Around midnight last Friday the shoeless prisoner was roused from a nap and strapped into a chair. The guards put a patch over his heart, the firing squad’s target from 25 feet. Any last words?
“I do not. No.”
With that, a black hood was placed over the bald head of the condemned man, and the countdown began . . .
So begins Timothy Egan’s story of The Last Firing Squad. It merits your click.