The Fear of 13 Page #3

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They were giving bass,

and it was wonderful.

These voices, yeah?

# I thank you, baby, yeah,

for respecting me, yeah

# I want to thank you, baby

# For telling me

# I want thank you for respecting me

# In a time of worry

# Thank you for calming my

troubles... #

GOSPEL-TYPE VOICES CONTINUE

FINGER-CLICKS KEEP BEA Then, out of nowhere...

# Ooh... #

.. we heard this woman's voice.

Dorothy Moore's Misty Blue.

# Ah... #

I thought, I swear to God, somebody

had gotten a radio in on B Block.

# Ah

# Looks like I'd get you... #

No-one really knew who it was that

was singing and then I figured it out.

Butch was six foot four and 240lbs.

He had a big jagged scar that ran

down the side of his face,

like from someone trying to cut his

head open.

I was terrified of this man.

# Oh, honey

# Just the mention of your name... #

To hear him sing in this beautiful

voice...

# Turns the flicker to a flame... #

.. as his way of showing love for someone

who was being taken from him the next morning

made me want someone to care for me

in that place so much

that they would sing, knowing that singing

would have gotten their head beat in.

They shipped Wesley that morning

at 3:
55am.

But the next day,

like a few guys were talking outside

of their cells to each other,

like a normal conversation,

and when the guard went by

he didn't tell them that they was going to

beat their brains in, he just simply said,

"Keep that down, the lieutenant

doesn't like it.

They weren't going to torture us

with silence any more.

CELL DOOR OPENS:

BUZZER:

Joe Bullen, my first appellate

attorney, God bless him,

got the attention

of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.

He didn't like me,

but he filed the appeal nonetheless

and got us the hearing

scheduled for February 20th.

I was excited to go to court,

you know.

Two Delaware County sheriffs

were waiting for me.

They come up,

they put the handcuffs on me.

Both men were in their 60s.

Two sweetheart guys who were already

bullshitting about basketball

and football and all this stuff

in Philadelphia.

They're giving me

updates on some things that

I haven't caught up on and people

back down in the county jail

who was going up

to the state prison.

We're talking about how damn

cold it is. It was bitterly cold.

In fact, it was the coldest

day of the year that year.

I'm sitting in the back

and we're driving along.

And we get down there

four-and-a-half hours later.

It's now about 4:30pm, almost

5:
00pm, and nearly pitch dark.

We pull in to go to the bathroom.

The driver drives past it

by like 25 yards.

We get out of the car and we're

hit with that blast of cold.

We run right over, the three of us,

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