HUNTSVILLE, Texas — Matthew Lee Johnson, 49, was executed by lethal injection Tuesday evening for the brutal 2012 murder of Nancy Harris, a beloved 76-year-old convenience store clerk and great-grandmother. The execution, carried out at the Texas State Penitentiary in Huntsville, came exactly 13 years after the day he set Harris on fire during a robbery in Garland.
On that tragic morning, Johnson stormed into the store, doused Harris with lighter fluid, and ignited the flames that would ultimately take her life. Despite suffering catastrophic burns, Harris clung to life for several days—long enough to give police a description of her attacker.
In his 2013 trial, Johnson confessed and expressed deep remorse, blaming the attack on a crack cocaine binge. His defense team cited a history of childhood sexual abuse and lifelong substance addiction in hopes of sparing him the death penalty. But jurors found the crime too heinous to overlook. Appeals challenging the fairness of his sentencing were later denied, including a final request for clemency from the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles.
Johnson’s death marked Texas’ fourth execution of 2025 and the 18th nationwide. Coincidentally, it took place the same day Indiana executed Benjamin Ritchie in a separate case, and amid a wave of scheduled executions across the country—including Florida’s Glen Rogers and Tennessee’s Oscar Smith.
Nancy Harris was more than a victim—she was a fixture in her community. For over ten years, she worked just blocks from her home, known for her warmth and dedication. Her family remembers her as a strong and loving matriarch: a mother of four, grandmother of 11, and great-grandmother of seven. The senseless violence that ended her life left a permanent scar on those who loved her.
With the execution now complete, the long and painful legal journey comes to a close. But the case continues to stir debate around justice, mercy, and the role of the death penalty in modern America. For some, Johnson’s final words of remorse offered a measure of closure. For others, the shadow of that 2012 morning lingers still.
