man with a proven willingness to commit crimes and an increasingly unstable mental state.

Later that same day, Friday, October 8th, 2004, Bryant’s crime spree took a violent turn. The burglaries were about to become something far worse. With the stolen 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun now in his possession, Bryant was armed and dangerous. The gun that he had taken from the Ammon’s home just hours earlier was loaded and ready.

Bryant got in his blue and white pickup truck and drove toward the Watery River, which forms part of the border between Sumpter County and Richland County. The Watery River is a slowmoving waterway that winds through the countryside of central South Carolina. Its banks are lined with trees and vegetation, creating peaceful spots where people come to fish, relax, and enjoy nature.

The river was a popular destination for local fishermen who knew its currents and its best fishing holes. On warm October afternoons, it was common to see people with fishing poles sitting along the banks, waiting patiently for a bite. On this particular Friday afternoon, 56-year-old Clinton Brown was enjoying a peaceful day by the water.

 Brown was a regular fisherman who knew the Watery River well. He had been coming to this spot for years, casting his line into the slowmoving water and enjoying the quiet solitude that fishing provided. It was the kind of simple pleasure that many people in rural South Carolina cherished. A man, a fishing pole, and a river.

 Nothing complicated, just peace and quiet, and the hope of catching something for dinner. Brown had no reason to think this day would be different from any other fishing trip. He had driven out to his favorite spot along the riverbank, parked his vehicle nearby, and settled in for an afternoon of fishing. Bryant drove to the area where the watery river crosses from Richland County into Sumpter County.

 He knew the area from his days of driving around, scouting locations, and looking for opportunities. Bryant spotted Clinton Brown fishing along the riverbank. Here was a man alone, focused on his fishing line, his back to the road and the parking area. Brown was completely absorbed in what he was doing.

 Watching the water for signs of fish, not watching behind him for signs of danger. He was vulnerable in the way that people are vulnerable when they feel safe and relaxed. His guard was down. His attention was elsewhere. He never saw Bryant coming. Bryant approached the riverbank where Brown was fishing.

 He walked toward the older man, the stolen gun hidden on his person. What happened next demonstrated the cold-blooded nature of what was to come. Without any warning or provocation, without any words exchanged or any conflict between them, Bryant pulled out the 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun. He raised the weapon and aimed it at Clinton Brown’s back.

 The gunshot shattered the peaceful afternoon. The bullet struck Brown in the back while he was facing away from his attacker. Brown had no chance to defend himself. He had no opportunity to run or fight or even understand what was happening. But Clinton Brown was remarkably tough. Despite being seriously wounded with a bullet lodged in his back, he managed to remain conscious and functional.

 The pain must have been excruciating. The shock of being shot without warning must have been overwhelming. Most people in that situation would have collapsed on the riverbank, unable to move, waiting to die or waiting for help that might never come. Brown did neither of those things. With the bullet still in his back, Brown got himself to his vehicle.

 He moved despite the wound, despite the blood loss, despite the trauma his body had just experienced. He reached his car and somehow managed to get inside. Brown drove himself to Twomi Hospital in Sumpter. When Brown arrived at the hospital, the medical staff immediately recognized the severity of his condition.

 Doctors and nurses worked quickly to stabilize him and treat the gunshot wound. They assessed the damage, controlled the bleeding, and provided the emergency care that Brown needed to survive. It was touchandgo for a while, but the medical team did their job. Clinton Brown survived the attack. The shooting of Clinton Brown marked a turning point in Bryant’s crime spree.

Up until this moment, he had been a burglar. He had broken into homes and stolen property, but he had not hurt anyone. The burglaries were serious crimes, but they were not violent crimes. Now everything had changed. Bryant had shot a man in the back without any reason. He had tried to kill someone.

 He had crossed a line from property crime to violent crime, from burglar to attempted murderer. On Saturday, October 9th, 2004, Bryant’s crime spree took its most personal turn yet. The day before, he had shot a stranger at the Watery River, a man he had never met and had no connection to. Now, he would turn his violence towards someone he knew well, someone who considered him a friend.

 This betrayal would show just how far Bryant had fallen and how dangerous he had become to everyone around him, even those closest to him. Clifton Gany was a 36-year-old man who had once worked alongside Bryant at Vanney Construction. The two men had been co-workers, spending their days doing carpentry work and construction projects together.

 They had gotten to know each other on job sites, sharing lunch breaks and conversations about their lives. Despite Bryant’s firing from the company for poor performance, he and Ga had maintained a friendship after Bryant left. Their relationship continued even when they were no longer working together. The friendship between Bryant and Gayy went beyond just being former co-workers.

 They went on fishing trips together, spending peaceful hours by the water with their fishing poles. They spent time with each other’s families, visiting each other’s homes, and getting to know the people who mattered most to each of them. Gayy considered Bryant a genuine friend, someone he could trust and enjoy spending time with.

 He never suspected that this friendship would bring danger to his door. He had no idea that the man he went fishing with was capable of violence. Dany had moved to Sumpre County just over a year earlier from Shira, South Carolina. His primary reason for relocating was simple and beautiful.

 He wanted to be closer to his two sons, Christopher and Michael. These boys meant everything to Gene. They were the center of his world. The reason he got up in the morning, the motivation behind his decision to uproot his life and move to a new town. A father’s love for his children had brought him to Sumpter County where he hoped to be a bigger part of their lives.

Gany also had two stepdaughters from a previous relationship. He had taken on the role of father figure to these girls, treating them as his own children. His capacity to love extended beyond blood relationships. He opened his heart to anyone who became part of his family. The people who knew Gy described him as a good-hearted person who loved his children deeply and would never harm anyone.

 He was not complicated or difficult. He was a simple man who worked hard at his job, enjoyed fishing in his spare time, and valued his relationships with friends and family above all else. That Saturday afternoon started like any normal day between friends. Bryant picked up Gayy, probably telling him they should hang out, go get some beer, enjoy the October weather.

 Gay had no reason to be suspicious. This was his friend Steven, the guy he went fishing with, the guy who had spent time with his family. Getting in Bryant’s blue and white pickup truck, seemed perfectly safe. The two men drove to a convenience store together to buy beer and steaks. They were planning an afternoon of leisure. Witnesses at the convenience store later recalled seeing Bryant and Gayy together.

 There were no signs of conflict between them. They were not arguing or fighting. They appeared to be exactly what they looked like. Two friends heading out for an afternoon of relaxation. Nothing about their interaction suggested that one of them would be dead within hours. After leaving the store with their beer and steaks, Bryant suggested they go for a drive through the rural dirt roads of Sumpter County.

