My name is Billy Austin. I'm Twenty-Nine years old. I was born in Oklahoma. Quarter Cherokee I'm told. Don't remember Oklahoma. Been so long since I left home. Seems like I've always been in prison. Like I've always been alone. Didn't mean to hurt nobody. Never thought I'd cross that line. I held up a filling station. Like I'd done a hundred times. The kid done like I told him. He lay face down on the floor. guess I'll never know what made me. Turn and walk back through that door. The shot rang out like thunder. My ears rang like a bell. No one came runnin'. So I called the cops myself. Took their time to get there. And I guess I could'a run. I knew I should be feeling something. But I never shed tear one. I didn't even make the papers. 'Cause I only killed one man. but my trial was over quickly. And then the long hard wait began. Court appointed lawyer. Couldn't look me in the eye. He just stood up and closed his briefcase. When they sentenced me to die. Now my waitin's over. As the final hour drags by. I ain't about to tell you. That I don't deserve to die. But there's twenty-seven men here. Mostly black brown and poor. Most of em are guilty. Who are you to say for sure?. So when the preacher comes to get me. And they shave off all my hair. Could you take that long walk with me. Knowing hell is waitin' there. Could you pull that switch yourself sir. With a sure and steady hand. Could you still tell youself. That you're better than I am. My name is Billy Austin. I'm twenty-nine years old. I was born in Oklahoma. Quarter Cherokee I'm told