Phyllis Price Tueller never imagined she’d oppose the execution of the man who took her son’s life. But now, reflecting on decades of grief, she’s candidly admitting that justice for her didn’t mean Aaron Gunches dying peacefully—it meant him enduring prolonged agony.
Ted Price, a devoted father of two and just 40 years old, was at a crossroads, trying to rebuild his life in 2002. Determined to create a better future, he relocated temporarily from Utah to Arizona to pursue training as a radiology technician. Ted viewed this step as the first chapter in a hopeful new beginning.
Unfortunately, his fresh start swiftly devolved into tragedy. Staying temporarily with his ex-partner in Arizona, Ted was confronted with a bleak reality—she had spiraled into a life entangled with drugs. A heated confrontation about her lifestyle quickly escalated into violence. Her new boyfriend, Aaron Gunches, took matters violently into his own hands.
On a desolate stretch of Arizona desert near Mesa, Gunches, then barely in his twenties, executed Ted Price in cold blood. Four gunshots echoed in the silence of the night, ending Ted’s promising journey abruptly.
Gunches eventually confessed to first-degree murder, swiftly landing himself on Arizona’s death row in 2007. But the wheels of justice spun slowly. For over twenty agonizing years, Ted’s family waited, caught in a relentless tug-of-war with the judicial system, forced to relive their trauma repeatedly as the execution faced numerous delays and bureaucratic entanglements.
Finally, on Wednesday, March 19, 2025, Gunches met his fate via lethal injection at Arizona State Prison in Florence. Ironically, Gunches himself had previously asked for a quicker execution back in 2022, declaring his death “long overdue.” But the state, conducting a comprehensive review of execution protocols, stalled the process.
Yet, remarkably, Phyllis found no solace in the swift finality of Gunches’ death. Instead, she openly admitted in heartfelt interviews before his execution that what she truly desired was not a rapid end but a slow, lifelong reckoning.
“I feel like he’s getting exactly what he wants,” Phyllis explained bitterly. “He’s exhausted from decades on death row, and now he’s escaping all that. It doesn’t seem like justice to me.” Her voice wavered with raw emotion, and she continued, “Death feels too merciful. I wanted him alive, suffering daily, trapped in remorse.”
On the day of Gunches’ execution, two IV lines fed pentobarbital into his veins. After 17 silent minutes, he was pronounced dead, with no final words uttered. Prison officials and witnesses described the event as disturbingly serene and notably efficient. Veteran journalist Michael Kiefer even noted it as “the smoothest execution” he’d witnessed—a troubling comfort.
Arizona Attorney General Kris Maye, however, sought to frame the event differently, emphasizing closure and justice for the Price family. Yet Phyllis was clear that this brand of closure wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for. The endless pain of losing her son remained untouched.
“Yes, there’s relief,” Phyllis confessed, her voice weary but resolute. “But it’s relief from legal wrangling, constant interviews, paperwork, and anxiety—not relief from losing Ted. There’s no real healing in death; only silence remains.”
Ted’s daughter, Brittney Price, shared a slightly different perspective. Although the pain was equally profound for her, she saw the execution as the definitive conclusion of a torturous, decades-long chapter. “I’ve carried this emotional burden for most of my life,” she explained. “At least today, the weight of uncertainty has been lifted, and I’m grateful for that small mercy.”
Curiously, the convicted murderer enjoyed an indulgent final meal—a double western bacon cheeseburger, accompanied by sandwiches, fries, onion rings, and even a serving of baklava. Phyllis remarked bitterly on this irony, noting the absurdity of granting last comforts to a man who destroyed so much.
Though the state’s attorney general asserted the execution would deliver justice and closure, the Price family remains divided. For Phyllis, a swift, clinical execution doesn’t align with her sense of justice, leaving a void no official narrative could ever fill.
As Phyllis grappled publicly with her complex emotions, her words resonated deeply with countless others who’ve also found themselves torn between wanting punishment and realizing no earthly punishment can ever truly undo the damage caused by such a horrific crime.
Phyllis’ raw honesty forces society to question what genuine justice looks like, prompting broader reflections on the morality and efficacy of capital punishment. Her struggle mirrors the painful reality faced by families nationwide: that the finality of execution often fails to deliver genuine closure or peace.
Ultimately, Phyllis’ heartbreakingly honest revelation reminds us that behind every legal proceeding and judicial ruling lies human suffering, profound emotional turmoil, and an enduring search for answers and peace—a peace that sometimes feels forever unattainable.