 Gayy agreed, probably thinking nothing of it. Driving around the countryside was a common way to pass time in rural South Carolina. The winding dirt roads offered peaceful scenery and a chance to get away from it all. Gany settled into the passenger seat as Bryant drove, not knowing that these would be the last hours of his life.

 Bryant drove his blue and white pickup truck along Bellsmill Road, a dirt road that wound through isolated wooded areas far from any houses or businesses. The road was quiet and empty, exactly the kind of place where no one would see or hear anything. Bryant had spent days driving these roads, learning which ones were most isolated, which ones offered the best opportunities for crime.

 He had chosen this route deliberately. At some point during the drive, Bryant pulled over to the side of the road. Both men got out of the vehicle. Gay walked a short distance from the truck to relieve himself. This was common when driving on rural roads with no gas stations or rest stops. He turned his back to Bryant, facing away from his friend as he took care of his business.

 In that vulnerable moment, with his back turned and his guard completely down, Bryant made his move. He raised the stolen 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun and aimed it at his friend’s back. Bryant pulled the trigger and shot Gay in the back. The bullet tore through Gay’s body while he was completely defenseless, facing away from his attacker.

 This was the same method Bryant had used with Clinton Brown the day before. He shot people in the back when they were not looking, when they had no chance to defend themselves or even see what was coming. The cowardice of these attacks showed that Bryant wanted easy victims, not fair fights. Gay reacted instinctively to the gunshot.

 The pain was immediate and overwhelming. He raised his hand to shield his face as he turned toward his attacker, perhaps trying to protect himself from further harm. But Bryant was not finished. As Gany turned and raised his hand, Bryant fired again. This time, he shot Gayy in the head at close range. The second shot was fatal. There was no surviving a bullet to the head from a 40 caliber handgun at close distance.

Gay collapsed on the side of Bell’s Mill Road, dead from wounds inflicted by a man he had considered his friend. The stakes they had bought together sat in the truck, never to be grilled. Bryant stood over the body of his former friend and coworker. He had just murdered a man who trusted him, a man who had gone fishing with him, a man who had invited him to spend time with his family.

 Bryant left Ga’s body lying on the side of Bell’s Mill Road. He did not try to hide it or bury it or move it somewhere less visible. He simply drove away, leaving his friend in the dirt where he had fallen. The body would be discovered later that evening by people passing by. But Bryant did not care about that. He was already thinking about his next move.

 Bryant was not finished with his betrayal of his former friend. Killing Gany was only part of what he planned to do that day. He drove from the murder scene directly to Geney’s rented mobile home. He knew where Gay lived because they had been friends. He had visited the trailer before under friendly circumstances.

 Now he was returning as a thief and a murderer. Bryant broke into Gene’s home and systematically ransacked it. He went through every room, opening drawers and cabinets, looking for anything of value. He stole electronics that he could sell for drug money. He took an aquarium for reasons that remain unclear.

 He grabbed anything else that caught his eye or seemed worth taking. The burglary was thorough, as if Bryant wanted to take everything his dead friend had owned. The ransacking of Gayy’s home showed the calculating nature of Bryant’s crimes. If you are finding this documentary informative, take a moment to subscribe to No Way Out.

 We release new documentaries every week covering the most significant death penalty cases in America. Hit that subscribe button and click the notification bell so you never miss an upload. Now, let us continue with the story. After looting his dead friend’s home, Bryant committed one final act of destruction.

 He set fire to Gainy’s trailer. The flames quickly spread through the mobile home, consuming everything inside. By burning the trailer, Bryant was ensuring that the evidence of his burglary would be destroyed. Fingerprints, footprints, any trace of his presence would be reduced to ashes. The fire was a deliberate attempt to cover his tracks.

 The fire also meant that Gene’s home would be reduced to nothing. Everything Gene had worked for, all his possessions, all the things that made his trailer a home would be gone. The fire department received a call about the blaze and responded as quickly as they could, but by the time they arrived, the damage was extensive.

 Mobile homes burned quickly, and the fire had already consumed much of the structure. Firefighters worked to contain the blaze and prevent it from spreading to nearby properties, but there was little they could do to save Geney’s home. The trailer was a total loss. Around 7:00 that Saturday evening, witnesses discovered Ga’s body on Bell’s Mill Road.

 They had been driving along the dirt road when they spotted something lying on the side of the road. When they got closer, they realized it was a person. They stopped and approached, probably hoping the person was just injured and needed help, but Gayy was clearly dead, shot, and left in the dirt. The witnesses reported seeing a blue and white pickup truck driving away from the area shortly before they found the body.

 The truck matched the description of Bryant’s vehicle, though the witnesses were too far away to identify the driver or get a clear license plate number. They had not thought anything of seeing a truck on a rural road until they found the body. Then the truck became significant, a potential clue to who had committed this terrible crime.

 Law enforcement responded quickly to the scene once the witnesses called for help. Deputies and detectives arrived at Bellsmill Road and found Gay’s body exactly where Bryant had left it. The victim had been shot multiple times, including once in the head. The body had not been there at 6:30 in the evening, meaning the killing had occurred within the last half hour before the discovery.

 The timeline was tight, which meant the killer might still be in the area. Investigators quickly determined that this was a murder, not an accident or a suicide. The wounds were clearly from a firearm, and the circumstances did not match self-inflicted injury. Based on the location of the wounds and the position of the body, detectives believed that Gayy knew his killer.

 He had been shot in the back first, suggesting he was not facing his attacker when the violence began. He had been shot while vulnerable and trusting, which suggested he had not seen the attack coming from someone he was with. The connection to the trailer fire became apparent quickly. When investigators learned that the burned trailer belonged to Clifton Gay, the same man whose body had just been found on Bell’s Mill Road, they realized the crimes were connected.

 Someone had murdered Gayy, robbed his home, and then set it on fire to destroy the evidence. The pattern suggested a killer who was organized and thinking ahead, not someone acting purely on impulse. On Monday, October 11th, 2004, something did happen. Bryant targeted his most carefully planned and brutal murder yet. The violence was about to escalate to a level that would shock even investigators who had seen terrible crimes before.

 The victim would be a retired military veteran, a devoted family man, and a person who had shown nothing but kindness to the stranger who came to his door. 62-year-old Willard Irving Tchin Jr., known as TJ to his friends and family, lived in an isolated ranchstyle home in the Wedgefield area of Sumpter County.

 The house sat on Cain Savannah Road, far from neighbors and surrounded by rural countryside. It was exactly the kind of isolated property that Brian had been targeting throughout his crime spree. The long driveway, the distance from other homes, the rural setting that offered privacy also offered vulnerability. Tichin was a retired US Air Force sergeant who had spent his entire career serving his country.

