Three O’Clock ExecutionBy: S. R. Betler
The clock outside chimed three times as Mr. Devlin clicked the recorder on and took his seat at the metal table.
“Today is the eighth of April, at three o’clock.” His words were crisp and biting, as chilly and sterile as the visiting room. “Will you state your name for the record, please?”
“Maurice Oyler.” The chains clinked against the table as he wrung his hands.
“Do I have your permission to record this?”
“Yes.”
“Then, let’s begin, shall we? As you know, I’m Matthew Devlin. I’m conducting some research on death row inmates. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Well, you were very persistent.” It wasn’t a compliment. In fact, Mr. Devlin had become downright insufferable, and if Mo had to die, which the state was determined to make happen, he
