The Nitrogen Hypoxia Execution of Jesse Hoffman Jr.: The Murder of Molly Elliott, 26 Years on Death Row, and Louisiana’s First Execution in 15 Years
In accordance with the execution order issued by the 22nd Judicial District Court in St. Tammany Parish, the laws of the state of Louisiana, and the rulings from the state and federal courts, the execution of death row inmate Jesse Hoffman Jr. was carried out between 6:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m. on March 18, 2025, via nitrogen hypoxia at the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola. At exactly 6:50 p.m., he was pronounced dead.
This is the full story of Jesse Dean Hoffman Jr. — who he was, the calculated murder he committed at eighteen, the twenty-six years he spent on death row where he became a Buddhist, a father, and a man his attorneys described as “unrecognizable,” the legal battle that went all the way to a 5-4 U.S. Supreme Court vote, and what his final minutes looked like inside the death chamber. It is also the story of Mary “Molly” Elliott, the 28-year-old advertising executive who never made it home from work on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving in 1996. This one is heavy. Stay with it.
The Crime
November 26, 1996. New Orleans, Louisiana. The city was loud and layered with its usual life in the week of Thanksgiving. Mary Elliott — Molly to everyone who loved her — was twenty-eight, smart, professional, building a career in advertising. She had just finished her workday and walked into the Sheraton parking garage downtown, the same garage she used every single day. It was routine. She never made it home.
Working the valet shift that evening was Jesse Dean Hoffman Jr., eighteen years old, only three weeks on the job. When Molly arrived, Hoffman pulled a gun. He forced her into her own car at gunpoint. He made her stop at an ATM and withdraw cash. Then he ordered her to drive. He directed her out of New Orleans, across the water, into the remote rural stretches of St. Tammany Parish.
Out there, far from anyone who could help, Hoffman raped Molly Elliott. Then he killed her.
She had done nothing wrong. She had simply gone to get her car.
Investigators followed the evidence straight back to the parking garage and the young valet. Hoffman was arrested and charged with first-degree murder. The case moved quickly.
Trial and Death Row
On September 11, 1998, Jesse Hoffman Jr. was convicted of first-degree murder. He was nineteen years old when he arrived on death row at the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola — one of the most isolated prisons in America. He would spend the next twenty-six years there.
During that time, something happened that his legal team would return to again and again. In 2002, six years into his sentence, Hoffman began practicing Buddhism. He embraced meditative breathing, mindfulness, and spiritual discipline. He became known among the prison population as a calming presence and a leader. He became a father; his son, Jesse Smith, had been a newborn at the time of the trial and grew up visiting his father through prison glass. His attorneys described him as a man who spent nearly three decades proving people can change. His lead attorney, Caroline Tillman, said he no longer resembled the eighteen-year-old who had committed the crime.
Louisiana, however, was focused on the crime itself.
The state had not carried out an execution since January 2010, when Gerald Bordelon was put to death. For fifteen years, more than fifty people sat on death row while pharmaceutical companies refused to supply lethal-injection drugs. Louisiana simply stopped. Then, in 2024, Governor Jeff Landry signed a bill authorizing nitrogen hypoxia as a legal alternative. Hoffman was chosen as the first man Louisiana would execute using the new method.
The Final Legal Battle
Hoffman’s attorneys fought hard. They argued that nitrogen hypoxia amounted to cruel and unusual punishment, citing visible distress in previous executions in Alabama. They also raised a religious-freedom claim: as a committed Buddhist whose practice centered on controlled breathing, the forced inhalation of pure nitrogen violated his faith. Lower courts issued a temporary stay. The U.S. Supreme Court ultimately voted 5-4 to allow the execution to proceed.
In the days before March 18, 2025, Hoffman was moved from his death-row cell to an isolated holding cell in Camp F. He told a court hearing the separation was deeply difficult. He had roughly fifty steps to walk from that cell to the death chamber.
Outside the prison gates, supporters held vigils in New Orleans churches and protesters gathered in the spring heat. His sister sat beneath an oak tree near the entrance, holding photographs of her brother and weeping. His son spoke at a rally, pleading for his father’s life. Inside, Hoffman met with his Buddhist spiritual adviser, Reverend Raimoku Gregory Smith, who would stay with him until the end.
Three hours before the execution, a supporter who visited him described a calm handshake, an embrace, and steady eye contact. Hoffman spoke proudly of his son. He was breathing, present, doing his best to be at peace.
The Execution
At approximately 6:12 p.m., after the U.S. Supreme Court denied the final appeal, Hoffman was escorted the short distance to the death chamber. Seven designated witnesses filed in. A waft of spring flowers and low Buddhist chanting filled the entryway as his spiritual adviser began to chant.
Hoffman was strapped to the gurney. A full-face respirator mask was fitted tightly over his face. At 6:20 p.m. he was offered the chance to make a final statement. He declined. He said nothing.
One minute later, at 6:21 p.m., the nitrogen gas began to flow.
Witnesses described what happened next: his breathing became uneven, his chest rose, his body jerked, he shook, his fingers twitched, his hands clenched and pulled at the table. Around 6:27 p.m. — roughly six minutes after the gas started — he stopped moving. The gas continued to flow for the full required time: at least fifteen minutes or five minutes after a flatline on the EKG, whichever was longer. No electrical activity was detected in his heart after fourteen minutes. The gas ran for nineteen minutes total.
A prison official with a medical background who observed the process said, “I do not believe he was conscious when that occurred. He was clinically dead very quickly.” Louisiana officials called the execution flawless. Other witnesses described visible physical distress that was difficult to watch.
At 6:50 p.m., the West Feliciana Parish Coroner pronounced Jesse Dean Hoffman Jr. dead. He was the first person executed in Louisiana in fifteen years and the fifth person in U.S. history to die by nitrogen hypoxia.
The Last Meal and Last Words
His last meal? He requested none. His final words? He had none. When given the formal opportunity to speak to the witnesses, he chose silence.
Aftermath and the Questions That Remain
Reactions split along predictable lines. Hoffman’s attorneys were devastated. Cecilia Capo, director of the Center for Social Justice at Loyola University, called him a father, a husband, and a man of extraordinary redemption who no longer resembled the teenager who committed the crime. Caroline Tillman said the state had taken the life of a man who was deeply loved and who had brought light to those around him. His son would have to carry the outcome for the rest of his life.
Governor Jeff Landry was blunt: “If you commit heinous acts of violence in this state, it will cost you your life, plain and simple.” Attorney General Liz Murrill said she expected at least four more executions from Louisiana’s death row that year. More than fifty-five people remain there.
Molly Elliott’s family faced the complicated truth that grief is not always satisfied by another death. Some family members reportedly expressed that the execution would not bring them peace — a sentiment more common than many admit.
Mary “Molly” Elliott was twenty-eight years old when she died on November 26, 1996. She never got a final meal. She never got to offer a final statement. She never got to say goodbye.
Jesse Hoffman Jr. was executed at 6:50 p.m. on March 18, 2025. He said nothing. He ate nothing. He simply breathed until he couldn’t.
This case is the story of one brutal crime, one young woman whose life was taken in a parking garage, and one man who spent twenty-six years becoming someone his supporters say was worthy of mercy. It is also the story of a state that paused executions for fifteen years not out of mercy but because it ran out of drugs, then resumed them the moment a new method became available. And it is the story of nitrogen hypoxia — now used five times in the United States — where officials call it flawless and witnesses describe visible distress.