 His military service had taken him around the world from the Philippines to Germany, from Thailand to Oregon. He had lived in places most people only read about, experiencing different cultures and serving at various bases throughout his career. The military had been his life for decades, giving him structure, purpose, and the opportunity to see the world.

 After his retirement from the Air Force, Tijan settled in South Carolina where he could enjoy a quieter life. He wanted to pursue his hobbies, enjoy the outdoors, and most importantly, spend time with his family. The rural property in Sumpter County gave him everything he wanted. Peace, privacy, and a place to call home.

 After years of moving from base to base around the world, Tin was a devoted father, grandfather, and husband. Family was at the center of everything he did. He had been married to Mildred Carol Karstensson for 39 years, building a life together that had survived multiple military relocations and all the challenges that come with being a service member’s spouse.

 Their relationship had started in December 1964 when they met on a blind date while Tiain was stationed in Iowa. The connection between them was immediate and strong. Just 3 months after that first blind date in March 1965, Willard and Mildrid were married. The quick decision to marry might seem impulsive, but it proved to be one of the best choices either of them ever made.

 They built a life together through his various military postings, adapting to new places, making friends, and creating a home wherever the Air Force sent them. Their marriage lasted nearly four decades and produced a daughter they both adored. That daughter was Kimberly Sue Dees who lived in Sumpter with her husband Robert. Kimberly was the light of her father’s life.

 He had poured himself into raising her, teaching her everything he thought was important and giving her the kind of childhood that would prepare her for a good life. Even after she grew up and married, Kimberly remained close to her father. They talked regularly, visited often, and maintained the bond they had built throughout her childhood.

 That Monday afternoon, Bryant approached Teachon’s home with murder on his mind. He drove his blue and white pickup truck up the long driveway, approaching the isolated house where Teachon lived. Bryant knew from his days of scouting that properties like this offered opportunity. The isolation that Teachon valued also made him vulnerable to someone with bad intentions.

 Bryant used his tried and tested cover story when Tichin came out to see who was visiting. He told Tchin that his truck had overheated and he needed help. It was the same type of story he had used at other homes during his scouting phase. A young man with car trouble asking for assistance appearing to be in a difficult situation through no fault of his own.

 The story was designed to appeal to people’s natural desire to help others in need. Titan being a helpful and trusting person responded exactly as Bryant expected. He did not turn the young man away or view him with suspicion. He invited Bryant into his home, offering him a place to cool down while they figured out what to do about the truck.

This was how Tin had been raised and how he had lived his entire life. When someone needed help, you helped them. It was simple human decency. The two men talked for hours. Bryant had entered Teachon’s home in the afternoon, and they spent extended time together before the violence began. Bryant gained Tichon’s confidence during those hours of conversation.

The older man relaxed around his guest, treating him as he would treat any visitor to his home. He had no way of knowing that Bryant had been casing properties in the area for days. He had no idea that Bryant had a stolen handgun hidden on his person. As the afternoon wore on and the hours of conversation continued, Bryant waited for the right moment.

 He had spent time building trust, making teaching comfortable, ensuring that the older man would not be suspicious when Bryant made his move. Finally, Bryant made his move. He pulled out the stolen 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun, the same weapon he had used to shoot Clinton Brown, and murder Clifton Gay. Bryant shot Willard Titan.

 But unlike his previous victims, Bryant did not simply shoot Thin once or twice. He shot the 62-year-old man nine times. Nine bullets from a 40 caliber handgun tore through THN’s body, causing catastrophic damage. The number of shots was far beyond what was necessary to kill someone. One or two shots from that powerful handgun would have been fatal.

 Nine shots was overkill in the most literal sense of the word. The excessive number of shots suggested several possibilities about Bryant’s state of mind. After murdering Tietin, Bryant did not immediately flee the scene. Bryant walked through the house, ransacking it room by room, looking for valuables to steal. The burglary was thorough and methodical.

 He opened drawers and closets, checked under furniture and in cabinets, searched every place where something valuable might be hidden. He was not rushing or panicking. He was taking his time, treating the crime scene as if it were just another house to rob. He took jewelry off Tiettin’s finger, including his ring.

 This meant touching the dead man’s body, handling his hands, removing items from his person. The act required a complete absence of normal human feeling. Most people would be horrified at the thought of touching a person they had just killed. Bryant apparently felt nothing of the sort. The ring was valuable and he wanted it, so he took it.

 Bryant gathered power tools, electronics, and other items he could sell. Titchen had accumulated possessions over his 62 years of life, and now Bryant was picking through them like a shopper at a yard sale. Bryant then did something that demonstrated a disturbing comfort with what he had done. After collecting the items he wanted to steal, he did not leave.

Instead, he sat down at Tichon’s computer and used it to browse the internet. This was not someone trying to find information related to his escape or looking up anything practical. He was just using the computer to pass time, as if he were at home relaxing rather than at a murder scene. He smoked cigarettes and cigars that he found in the house.

 At some point during this time, Bryant committed an act so cruel that it shocked even experienced investigators who thought they had seen everything. He took a cigarette and used it to burn Titchen’s face and eyes. The torture was performed on a dead man, someone who could no longer feel pain. It served no practical purpose whatsoever.

 It was pure sadism, an act of cruelty for its own sake. As Bryant remained in the house doing whatever he pleased with Tietchan’s possessions and body, the victim’s family was trying to reach him. Tietchan’s wife Mildred and his daughter Kimberly both tried repeatedly to call him. They called his cell phone, expecting him to answer as he always did.

 Tchin was usually reliable about answering his phone, especially when his family called. He did not ignore their calls or let the phone ring. When Tin did not pick up, his family grew concerned. The first missed call might have been nothing. Perhaps he was in the shower or had left his phone in another room. But as the calls continued to go unanswered, worry set in.

 Around 5:30 in the evening, someone finally picked up Tetan’s cell phone. The family’s relief at finally reaching him lasted only a moment because it was not Tien who answered. The man on the other end of the line did not pretend to be a friend or neighbor who had found Tietan’s phone. He did not make up a story to explain why he was answering.

 Instead, he identified himself as the Prowler and delivered devastating news. TJ was dead. Just like that, in a few casual words, a stranger informed Mildred that her husband had been murdered. The phone call that was supposed to bring relief instead brought the worst news of her life. Mildred was stunned.

 The casual cruelty of the statement was almost incomprehensible. This stranger had murdered her husband, a man she had been married to for nearly four decades, and was now taunting her with the information. He was not apologetic or even neutral. He seemed to take pleasure in telling her what he had done.

