“So you tell me... did this execution really make you feel safer? Did it bring us all closer together? Or did it drive us further apart?”

“I don't have children. I can't say I'd feel the same way if one of them was killed. And I don't have the answers-believe me, if I did, I'd be a lot richer-but you know, I'm starting to think that's okay. Maybe instead of looking for answers, we ought to be asking some questions instead. Like: What's the lesson we're teaching here? What if it's different every time? What if justice isn't equal to due process? Because at the end of the day, this is what we're left with: a victim, who's become a file to be dealt with, instead of a little girls, or a husband. An inmate who doesn't want to know the name of a correctional officer's child because that makes the relationship too personal. A warden who carries out executions even if he doesn't think they should happen in principle. And and ACLU lawyer who's suppose to go to the office, close the case, and move on. What we're left with is death, with the humanity removed from it." I hesitated a moment. "So you tell me...did this execution really make you feel safer? Did it bring us all together? Or did it drive us further apart?”

“Love is the most dangerous craving of all, if you ask me. It turns us into people we aren't. It makes us feel like hell, and makes us walk on water. It ruins us for anything else.”

“What you didn't tell someone was just as debilitating as what you did.”

“Did you ever walk through a room that's packed with people, and feel so lonely you can hardly take the next step?”

“In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own. Or at least this is what I tell myself.”

“Did you ever think that maybe what you see isn't really what's true?”