Muhammad, a man who directed what many law enforcement officials consider one of the worst outbreaks of crime in the nation's history, died in Virginia's death chamber while relatives of his victims looked on. Unlike his victims, Muhammad knew when and how he was going to die. He and Jamaican immigrant Lee Boyd Malvo, then 17, killed 10 people in the Washington area during a terrifying October 2002 rampage; they also have been linked to shootings in several other states.

State authorities escorted Muhammad, in denim and flip-flops, into a small room at the Greensville Correctional Center and strapped him to a cross-shaped table. He was then injected with a series of lethal drugs beginning at 9:06 p.m., and he was pronounced dead at 9:11. Although he maintained his innocence to the end, Muhammad, 48, ignored a request to make a final statement.

For his last meal he ate chicken with red sauce and cake, said one of his lawyers, J. Wyndal Gordon.

Larry Traylor, a spokesman for the Virginia Department of Corrections, said that Muhammad declined to meet with a spiritual adviser, but he did spend time with immediate family members.

Muhammad showed no emotion in the death chamber. When the curtain opened, his head was tilted to the right, and his eyes were closed. Asked whether he wanted to say anything, he did not respond.

Using a single .223-caliber sniper rifle and a modified Chevrolet sedan that authorities have called "a killing machine," Muhammad and Malvo injected fear into the mundane tasks their victims were performing as they were hit: pumping gas, shopping, walking to school, mowing lawns, going to a restaurant. Malvo is serving a life sentence without parole.

The killings began with no explanation. Then the snipers left cryptic notes and phone messages demanding $10 million, just as millions of Washington area residents were distracted by white vans and other delusions that authorities were mistakenly chasing.

The shootings caused Washingtonians to change their daily rhythms. People zigzagged through parking lots and instructed their children to duck down in cars while at gas stations. Schools canceled recess and football games. The shootings were so frightening because they were so random.

In the end, Muhammad and Malvo were tracked down because of a fingerprint left at an Alabama shooting referred to in one of the notes the snipers left behind. Investigators put that together with Muhammad's purchase of the dark-blue Chevy in New Jersey, a stolen Bushmaster rifle from Washington state, and an alert truck driver who noticed the Caprice at a highway rest stop in Maryland.

Despite scores of witnesses and hundreds of pieces of evidence - the sum of which pointed directly at Muhammad and Malvo and led to capital murder convictions - law enforcement officials have not pinned down a solid motive and cannot say for sure who fired the fatal shots.

Muhammad's ex-wife, who lived with his children in the Maryland suburbs, where many of the shootings occurred, has speculated that he did it to frighten, or even kill, her.

Prosecutors relied on untested Virginia terrorism laws that allowed them to seek convictions even if they could not prove which of the two suspects fired the gun.

In the 2003 trial in Virginia Beach, Muhammad represented himself for the first two days, making rambling but cogent points about the fact that no one saw him shoot a single bullet. His attorneys later took over, but jurors ultimately convicted him.

Muhammad was put to death for a single killing - the Oct. 9, 2002, sniper slaying of Dean Harold Meyers of Gaithersburg, Md., who was shot while he pumped gas into his Mazda at a Sunoco station outside Manassas.

Meyers' brother, Bob Meyers, of Phoenixville, said that watching the execution was a point of closure but that he was "overcome by the sadness that the whole situation generates in my heart."

"Honestly it was surreal," he said on CNN's Larry King Live. "Watching the life being sapped out of somebody intentionally was very different."

Kenneth Bridges' daughter, Alana, was 15 when her father, a Philadelphia resident, was slain as he gassed up his car in Fredericksburg, Va.

"We never followed the trial," she said yesterday, explaining that the sniper's fate changes nothing for the family. "At the end of the day, my dad is not here."

Now a senior at Pennsylvania State University, majoring in finance, Alana, the second youngest of the six Bridges children, said she had not given much thought to Muhammad's execution. "I think I speak for all of us when I say it's between God and him."

Federal authorities, who could have allowed Muhammad to be tried in any of the jurisdictions that saw a sniper slaying, chose the Meyers case because Prince William Commonwealth's Attorney Paul B. Ebert had a stellar record in capital cases - he had sent a dozen people to Virginia's death row - and Virginia was known for its speedy appeals process.

The decision paid off. Just six years after Muhammad's conviction, he was put to death, having exhausted every legal option. The Supreme Court denied his final request for a stay Monday, and Virginia Democratic Gov. Timothy Kaine rejected his clemency request yesterday.

Associated Press.