 The man who had killed her husband was enjoying her pain. Shortly after Mildred’s call, Kimberly De’s tried her father’s number again. This was the sixth time she had called that afternoon, and with each unanswered call, her worry had increased. Something was very wrong. Her father always answered his phone when she called. The silence was deafening and terrifying.

When someone finally picked up on this sixth call, Kimberly braced herself for whatever news was coming. She immediately asked to speak to her father. The voice on the other end responded in a way that made no sense given the circumstances. I’m having a wonderful day. How are you? The cheerful tone was grotesque, obscene given what had happened.

 This was someone who had just murdered an innocent man, and he was making small talk as if nothing was wrong. The disconnect between his tone and the reality of the situation was deeply disturbing. Kimberly, confused and alarmed, insisted on speaking to her father. She did not know yet what had happened, but she knew something was very wrong.

The voice on the other end delivered the news with the same casual cruelty he had shown Mildred. You can’t. I killed him. Four words that destroyed Kimberly’s world. You can’t. I killed him. Her father was dead, murdered by the stranger on the phone. Kimberly refused to believe what she was hearing. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

 People do not call you on your father’s phone and tell you they killed him. This isn’t funny. Who are you? She demanded. She wanted answers. She wanted this to be a prank, a mistake, anything other than what it sounded like. The voice responded simply. I’m the Prowler. She asked again, desperately seeking a different answer.

 Excuse me, who are you? The voice repeated the same words. I’m the Prowler. He offered no other information, no explanation, no humanity. Just those three words repeated like a character from a horror movie. I’m the Prowler. The conversation was brief, but would haunt Kimberly for the rest of her life. Before leaving Tetan’s home, Bryant engaged in one more act of sadism that would shock investigators and jurors alike.

 He found a pot holder in the house, an ordinary kitchen item that held special meaning. This particular pot holder had been made by Kimberly when she was a child, a handmade gift from daughter to father. Tiain had kept it all these years, a reminder of his daughter’s love and the happy times they had shared together.

Bryant dipped the pot holder into Tichin’s blood and used it to write a message on the wall. The words smeared across the wall in blood read, “Victim 4 in two weeks. Catch me if you can.” The misspelling of victim showed Bryant’s limited education, but the message itself showed something far more disturbing.

 He was keeping count of his victims and taunting law enforcement to try to stop him. He left additional notes around the crime scene, each one more disturbing than the last. On the table, he left a note that read, “Good luck finding me.” Lm fao. The internet abbreviation for laughing my ass off showed that Bryant found the situation amusing.

 He was laughing at the police, laughing at the investigation, laughing at the death of an innocent man. The murder was funny to him. Another note was placed in a manila envelope on Tichin’s chest. Directly on the dead man’s body. This note read, “I am the light. I am so bright. I am the sun. Yours truly, the Prowler.” The words sounded almost religious or poetic, but coming from a killer, they were deeply unsettling.

 Bryant had given himself a name, the Prowler, and was signing his notes like an artist signing his work. On the evening of October 11th, 2004, Major Gary Mets of the Sumpter County Sheriff’s Office received a call from Than’s family. They had received disturbing phone calls from someone claiming to be at Tichan’s home, and they feared something terrible had happened.

 Deputies were dispatched to the residence on Kain Savannah Road to conduct a welfare check. When they arrived at the isolated property, they found evidence that something was very wrong. The house had been ransacked. Drawers were pulled open, belongings were scattered, and valuables were clearly missing. As deputies moved through the home, they discovered Willard Tachin’s body.

 He had been shot nine times. His face and eyes showed evidence of cigarette burns. Lit candles had been placed around his body in a Macabber display. The crime scene was one of the most disturbing that veteran investigators had encountered. On the walls, deputies found taunting messages written in blood.

 The reference to victim 4 in 2 weeks was particularly chilling because it suggested that the killer had committed other murders recently and was planning more. The message catch me if we can was a direct challenge to law enforcement. At a press conference the following day, Sheriff Tommy Mims addressed this taunt directly, telling reporters in the community at the TH residence, he left a message on the wall that challenged law enforcement, “Catch me if you can.

” And I’m happy to say that law enforcement has responded to that challenge. Deputies immediately recognized potential connections between Tchin’s murder and the recent violence in the area. On Wednesday morning, October 13th, 2004, the Sumpter County community was already living in terror. Law enforcement officers were everywhere, patrolling the dirt roads and warning residents to be careful around strangers.

 Despite all the warnings and all the fear, Bryant was about to claim his final victim. The community’s terror was justified. The killer they feared was still out there, and he was not finished yet. 35-year-old Christopher Earl Burgess woke up that Wednesday morning with no idea it would be his last day alive. Burgess was a man who enjoyed the simple pleasures of life in rural South Carolina.

 He loved riding his motorcycle through the countryside, feeling the wind and enjoying the freedom that comes with an open road. The motorcycle was more than just transportation for Burgess. It was a source of joy, a way to experience the beautiful landscape of the area he called home. That Wednesday morning, Burgess stopped at a convenience store in Sumpter County.

 It was the kind of routine stop that people make every day without thinking about it. He needed to pick something up, maybe gas for his motorcycle or something to drink. The convenience store was a gathering place for the local community, somewhere people stopped to chat with neighbors and catch up on local news.

There was nothing unusual about the visit. Burgess had arrived at the store on his motorcycle, which he often rode around the area. The bike was parked outside where anyone could see it. It was a nice motorcycle, the kind of thing that might catch someone’s eye. For Steven Bryant, who was also at the convenience store that morning, the motorcycle represented an opportunity.

It was something he could steal and sell. Another way to get money for drugs. Inside the store, Burgess encountered Steven Bryant. What exactly transpired between them is unknown. The store clerk watched the interaction between the two men. Nothing seemed threatening or suspicious. Two guys talking in a convenience store was the most normal thing in the world.

 People did it every day. Tihound. After their conversation inside, the store clerk watched as Burgess and Bryant walked outside together. They seemed friendly, like two people who had just met and hit it off. Outside the convenience store, something happened that would seal Burgess’s fate. He and Bryant loaded Burgess’s motorcycle into the back of Bryant’s blue and white pickup truck.

 This was a significant decision. Loading a motorcycle into a truck is not a quick or easy task. It takes time and effort. It means trusting the other person enough to put your valuable property in their vehicle. Burgess clearly trusted Brian enough to do this. The clerk observed this activity through the store window.

 Watching two people load a motorcycle was interesting enough to catch the clerk’s attention. The two men drove off together in Bryant’s truck, heading out into the rural roads that crisscrossed the countryside east of Colombia. The same dirt roads where Bryant had scouted properties where he had murdered Clifton Gay, where fear now gripped every resident.

