I used to think, back when I was a new priest and a new psychologist, that men on death row, those facing the prospect of meeting the Lord sooner than most of us (or so we hope), were more likely to be truthful, especially to a priest. After all, they had nothing to lose and eternal salvation to gain. But time and happenstance were good teachers. And twenty years of lessons had taught me to doubt even the most ardent inmate’s story told in the most ardent fashion. Even stories that seemed plausible, which this one most definitely did not. In fact, this one seemed so implausible that I assumed J. Robert Coswell was setting up an insanity defense, hitching his hopes of changing the needle into life in a mental hospital onto my professional credentials rather than my clerical ones.
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