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Unformatted text preview: field Correctional Facility" in very small letters over the pocket. He also wore black cowboy boots and no gun whatsoever. She explained that some of the guards who handled the prisoners on work release had the option of carrying a weapon. It was hard to imagine a white man in Mississippi voluntarily declining to carry a gun if given the option, but she suspected that perhaps Danny didn't want his own personal guard to be armed. Danny was wearing white dungarees and a white shirt, possibly issued by the camp. The two enjoyed a long lunch and appeared to be good friends. From her car, Darla watched them leave the diner. She followed from a distance as they took a leisurely stroll for a few blocks until Danny entered a building that housed the regional office of the Mississippi Highway Department. The guard got into a camp vehicle and drove away. The following morning, Darla's mother entered the building under the pretext of filing a complaint about a road in need of repair. She was rudely informed that no such procedure existed, and in the ensuing brouhaha managed to catch a glimpse of the young man Dark had carefully described. He was holding a clipboard and appeared to be just another useless pencil pusher. Darla's mother had a friend whose son worked as a clerk at the Broomfield camp. He confirmed that Danny Padgitt had been moved there in the summer of 1974. When she finished with the story, she said, "Are you going to expose him?" I was reeling, but I could already see the story. "I will investigate," I said. "Depends on what I find." "Please do. This ain't right." "It's unbelievable." "That little punk should be on death row." "I agree." "I did eight murder trials for Judge Loopus, and that one really sticks with me." "Me too." She swore me to secrecy again, and left her address. She wanted a copy of the paper if we did the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit...
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- Spring '10