David Hosier’s Last 24 Hours on Death Row EXPOSED me up and took me over to one house and I got they at least let me say goodbye to all the guys in our wing and in and the you know the guys that I knew over in Bwing over in the other half of our housing unit which was nice of them. I mean, I got least I uh got to say my farewells. I cannot honestly say that I believe in capital punishment. It does not do anything. The state says it’s illegal for us to kill somebody or for somebody to kill somebody, but yet they want to justify murdering somebody. And that’s all this is is an execution of state sanctioned murder and call it legal. Vengeance is mine, sayaeth the Lord. How can you show say you’re a Christian nation and justify the death penalty? So, no, I no longer believe and I and I probably have not for a long time, but I just it never was brought slammed at me like it is now. I can’t see by any justification the death penalty as being anything but cruel and inhumane treatment. >> Picture this. A high-speed chase through Oklahoma ends with a man stepping out of his vehicle, arms spread wide, taunting police officers with the chilling words, “Shoot me and get it over with.” Inside his car, authorities would discover an arsenal that would make headlines. 15 firearms, hundreds of rounds of ammunition, a bulletproof vest, and a Sten submachine gun. But most disturbing of all was a handwritten note on the front seat which reads, “If you are going with someone, do not lie to them. If you do not, this could happen to you.” This wasn’t the end of David Hoer story. It was the beginning of a 15-year journey to the death chamber. Welcome to Deadline Files. Please like, comment, and subscribe. Your support means a great deal, and it keeps these important stories alive. David Russell Hoer entered the world in 1955. Born into what seemed like a stable Indiana family. His father, Glenn Hoer, wore the badge of an Indiana State Police Sergeant with pride and honor. But tragedy has a way of reshaping young lives in the most devastating ways. When David was just 16 years old, his world shattered. His father was killed in the line of duty in 1971, leaving behind a grieving family and a traumatized teenager who would never be the same. The young man who had looked up to his law enforcement father was suddenly thrust into a military academy, trying to find structure in the chaos of loss. At 19, David enlisted in the US Navy, serving four to six years of active duty before receiving an honorable discharge. For a time, it seemed like military discipline and service might provide the stability he craved. He moved to Jefferson City, Missouri, where he built what appeared to be a respectable life as a firefighter and emergency medical technician. These were noble professions, saving lives, serving his community, following perhaps in his father’s footsteps of public service. But beneath the surface, David Hoer was slowly unraveling. Marriage came twice in David’s early adult years. The first ended in divorce by the time he left the Navy. In 1980, he remarried and had two children, a son and a daughter. For a brief moment, it seemed like he might have found happiness. But by 1987, this marriage too had crumbled. It was around this time that David’s mental health began its dramatic decline. The mid1 1980s brought diagnoses that would haunt him for decades. Depression with psychotic features and bipolar disorder. In 1987, his condition became so severe that he was involuntarily committed to a state psychiatric hospital. The hero who had once saved lives as a firefighter and EMT was now a patient struggling with his own inner demons. The 1990s brought more darkness. In 1992, David was arrested and convicted for assaulting a girlfriend, a violent incident that earned him 8 years in prison. He was parrolled in 1997, but the pattern was already established. Missouri officials would later describe him as having a decadesl long history of violence against women. By 2007, another blow struck. David suffered a stroke that caused brain damage, adding physical trauma to his already fragile mental state. By his early 50s, he was a broken man living in Jefferson City, a ticking time bomb, waiting for the right trigger. That trigger would come in the form of a woman named Angela Gilpin. Angela Ivonne Gilpin was 45 years old, married to Rodney Dean Gilpin, and the mother of two sons. She lived in the same Jefferson City neighborhood as David Hoer and what began as neighborly acquaintance would escalate into a dangerous obsession that would cost three people their lives. Angela and David began a long-term affair while Angela was separated from her husband Rodney. For David, this relationship became everything. Angela represented hope, love, perhaps even redemption. But affairs are complicated things and families have a way of calling their members home. By August 2009, Angela had made a decision that would seal everyone’s fate. She chose to reconcile with her husband. She and Rodney, who shared two sons in years of history, decided to repair their marriage and moved back in together. For most people, this would be a disappointment, perhaps a heartbreak. For David Hoer, it was a declaration of war. The threats began immediately. David made numerous threatening remarks about Angela, telling anyone who would listen that if he couldn’t have her, no one could.