When I heard about it on the local news, memories flooded through me like that shot that will make you or break you. His ghost seemed close enough to touch. That's what they found the most of in his bloodstream. After thinking about it for a few days, I decided I was glad he was gone. It was the way he'd wanted it.
Some people can only find freedom in death.
Because death waits patiently, until it's the only worthwhile option left. Since the good in life has long been destroyed, death is a final shot at redemption. An apology a request that all the badness will die with them. Somewhere there's got to be someone who can remember some good things about McCaskill. And as long as I am alive, I know there is something of him inside me.