I’m Ready To Tell The Truth About My Interviews With Graham Welsh, The Man Found Innocent After 20 Years On Death Row

What if I undid what Miranda did?

I thanked Miranda for her warning. Exchanged pleasantries. Said I would make sure I told her I was okay in a week or two and then started laying my trap.

I called Graham back a couple of days later, in the middle of the night.

“Graham…”

I let his name linger the way you would an egg on a hot grill you have no intention of flipping over easy before you eat it.

“Yes,” the knowing expectation in Graham’s answer made my skin crawl.

“Where are you, really?” I asked.

Long silence.

“Mississippi.”

“What about the New England tour?”

“It was one night outside of Boston. I’m back. I stretched the idea of the word ‘tour,’ is all. What’s up?”

“Too many drinks.”

A creepy little laugh leaked over the line.

“Yeah, I can get behind that,” Graham said. “Where at?”

“Your office. You can get in after hours, right?”

Another creepy laugh.

“I guess. I can bring a couple bottles. I might have to strip search you to make sure you don’t have any recording devices though.”

“You already drunk?” I asked.

“I was in pretty deep a few hours ago when I fell asleep, feel it a little bit now,” Graham answered.

“Take a few drinks before we meet up. Outside your office building good?” I asked.

“Hear ya loud and clear,” Graham said before we hung up.

beetlejuice

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