A Southern Psycho
-The faint soul demurs- ~1~ Late autumn leaves that had drifted in from the surrounding hills would occasionally come to life, stir crablike and scrape across the concrete surface of the prison yard. Attorney Bud Schultz entered the main gate along with a small number of visitors. He had come early at 8:30 A.M., just after prisoners’ roll call, so that he wouldn’t have to wait long to see his client, Ben None. The fat attorney had slack lips and drooping eyelids that hinted at relaxed...