 Burgess sat in the passenger seat, probably unaware of the danger he was in. He had no way of knowing that the friendly stranger driving the truck had already killed two people in the past 5 days. The truck wound through the rural landscape, passing fields and forests, traveling deeper into the isolated countryside near Manchester State Forest.

 The area was sparssely populated with few houses and even fewer witnesses. Anyone driving by might not think twice about a pickup truck on a dirt road. It was exactly the kind of anonymity Bryant needed to do what he planned to do. At some point during the drive, Bryant stopped the truck.

 Whatever reason he gave, Burgess did not question it. He had no reason to be suspicious of the man who had seemed so friendly at the convenience store. Both men got out of the truck and stood on the isolated dirt road. Like Gayy before him, Burgess walked to the side of the road. Perhaps he needed to relieve himself after the drive.

 Perhaps he wanted to stretch his legs after sitting in the truck. Whatever the reason, he walked a short distance from the vehicle and turned his back to Bryant. In that moment of vulnerability, with his back turned and his guard completely down, Burgess became the next victim of the Prowler. Bryant raised the stolen 40 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun, the same weapon that had been used to shoot Clinton Brown, murder Clifton Gay, and kill Willard Taichin.

 The gun had already taken two lives and wounded a third person. Now it would claim its final victim. Bryant aimed at Burgess’s back just as he had aimed at Brown and Gayy. He preferred to shoot people when they were not looking, when they could not defend themselves or even see what was coming. Bryant fired the weapon.

 The bullet struck Burgess in the chest, tearing through his body. But Bryant was not finished. He fired again, this time hitting Burgess in the head. The two shots were fatal. Burgess collapsed on the side of the dirt road, dead before he hit the ground. His life ended on an isolated road near Manchester State Forest, murdered by a man he had met less than an hour earlier.

 Bryant left Burgess’s body on the side of the dirt road, just as he had left Gayy’s body on Bell’s Mill Road. He did not try to hide the body or bury it or move it somewhere less visible. He simply left his victim in the dirt and drove away. The callousness was stunning. Burgess was just another obstacle Bryant had removed.

 Another person whose death meant nothing to him. But this time, Bryant took something with him. Burgess’s motorcycle was still in the back of the truck. Bryant drove away with the motorcycle, planning to sell it or use it himself. The murderer had given him access to something valuable, and he intended to keep it. The stolen motorcycle would prove to be a crucial mistake.

 Unlike his previous crimes where Bryant had tried to destroy evidence by burning Ganyy’s trailer, this time he kept physical evidence that could be traced back to the victim. A hunter passing through the area later that Wednesday morning made a terrible discovery. Walking through the rural landscape near Manchester State Forest, the hunter came across something that did not belong.

 A body lay on the side of the dirt road, clearly dead from gunshot wounds. The peaceful morning of hunting had turned into a nightmare. The hunter immediately called law enforcement to report what had been found. Deputies responded to the scene as quickly as they could. When they arrived, they found Christopher Burgess lying on the rural road, the third murder victim in less than a week.

The scene was grimly familiar to investigators who had worked the Gayy and Taichin murders. Another body on an isolated dirt road. Another victim shot without warning. Another family that would receive the worst possible news. Investigators processed the crime scene looking for any evidence that might help them catch the killer.

 Unlike the Tichin murder, there were no taunting notes or messages written in blood. Bryant had not stayed at this scene to torture the body or taunt the family. The people of Sumpter County now faced an undeniable reality. A serial killer was operating in their community. By Wednesday afternoon, October 13th, 2004, law enforcement had connected the dots.

Multiple witnesses had reported seeing a blue and white pickup truck in the area of various crimes. Debbie Durant had taken down a license plate number when a suspicious man visited her property. The clerk at the convenience store had seen Christopher Burgess leave with a man driving a similar truck.

 All the evidence pointed to a single vehicle and therefore likely a single perpetrator. Deputies ran the license plate number and traced it to Steven Corey Bryant, age 23, living at his girlfriend’s home in Wedgefield at the Wilds Mobile Home Park on Eagle Road. Bryant had a criminal record for burglary and was currently on probation.

 His history of property crimes and his current financial situation made him a viable suspect for the burglaries. More importantly, his connection to Clifton Gayy through their former employment together provided a potential link to at least one of the murders. Sheriff’s deputies, working with assistance from other law enforcement agencies, set up surveillance on Bryant’s residents.

They wanted to arrest him as quickly as possible, but also needed to ensure they didn’t lose him if he tried to flee. The investigation moved rapidly as detectives gathered evidence and prepared arrest warrants. On Wednesday afternoon, October 13th, deputies moved in to make the arrest. Bryant was at his girlfriend’s home when deputies arrived.

He did not resist arrest, surrendering peacefully when confronted by law enforcement. Deputies took him into custody and transported him to the Sumpter County Sheriff’s Office for questioning. A search of his residence and vehicle turned up evidence linking him to the crimes, including items stolen from Taichin’s home.

 The 40 caliber Smith and Wesson used in all four shootings was recovered and ballistics tests would confirm it was the murder weapon. Deputies questioned Steven Bryant through the afternoon and into the early hours of Thursday, October 14th, 2004. He was formally taken to the jail around 3:00 in the morning.

 During the interrogation, Bryant confessed to the crimes. He admitted to the burglaries, the shootings, the murders, and the arson at Clifton Gayy’s trailer. His confession provided investigators with details that only the perpetrator would know, corroborating the physical evidence that had been collected at the various crime scenes.

When asked about his motives, Bryant offered explanations that investigators found unconvincing. He claimed that his victims had threatened him, suggesting that he had acted in self-defense or in response to perceived danger. However, investigators found no evidence to support these claims.

 Clinton Brown had been shot in the back while fishing. Clifton Gayy had been shot while relieving himself on the side of a road. Christopher Burgess had been shot after voluntarily getting into Bryant’s truck. Willard Taichen had invited Bryant into his home to help him. On Thursday, October 14th, 2004, Bryant made his first court appearance.

The Sumpter County Sheriff’s Department formally charged him with three counts of murder for the deaths of Clifton Gay, Willard Tchin, and Christopher Burgess. Additional charges followed as the investigation continued. He was charged with two counts of firstdegree burglary, two counts of assault and battery with intent to kill, secondderee burglary, seconddegree arson, armed robbery, and possession of a weapon during the commission of a violent crime.

 The community reacted to news of Bryant’s arrest with a mixture of relief and shock. Relief because the person responsible for terrorizing rural Sumpter County was in custody and could no longer hurt anyone. shock because many people who knew Bryant described him as a nice person and could not reconcile his outwardly pleasant demeanor with the horrific crimes he had committed.

