My name is Will Biddle. I just want everyone to know that I've always owned up to the things I've done,

the bad things, and I try not to blame anyone for them. But I do think I have good in me, that good

can come out. And I believe that there are people in the world who can warp

that goodness too, push you down a path you were never meant for. Danny was like that for me.

If I'd never met Danny, maybe things would be different. He was just the worst possible person

to run across, way back when, like drawing a king when you're at 12 in Blackjack. Not three

months after I got out of Sugar Bay, he found my number at the halfway house somehow, and he called me.

Back in prison, we were separated by two wings and another level of security

because he was such bad news there. So he never had any contact, which was the very best thing

for me. I figured it would be that way forever. But then the weird, glitchy legal thing happened,

and all of a sudden he was free, just 12 years served.

And then, because our cases were so tied up together, not long after that, I was free too.

I remember my lawyer, this guy who looks barely old enough to drink, blowing on his glasses,

and saying, I should expect a new trial in a year or so.

And I couldn't get my head around that, the chance that I might have to go through it all over

again. If that day ever does come, I swear to God, they'll be cutting me down from the rafter

as the morning after the cuffs go on. Danny sounded sick over the phone, like lung sick. It was dark in the hallway

where the phone was, and I actually felt scared just at the sound of his breathing in the receiver

the first time I heard him talk in all those years. We had maybe 10 words of catching up,

and then he told me I had to come see him.

I said, well, I don't know, man.

I don't know how good an idea that is.

...