Watching humanity go down the drain at Idaho’s firing squad facility | Opinion

Now is a puzzling time to be a freshly graduated architecture student in the state of Idaho. As I prepare to earn my license, I am alarmed by what I am seeing real time here in Idaho. It is disheartening to see my profession, which should uplift the public good, venture down the alley of state-sanctioned violence on more than one occasion.

Last year, we heard of a local firm’s contract with ICE, the government agency known for systemic due process violations and other unethical behavior. I will give the architecture firm the benefit of the doubt that it only agreed to update an administrative (not detention) building, but it is questionable to enter into a contract with an organization that is actively lying on record and violently violating due process rights of citizens and non-citizens alike.

More concerning to me is the disturbing decision made by Texas-based Elevatus Architecture, alongside Utah’s Okland Construction, to design a firing squad execution facility for the state of Idaho.

Architecture at its best simultaneously embodies and nurtures our collective values. At its most basic, it shelters human life. It is not meant to be an instrument of death. The American Institute of Architects recently amended its professional code of ethics to explicitly state this by barring its members from designing execution chambers.

It is easy to try and brush this off as just another government building. However, Worth Rises, a nonpartisan nonprofit organization that advocates against the over-commercialization of the criminal legal system, recently published correspondence from the Request For Proposal that Elevatus and Okland submitted to secure the contract with Idaho. The details are grotesque, and I have no doubt the few snippets of emails shared are barely the cusp of all the coordination that it will take to pull off its construction.

I come from a family of proud tradesmen and construction workers. My dad and uncles will proudly point out the buildings they have worked on that have helped shape this state — homes, schools, your favorite grocery store, a place of worship. For this reason, the thought of construction workers being asked to build a room where another human will be strapped down and shot makes my stomach turn. It forces them into a moral territory no job should require.

A plumber installing a floor drain should consider how the pipe will prevent flooding, manage rainwater or plumbing failures, not how it will help clean up what was once a human life.

State leaders have tried to shroud the reality of this proposal by insisting executions by firing squad are “instantaneous” and therefore more humane. But that claim collapses under even minimal inspection.

For example, the recent execution of Brad Sigmon in South Carolina paints a far grimmer picture. Reports describe the hood placed over his head, the visible rise and fall of his chest after the shots were fired, and the counseling services offered to witnesses after it was all over. If this process were truly humane, such measures would not be necessary.

This is not justice. It is state-sanctioned homicide dressed up as procedure. That reality should give pause not only to architects, but to every citizen whose tax dollars and labor will be implicated.

Beyond the moral cost, the financial argument is equally damning for Idaho. It is well documented that the death penalty costs taxpayers significantly more than sentencing someone to life in prison without parole. Lengthy appeals, specialized legal proceedings, and heightened security all add up. Now we are being asked to absorb an additional expense: what the Idaho Legislature thought would cost $750,000 has already ballooned to $1.3 million and growing. At a time when schools are underfunded, health care systems are strained, and housing is increasingly unaffordable, this is a grave misuse of public funds.

I now navigate an almost Orwellian professional landscape tarnished by the work of colleagues in my profession. As I do, I will hold onto the memories of my dad’s pride in his work and the long discussions with professors and classmates about how our profession can inspire the health, safe­ty and wel­fare of the pub­lic.

I wonder out loud to the many people in our local government, Elevatus Architecture, Okland Construction: What are you telling yourself as we flush out how this building will function and your part in it? I am familiar with the long, dull list of code requirements that any building needs to abide by before it’s approved.

But is that all we standing and aspiring architects are doing now? Checking off boxes? Putting people in boxes?

The state has already mistakenly answered the question of whether or not we can legally construct a firing squad. Which begs a new one: Should we build it? The answer, morally, financially and ethically, is no.

Kelsey Sagrero was born in Boise and raised in the Treasure Valley. She is a graduate of the University of Idaho and Portland State University.

This story was originally published January 15, 2026 at 4:00 AM.