Billy Leon Kearse was condemned for the shooting death of Officer Danny Parrish during a traffic stop.
STARKE, FL — A man convicted of killing a Fort Pierce police officer with the officer’s own service weapon during a traffic stop in 1991 was executed Tuesday evening at Florida State Prison, authorities said. Billy Leon Kearse, 53, died by lethal injection after a three-drug protocol began shortly after 6 p.m.
The execution was Florida’s third this year and came after a surge of death warrants in the state last year. The case has long been cited by law enforcement as a stark example of the danger of routine traffic stops, while Kearse’s lawyers and opponents of the death penalty argued that his background and mental limitations should have spared him from execution. The state, backed by the governor’s office, said the punishment closed a decades-old case for the officer’s family and colleagues.
Officials said Kearse was pronounced dead at 6:24 p.m. at the prison near Starke, a rural community in north Florida. Witnesses reported that he was strapped to a gurney in the execution chamber and spoke briefly when asked for a final statement. Kearse offered an apology and asked for forgiveness from the family of the officer, Fort Pierce Police Officer Danny Parrish. “All I can do is ask for forgiveness,” Kearse said, speaking toward the witness room before the drugs were administered.
Parrish, a 29-year-old officer, was shot and killed Jan. 18, 1991, during a traffic stop in Fort Pierce, a coastal city on Florida’s Treasure Coast. Investigators said Parrish stopped Kearse’s vehicle after noticing a traffic violation and then asked him to step out. Prosecutors said a struggle followed and Kearse seized Parrish’s revolver, firing repeatedly at close range. The officer was hit multiple times, including through his body armor, according to court records described in the case. A taxi driver nearby heard the gunfire and used the officer’s radio to call for help, authorities said.
Kearse was convicted of first-degree murder and robbery with a firearm and was first sentenced to death in 1991. The Florida Supreme Court later ordered a new penalty phase after finding errors in the original sentencing, and Kearse was resentenced to death in 1997. In the years that followed, his attorneys filed multiple appeals in state and federal courts, raising arguments that included claims about intellectual disability and the fairness of prior proceedings. Courts rejected those claims, and the governor signed a death warrant setting Tuesday’s execution date at Florida State Prison, where the state carries out executions.
Florida uses lethal injection for its executions under a three-drug sequence that includes a sedative, a paralytic and a drug intended to stop the heart. Prison officials said the execution began just after 6 p.m. and proceeded without interruption. Media witnesses and other observers, including law enforcement representatives and relatives of the victim, watched through glass from an adjacent room. The state’s prison complex near Starke, sometimes referred to by locals as part of the “prison belt,” has long been the site of Florida’s executions.
For Parrish’s family, the day marked the end of a case that has shadowed their lives for more than three decades. Parrish’s widow, Mirtha Busbin, has spoken publicly about the moment she learned her husband had been shot and about the years of hearings that followed. She has worked as a victims advocate and has said the case never truly left her family, even as time passed and the legal process stretched on. After the execution, she described feeling a measure of peace and said she appreciated Kearse’s apology, according to accounts from witnesses.
Law enforcement leaders in Florida have repeatedly pointed to Parrish’s death when honoring officers killed in the line of duty and when arguing for stiff penalties in attacks on police. In Fort Pierce, Parrish’s name has remained familiar to officers who joined years after the shooting, a case taught in briefings and remembered at memorial events. Former colleagues and supporters have described Parrish as dedicated and family-oriented, and they have said the manner of his death, shot with his own service weapon, left a lasting impact on the department.
Kearse’s supporters and death penalty opponents argued the execution represented the system at its harshest, punishing a person for a crime committed shortly after he turned 18. Advocates cited his childhood, including poverty and abuse, and said those factors shaped his behavior in ways jurors should have weighed more heavily. They also raised questions about his intellectual functioning, arguing that people with significant cognitive limitations should not be executed. Prosecutors and the state responded that juries and reviewing courts had repeatedly considered the evidence and that the sentence was lawful under Florida and federal standards.
The pace of executions in Florida has drawn attention nationwide. Florida carried out 19 executions in 2025, its highest total in decades, after the governor signed a series of death warrants in quick succession. Across the United States, 47 executions were carried out in 2025, according to national tallies reported by multiple states. Florida’s actions stood out because it outpaced other states that still use capital punishment, and because the state’s scheduling placed several executions within weeks of each other.
This year, Florida has continued to set execution dates. Kearse’s death was the state’s third execution in 2026. State officials have already scheduled additional executions later this month, including one set for March 17 involving Michael Lee King, condemned for the 2008 kidnapping and killing of a mother of two. Another execution is set for March 31 for James Aren Duckett, a former police officer sentenced to die for the 1987 killing of an 11-year-old girl. The clustered dates reflect the governor’s stated goal of moving long-delayed sentences to completion.
Legal experts say cases that reach an execution date typically have traveled a long road through courts, including direct appeals, state post-conviction challenges and federal habeas review. Even late in the process, defense lawyers often file emergency motions, asking courts to consider new claims, new evidence or questions about how a state carries out lethal injection. States, in turn, argue that repeated filings prolong cases long after juries have reached verdicts, a debate that has shaped death penalty litigation for years. In Kearse’s case, courts declined to halt the execution, and the state proceeded Tuesday evening as scheduled.
Outside the prison, the atmosphere was restrained but tense, with law enforcement vehicles arriving before the scheduled start time and small clusters of observers gathering at a distance. Some people came to show support for the Parrish family and for police. Others came to oppose the death penalty, holding signs and speaking quietly among themselves. Florida State Prison has seen such scenes before: the last moments of an inmate’s life followed by a short, formal announcement from corrections officials and the dispersal of onlookers into the night.
In the end, the official record of the day was brief, even as the case itself has been long. A corrections spokesperson confirmed the time of death and the method, while witnesses recounted Kearse’s final statement and the stillness of the chamber once the procedure began. For the victim’s relatives and for officers who have marked the anniversary of Parrish’s death year after year, Tuesday’s execution was described as a closing chapter, not a replacement for what was lost.
Author note: Last updated March 3, 2026.