“John Sampson, you came after all,” Ellis Cooper said as he saw us standing in a narrow corridor outside a special hearing room. The door was opened and we were let in by a pair of armed guards.

I sucked in a breath, but tried not to show it. Cooper's wrists and ankles were shackled with chains. He looked like a big, powerful slave.

Sampson went and hugged Cooper. He patted his friend's back and they looked like a couple of large, socialized bears. Cooper had on the orange-red jumpsuit that all of the death row inmates wore. He kept repeating, “So good to see you.”

When the two men finally pulled apart, Cooper's eyes were red and his cheeks wet. Sampson remained dry-eyed. I had never, ever seen John cry.

“This is the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long while,” Cooper said. “I didn't think anybody would come after the trial. I'm already dead to most of them.”

"I brought along somebody. This is Detective Alex

Cross,“ Sampson said, and turned my way. ”He's the best I know at homicide investigations."

“That's what I need,” said Cooper as he took my hand, 'the best."

“So tell us about all this awful craziness. Everything,” Sampson said. “Tell us from start to the finish. Your version, Coop.”

Sergeant Cooper nodded. “I want to. It will be good to tell it to somebody who isn't already convinced that I murdered those three women.”

“That's why we're here,” Sampson said. “Because you didn't murder the women.”

“That Friday was a payday,” Cooper began. "I should have gone straight home to my girlfriend, Marcia, but I had a few drinks at the club. I called Marcia around eight, I guess. She'd apparently gone out. She was probably ticked off at me. So I had another drink. Met up with a couple of buddies. I called my place again it was probably close to nine. Marcia was still out.