 His landlord and former workplace supervisor told investigators they were stunned to learn of his arrest. In the aftermath of the murders, three families in Sumpter County were left to grieve their devastating losses. Clifton Gayy’s mother, brother, ex-wife, two sons, Christopher and Michael, and two step-daughters were left without the man who had loved them deeply and moved to Sumpter specifically to be near them.

Terresa Becker, a friend of one victim’s family, spoke for many when she said, “Maybe now we can begin to get on with our lives. Not a day goes by when we don’t think about what happened.” The Gayy family released a statement describing their loss. Cliff was a good-hearted person who loved his sons and step-daughters very much.

 He moved to Sumpter a little over a year ago from Shira just to be near his sons Christopher and Michael. He was a simple man who would never harm anyone. Garris Vanney Ga’s former employer who had also employed Bryant spoke about losing a good friend and employee. Steve never did anything while he was working with me to indicate that he was capable of the things he’s done.

 Barney said, still trying to process the betrayal. Willard Tutchin’s family was left to cope with the particularly cruel nature of his murder. His wife Mildred and daughter Kimberly Dees had both spoken to their husband and father’s killer on the phone, hearing him taunt them about the murder. Tiain’s mother, Anna Patricia Girtton Titchen, and his brother, Burnt, also mourned his loss.

Kimberly testified later about how her 5-year-old son tried to comfort her after learning that his grandfather had been murdered, telling her he would always stay with her so nobody could ever murder her. The berieved families petitioned the state to provide financial aid to cover funeral expenses. The sudden and violent nature of the deaths had left the families not only emotionally devastated, but also facing unexpected financial burdens.

 The Gayy family specifically asked for assistance through Varner Construction and Elmore Hill McCrae Funeral Home in Sumpter. The community came together to support the families, but no amount of financial help could ease the pain of their losses. While awaiting trial at the Sumpter Lee Regional Detention Center, Steven Bryant’s violent behavior continued.

 In October 2005, exactly one year after his final murder, Bryant attacked a correctional officer. According to court records, Bryant punched the officer multiple times and continued to beat him even after the officer collapsed. The assault was serious enough that additional criminal charges were filed against Bryant.

 The detention center arranged for his transfer to another facility following the attack, recognizing that he posed a significant security risk. Earlier that same month, Bryant had thrown urine at the door of a fellow inmate’s prison cell. The urine splashed onto the inmate’s hands and shirt, creating a degrading and unsanitary situation.

 This type of behavior, while perhaps less physically dangerous than his assault on the correctional officer, demonstrated a pattern of aggression and lack of respect for others that would continue throughout his incarceration. These incidents at the jail reinforced what experts had already observed about Bryant.

 He displayed antisocial behavior, was impulsive, had poor problem-solving abilities, and appeared to have little capacity for empathy or remorse. A psychiatrist who examined him testified that Bryant suffered from paranoia and had an antisocial personality disorder with depressed mood. The diagnosis helped explain his behavior, but did not excuse it.

 The pattern of violence continued even when Bryant knew he was under constant surveillance and facing potential death penalty charges. In April 2007, Sumpter County prosecutor Kelly Jackson announced that the state would seek the death penalty for Steven Bryant. The decision was based on the heinous nature of the crimes, particularly the murder of Willard Tchin, which involved torture, burglary, and taunting of the victim’s family.

 On August 8th, 2008, Bryant made a significant legal decision. He plead guilty to all three counts of murder and nine other lesser charges. There was no plea deal. Prosecutor Jackson made it clear that the state had not negotiated any agreement with the defense in exchange for Bryant’s guilty plea. Instead, by pleading guilty, Bryant moved the proceedings directly from trial phase to sentencing phase.

 This meant that a judge rather than a jury would determine whether Bryant would receive the death penalty or life in prison. The sentencing trial was scheduled to begin on September 2nd, 2008. During the sentencing phase, Bryant’s defense attorneys presented extensive mitigating evidence. They called witnesses who testified about Bryant’s troubled childhood, including the sexual abuse he had suffered, beginning at age six, from multiple male relatives.

 His aunt Terry Calder described the torture she saw in Bryant’s eyes in the months before the murders, explaining that he was reliving the abuse, and suffering deeply. Mental health experts testified that Bryant had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, attention deficit disorder, and chronic depression.

 The defense also presented evidence about Bryant’s prenatal brain damage. Although Bryant’s mother refused to cooperate with his defense attorneys and would not confirm whether she had used alcohol and drugs during her pregnancy, experts testified about the likely effects of such exposure. On September 11th, 2008, Circuit Judge Thomas Russo sentenced 27year-old Steven Bryant for the murder of Willard Tiken.

Bryant was sentenced to death for the murders of Clifton Gay and Christopher Burgess. He received two life sentences without the possibility of parole. For his other crimes, including the burglaries, arson, and assault on the correctional officer, Bryant received an additional 100 years in prison. Judge Russo’s decision came after careful consideration of both the aggravating and mitigating circumstances.

The prosecution had argued that the killings were premeditated and that Bryant had mercilessly killed his victims. After his sentencing, Steven Bryant was transported to the Broad River Correctional Institution where South Carolina houses its death row inmates. He would spend the next 17 years there.

 From 2008 until his execution in 2025. During those years, Bryant continued to display violent behavior. He was disciplined twice for offenses in prison. Once in 2009 for fighting without a weapon and again in 2023 for possessing a weapon. These incidents showed that even on death row, Bryant struggled with impulse control and aggression.

 Bryant’s legal team immediately began the appeals process that is standard in death penalty cases. On January 7th, 2011, the South Carolina Supreme Court dismissed Bryant’s direct appeal against his death sentence. The court found that his claims lacked merit and that the trial court had properly considered all relevant factors in imposing the death sentence.

 This first appeal would be followed by many others over the next 14 years. In their appeals, Brian’s attorneys argued that his trial council had been ineffective in presenting mitigating evidence. They contended that a more thorough investigation would have uncovered stronger evidence of fetal alcohol spectrum disorder and other developmental disabilities.

 They pointed to a 2024 interview with a clinical psychologist in which Bryant described abuse he had suffered from male relatives, his mother, a preacher’s wife, and several strippers in his neighborhood before he became a teenager. This newly uncovered evidence, they argued, should have been presented at sentencing. On January 28th, 2025, Bryant lost his appeal to the fourth US Circuit Court of Appeals.

 The court rejected his claims of intellectual disabilities and fetal alcohol spectrum disorder, finding that even if such evidence had been presented, it would not have changed the outcome given the calculated nature of his crimes. On October 14th, 2025, the US Supreme Court declined to review Bryant’s death sentence, exhausting his final avenue of regular appeals.

