The horror of death row is that you die a little each day. The
waiting kills you. You live in a cage - and when you wake up, you
mark off another day and you tell yourself that you are now one
day closer to death. At times, death would be welcome. But there
is always hope, always the slight promise that in our strange
system of justice, someone somewhere will decide to reverse his
case. Every resident of the Row dreams of this. And their dreams
keep them alive from one miserable day to the next.
At nine-thirty, Sergeant Packer was looking for Sam. Packer
had two guards with him and some chains. Sam pointed at the
chains, and asked, “What are they for?”
“Security, Sam. We re taking you to the law library. Your lawyer
wants to meet you there.”
When Sam’s legs had been chained together, he walked stiffly
out of the cell with Packer at his side and guards following.
The law library was a small room with a good collection of
current law books. It was used only by death row inmates. Sam
had been there many times during the past nine years. The guards
removed his chains at the door.