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t just any prisoner； but one who had been tried and convicted for the murder of two little girls； and sentenced to die for the crime。 My belief that he was innocent wouldn't matter if we were caught； we would go to jail ourselves； and probably Dean Stanton would； too。 I had thrown over a life of work and belief because of one bad execution and because I believed the overgrown lummox sitting beside me might be able to cure a woman's inoperable brain tumor。 Yet watching john watch the stars； I realized with dismay that I no longer did believe that； if I ever really had； my urinary infection seemed faraway and unimportant now； as such harsh and painful things always do once they are past （if a woman could really remember how bad it hurt to have her first baby； my mother once said； she'd never have a second）。 As for Mr。 Jingles； wasn't it possible； even likely； that we had been wrong about how badly Percy had hurt him？ Or that John … who really did have some kind of hypnotic power； there was no doubt of that much； at least … had somehow fooled us into thinking we'd seen something we hadn't seen at all？ Then there was the matter of Hal Moores。 On the day I'd surprised him in his office； I'd encountered a palsied； weepy old man。 But I didn't think that was the truest side of the warden。 I thought the real Warden Moores was the man who'd once broken the wrist of a skatehound who tried to stab him； the man who had pointed out to me with cynical accuracy that Delacroix's nuts were going to cook no matter who was out front on the execution team。 Did I think that Hal Moores would stand meekly aside and let us bring a convicted child…murderer into his house to lay hands on his wife？
My doubt grew like a sickness as we rode along。 I simply did not understand why I had done th