 On October 17th, 2025, the South Carolina Supreme Court signed a death warrant for Steven Bryant. The document set his execution date for November 14th, 2025, less than 1 month away. After 21 years on death row after countless appeals and legal battles, the end was finally in sight.

 The state of South Carolina was ready to carry out the sentence that had been imposed back in 2008. Under South Carolina state law, prisoners facing execution were allowed to choose how they would die. The state offered three options: firing squad, lethal injection, or the electric chair. This choice was relatively new. South Carolina had added the firing squad as an option in 2021 after years of struggling to obtain the drugs needed for lethal injection.

 The state wanted to make sure it could carry out executions even when pharmaceutical companies refused to sell them. from the necessary chemicals. Bryant was given a deadline of October 31st, 2025 to make his choice. If he failed to choose by that date, he would be executed by electric chair by default. The electric chair had been South Carolina’s traditional method of execution for decades, but it was considered by many to be more painful and gruesome than the alternatives.

Most inmates who were given the choice preferred something else. Bryant chose the firing squad. His decision made him the third inmate in South Carolina to select this method since the state resumed executions in 2024. Brad Sigman had been first executed by firing squad in March 2025 in the first such execution in the United States since 2010.

Mikl Motti had been second executed by the same method in April 2025. Now Bryant would follow in their footsteps, facing three riflemen in the death chamber at Broad River Correctional Institution. Bryant’s attorneys did not give up even after the death warrant was signed. They continued fighting for his life, filing appeals and motions in the hope of stopping the execution.

 On November 6th, 2025, just 8 days before the scheduled execution, they filed a final appeal to the South Carolina Supreme Court. They asked the court to stay the execution, to pause it, while they presented new arguments about Bryant’s mental condition. The defense lawyers argued that Bryant’s criminal conduct was a direct result of his mother’s alcohol and drug use during pregnancy.

They had been making this argument for years, but now they claimed to have newly discovered evidence that strengthened their case. The brain damage caused by fetal alcohol spectrum disorder, they argued, had affected Bryant’s ability to be a law-abiding citizen. His brain simply did not work the way a normal person’s brain worked.

 He could not control his impulses or make good decisions the way other people could. The attorneys also argued that the trial judge who sentenced Bryant to death had never fully considered the extent of his developmental disabilities. They claimed that important evidence about Bryant’s mental condition had not been properly presented during the original trial.

If the judge had known how severely damaged Bryant’s brain was, they argued he might have imposed a different sentence. The defense wanted a chance to present this evidence and have Bryant’s sentence reconsidered. The prosecution saw things very differently. They responded to the defense’s appeal with a forceful argument of their own.

Bryant’s murderous and sadistic actions, they said, were deliberate acts of evil. This was not a case of someone who could not control himself or did not know what he was doing. Bryant had been methodical in his crimes. He had been cunning in the way he approached his victims and gained their trust.

 He had taken pleasure in his deadly rampage, as evidenced by the taunting phone calls to victims families and the messages written in blood. The prosecutors pointed to the careful planning that had gone into Bryant’s crime spree. He had spent days driving around rural Sumpter County, scouting properties and looking for targets.

 He had developed cover stories to explain his presence when he approached isolated homes. He had stolen a gun specifically to use in his crimes. He had killed his victims in isolated locations where there would be no witnesses. None of this suggested someone who was unable to control his actions or make decisions. On November 11th, 2025, just 3 days before the scheduled execution, the South Carolina Supreme Court rejected Bryant’s final appeal.

 The decision was unanimous with all the justices agreeing that there was no reason to stop the execution. In their written opinion, the justices addressed the defense’s arguments about brain damage and developmental disabilities headon. With the final appeal rejected, there was nothing left to stop the execution. Bryant’s attorneys had exhausted every legal avenue available to them.

 The United States Supreme Court had already declined to review his case back in October. The South Carolina Supreme Court had now rejected his final appeal. The governor had the power to grant clemency, but no South Carolina governor had done so since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976. Bryant’s fate was sealed.

 On Wednesday, November 13th, 2025, Bryant ate his final meal. This was a tradition in American executions dating back centuries. Condemned prisoners were allowed to request a meal of their choosing before their death. Some inmates asked for simple comfort foods from their childhood. Others requested elaborate feasts they had never been able to afford in their regular lives.

The meal was a small gesture of humanity in an otherwise grim process. Bryant’s request was elaborate and specific. He asked for spicy mixed seafood stir fry served over rice. He wanted fried fish, also served over rice. He requested two egg rolls and three stuffed shrimp. He asked for duck prepared in soy sauce.

For dessert and snacks, he wanted two zero candy bars and a slice of German chocolate cake. To wash it all down, he requested two Pepsis. It was an Asian- themed meal, reflecting tastes he had developed at some point in his life. Bryant consumed this elaborate meal on Wednesday evening.

 The food gave him one last night to prepare for what awaited him the following day. On Friday afternoon, prison officials began the process of preparing Bryant for execution. He was moved from his regular cell to a holding area closer to the death chamber. He was given the opportunity to speak with his attorneys and any approved visitors one final time.

 He was offered the services of a chaplain if he wanted spiritual guidance in his final hours. The bureaucracy of death moved forward with practice deficiency. At the appointed time, Steven Bryant was taken to the death chamber at the Broad River Correctional Institution in Colombia. The death chamber was a small room specifically designed for executions.

 It contained the equipment necessary for all three methods of execution available in South Carolina. the electric chair, the apparatus for lethal injection, and the chair used for firing squad executions. Today, only the firing squad equipment would be used. When media witnesses arrived, and the curtain was drawn back to reveal the death chamber, Bryant was already strapped to the execution chair.

 The chair was a heavy wooden seat with restraints at multiple points. Bryant’s feet were shackled to prevent any movement. His arms were strapped behind him and secured to the chair. His head was restrained by a sling that wrapped around his chin, keeping him from moving his head or looking down at his chest. Bryant wore a black jumpsuit, the standard clothing for executions in South Carolina.

 Over his hands, guards had placed mittens. This was done to prevent the condemned prisoner from making any gestures or removing any of the equipment attached to his body. The mittens ensured that Bryant’s hands were useless, that he could do nothing but sit and wait for what was coming. A small white target with a red bullseye was affixed to Bryant’s chest.

 The target marked the location of his heart, giving the riflemen a precise point to aim at. The goal was for all three shots to hit the heart simultaneously, causing immediate death. The target was designed to be visible from the small openings in the wall where the riflemen would stand with their weapons. 10 witnesses were present for the execution.

