They brought me into their prison. I pretended to be a guard, or an inmate who could get access to the targeted prisoner and then I would covertly do away with their target. Choking was my most-common way of death – stage it as an incident of choking on food, or a hanging with a bedsheet or underwear or something – suicide was always reliable. A former hitman who knew all the tricks of the trade, I knew just how to do it. Getting caught for my hitman gig was how they found me, told me I would be facing the lethal injection myself if I didn’t take the job and the rest is history.

I was seamless until I was assigned to Phil LaRoche in the Georgia State Pen. Phil murdered the husband of the woman he unsuccessfully tried to lure away from her beloved preacher husband. He likely would have been sentenced to death, but being the step-son of a politician helped Phil score a plea deal that landed him life without parole instead.

What Phil’s senator step-daddy didn’t foresee was me connecting with a warden in Phil’s prison who just happened to be a devout follower of the preacher he killed. I was Phil’s roommate within a few days of being locked up.

I pulled off my usual routine. The biggest guy in just about every yard, tattooed and powerfully-built, I made my presence known right away by kicking the shit out of Phil at lunch.