A Killer's Eyes: An interview essay with a convicted murderer

It was a cold, dark night in the middle of January. The world was silent at three in the morning and no one in their right mind would be out in the horrible snow, yet a lone, beat up, tan pick up truck drove quietly down Chestnut street. The tan demon slowed down and stopped in front of a darkened house. A young man slid out of the truck and silently into the pitch-black house. …

…time was up and said my good byes. I knew I probably wouldn't come back here again, and he really didn't expect me to. I walked out of the room, got my things, and went back to my car. As I sat there, I closed my eyes and remembered the guard's words. Be careful. I saw the looks in his eyes. He was hardened. He was a murderer, but somewhere underneath, he was still Dann.