“Killing is always wrong, Sam.”
“I know that now. Life has a new meaning when you’re on
death row.” Sam walked the length of the room. The chaplain
waited.
“There were a couple of lynchings, years ago,” Sam said,
unable to look Griffin in the eyes.
“Two?”
“I think. Maybe three. No, yes, there were three, but at the first
one I was just a kid, a small boy, and all I did was watch from the
bushes. So that doesn’t count, does it?”
“No.”