Excerpt from book, “Drifting On A Headwind” by Jim Harlan:

Finally the cell door opened and in walked a priest dressed in his Sunday best. Like the Federales, he never looked at me. In a low voice, he began to read me “The Last Rights.” Even at my young age, I realized that everyone knows when he is guilty. This time I was not, and, for this reason, I elected not to panic. The priest never made eye contact with me, which struck me as very odd. About an hour later three Federales entered my cell and began their predictable interrogation. All three were portly and looked as if they had been drinking heavily for decades. Their uniforms were torn, their shirts were hanging out, and I could see the rust on their guns.”

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