This was a relatively small number compared to some executions, but it included all the people who had the strongest connection to the case. Three family members of Bryant’s victims were there, having waited 21 years to see justice carried out. They held hands throughout the procedure, supporting each other through the difficult experience of watching a man die, even a man who had caused them so much pain.

Also present was one of Bryant’s attorneys, there to serve as a witness on behalf of the condemned man. Bryant briefly glanced toward the witnesses when the curtain was drawn back. For a moment, his eyes swept across the faces of the people who had come to watch him die. Among them were family members of the man he had murdered, people whose lives he had destroyed with his violence.

 But Bryant did not react to their presence. His face remained expressionless, giving no indication of what he was thinking or feeling. Bryant made no final statement. Many condemned prisoners used their last moments to speak, to apologize to their victims, to proclaim their innocence, to pray, or to make some final comment about their lives. Bryant chose silence.

 Whether this was because he had nothing to say, because he had already said everything he wanted to say to his attorneys, or because he simply could not find the words is unknown. He sat in the execution chair, restrained and hooded, and said nothing. His breathing remained normal as guards prepared for the execution.

 There were no signs of panic or distress. Bryant had known this moment was coming for years. He had chosen the method of his death. Whatever emotions he was experiencing, he kept them inside. The witnesses watching could see only a man sitting in a chair, breathing steadily, waiting for his life to end. At 6:00 in the evening, guards placed a hood over Bryant’s head.

 The black fabric covered his face completely, blocking his vision and hiding his expression from the witnesses. The hood served multiple purposes. It prevented the condemned man from seeing the moment when the shots were fired. It also spared the witnesses from having to see his face at the moment of death. The hood was a barrier between Bryant and the world, separating him from everything he was about to leave behind.

About 1 minute after the hood was placed, guards raised the shade that separated the death chamber from the room where the riflemen waited. Behind a wall hidden from view of the witnesses, three volunteer prison employees stood with their weapons. They were corrections officers who had volunteered for this duty, knowing what it entailed.

Each held a rifle loaded with live ammunition. All three weapons contained real bullets, so no riflemen could know whether his shot was the fatal one. The riflemen aimed at the target on Bryant’s chest through small openings in the wall. They could see only the target, not Bryant’s hooded face, not the witnesses watching.

 Their job was simple. Fire at the Red Bullseye when given the signal. They had trained for this moment, practicing their aim to ensure accuracy. The lives of condemned prisoners depended on their marksmanship. A clean shot to the heart meant a quick death. A missed shot could mean prolonged suffering. At 6:02 p.m., the signal was given and the marksman fired simultaneously.

Three rifles discharged at the same moment, sending three bullets toward the target on Bryant’s chest from 15 ft away. The sound of the gunshots echoed through the death chamber, loud and sharp and final. The impact of the bullets sent the bullseye target flying off Bryant’s chest, knocked loose by the force of the shots.

 A pool of wetness emerged where the bullets had struck. Blood soaking through the black fabric of Bryant’s jumpsuit. Bryant made no sound when the bullets hit him. There was no scream, no cry, no gasp. The shots had struck their target, hitting his heart and causing massive internal damage. Whatever pain he experienced lasted only a moment before his body began to shut down.

 The silence in the death chamber was broken only by the aftermath of the gunshots and the quiet sounds of Bryant’s body responding to the trauma it had just suffered. He appeared to take several more shallow breaths after being shot. His chest rose and fell weakly, his body’s automatic response continuing, even as his heart stopped pumping blood.

 These breaths grew weaker and less frequent as the seconds passed. Then about a minute after he was shot, Bryant experienced a single spasm. His body jerked once in the chair, a final involuntary movement, and then was still. A doctor stepped forward to examine Bryant. This was a necessary part of the process. A medical professional confirming that the execution had been successful.

 The doctor approached the chair where Bryant sat motionless, the hood still covering his face, blood staining his chest. Using a stethoscope, the doctor listened for any heartbeat, any sign of life. He examined Bryant carefully, taking approximately 1 minute to complete his assessment. At 6:05 p.m., the doctor pronounced Steven Bryant dead.

 The execution had taken just 3 minutes from the firing of the shots to the official declaration of death. Steven Corey Bryant, who had killed three people over 8 days in October 2004, was dead at age 44. The state of South Carolina had carried out its sentence. The legal system had reached its final conclusion.

The Prowler would never hurt anyone again. Outside the prison, a small group of death penalty protesters had gathered. About 20 people stood outside the gates of the Broad River Correctional Complex, bearing witness to what was happening inside and speaking against the practice of capital punishment.

 They lit candles and held signs expressing their opposition to executions. For them, Bryant’s death was not justice, but another act of violence, the state killing in response to killing. Bo King, one of Bryant’s attorneys, released a statement following the execution. King had represented Bryant through his final appeals, fighting to save his life, even when the odds were impossible.

 The statement reflected the complicated relationship that develops between defense attorneys and their condemned clients. King had spent years getting to know Bryant, understanding his background, and advocating for his life. King noted that Bryant’s final wish was that no one else would face rejection when seeking mental health support due to inability to pay.

This referred to Bryant’s experience in September 2004, just weeks before his crime spree began when he had sought help for his psychological problems and been turned away because he could not afford treatment. Bryant had carried that experience with him to the execution chamber, hoping that his death might somehow prevent others from falling through the same cracks in the system.

 King described Bryant in surprisingly warm terms. He said Bryant had shown grace and courage in forgiving his family, the same family members who had abused him throughout his childhood. The ability to forgive such terrible treatment suggested a capacity for growth and change that Bryant had developed during his years on death row.

King also mentioned Bryant’s great love for those inside and outside of prison. Relationships he had built during his two decades of incarceration. The attorney said they would remember Bryant’s unlikely friendships, connections he had made with fellow inmates, guards, and others during his time behind bars.

 They would remember his fierce protectiveness, a quality that had perhaps been twisted into violence during his crime spree, but had found healthier expression in prison. They would remember his love for nature, the water, and the world. Interests that had sustained him during the monotony of death row.

 King concluded simply, “We will miss him.” These words might seem strange to the families of Bryant’s victims. How could anyone miss a man who had murdered three people and terrorized a community? But King’s statement reflected a truth about the death penalty that many people found uncomfortable. Condemned prisoners were human beings capable of growth and change, capable of forming relationships and touching the lives of others.

 Executing them meant ending those lives with all their complexity and contradiction. Bryant was the seventh person executed in South Carolina since the state resumed capital punishment in September 2024 after a 13-year hiatus. If this story moved you, consider subscribing to No Way Out. Every week, we bring you comprehensive documentaries about the most significant death penalty cases in American history.

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