On May 20, 2026, at 10:26 a.m., the State of Arizona carried out its first execution of the year, puting an end to a 24-year saga of horrific violence and prolonged legal battles. Leroy Dean McGill, 63, was pronounced dead after receiving a lethal injection of pentobarbital at the Arizona State Prison Complex in Florence. For the public, it was the termination of a monster’s life; for the justice system, it marked the closure of one of the most heinous acts of domestic vengeance in Arizona’s history. Yet, as McGill slipped into eternity, his bafflingly polite final words left an unforgettable, chilling echo: “I just want to thank everyone for being so accommodating and nice.”
The nightmare trace back to the summer of 2002 at a run-down apartment complex in North Phoenix. Tensions had been simmering for weeks between McGill and his neighbors, Charles Perez and Nova Bant. The flashpoint arrived when Perez accused McGill of stealing a shotgun, an allegation that led to McGill’s immediate eviction. Humiliated, unemployed, and homeless, McGill did not merely snap; he calculated a demonic retaliation.
On July 13, 2002, McGill returned to the complex with a deadly concoction: gasoline mixed with styrofoam. This combination creates a thick, adhesive substance that clings directly to human skin, burning deeper and longer—essentially acting as a crude, homemade napalm. Before entering the apartment, McGill cornered a neighbor, warning him to clear his family out, and threatened to murder the man’s young daughters if he alerted anyone. He then walked into the room where Perez and Bant sat defenseless, made a brief remark about them talking behind people’s backs, doused them in the sticky fuel, and struck a match.
The horrifying scene that followed was pure chaos. Both victims burst out of the apartment engulfed in roaring flames. While a neighbor managed to smother the fire on Bant with a blanket, Perez was not as fortunate. He suffered catastrophic burns across his body and succumbed to what doctors described as “extreme pain” the following day. Bant survived, but she was left with third-degree burns across 75 percent of her body—scars she would bear physically and emotionally for the rest of her life. McGill fled to Minnesota but was swiftly apprehended and extradited.
In 2004, a jury took less than an hour to find McGill guilty on all counts, including first-degree murder and arson, sentencing him to death. However, McGill’s case spent more than two decades in federal and state appellate courts, raising heavy legal disputes. The most controversial issue emerged during his final appeals: his federal public defenders discovered that the sentencing jury had been severely misinformed. Jurors were told that if they chose a life sentence instead of death, McGill could eventually be eligible for parole. In truth, Arizona had already abolished parole for capital cases at that time. Critics argued that had the jury known “life” meant McGill would truly never step foot outside a prison wall, they might have spared him the needle.
Ultimately, all legal avenues evaporated when the Arizona Supreme Court issued the execution warrant in early 2026. McGill waived his right to a clemency hearing and chose a simple final meal of onion rings, salad, and chocolate cake. In his final moments, there was no apology to Perez’s grieving family, no remorse expressed to the scarred survivor Nova Bant, and no declaration of innocence. There was only a chilling, casual expression of gratitude to his executioners, leaving a haunting reminder of the pure depravity that started it all.