Life After Death: The Shocking True Story of a Innocent Man on Death Row

we didn’t take into account the recent rains. Our feet punched through the thin glaze of ice, and the three of us were standing in ankle-deep water. But the shivering and teeth chattering barely dimmed our sense of excitement and we plodded on.
    When we finally made it to the tracks, not only was the tree house smashed but the whole rotten tree had fallen over. We continued on our way, following the tracks for about a mile, with the intention of making a full circle and ending up back at Jason’s trailer. We were quite a distance from any lights or trailers, and the night was silent. We talked about ghost tales and horror movies, urban legends and things we’d seen in Time-Life’s Mysteries of the Unknown books. Soon every hair on our necks was standing straight up and we were jumping at our own imaginations. We walked in a single file, Jason leading the way, Matt in the middle, and me bringing up the rear. Matt insisted on being in the middle so that nothing could sneak up on him. In quiet voices we discussed how some kid had claimed to see a dead man hopping back and forth across the train tracks on Halloween night. It was like we couldn’t keep from feeding our own terror. Sometime later I saw the movie
Stand by Me
and was overcome with nostalgia because of how much it reminded me of us.
    Back at the trailer, we peeled off our wet footwear and fell asleep in front of the TV watching
Headbangers Ball
. I’ll never forget a single thing about that night as long as I live. It’s part of what makes me who I am. I’ve often wondered if Jason and Matt have thought about it much over the years.
    As we grew older, the thrill of sneaking out lost much of its appeal because in such a small town there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do. Everything is closed by ten o’clock and there’s not much thrill in walking empty streets after the first time or two. Instead, we’d rent low-budget, straight-to-video horror movies every weekend and sit up all night watching them and making wisecracks. That was the closest thing to a “satanic orgy” I ever witnessed. The police had very vivid imaginations. I’m inclined to believe they may have seen a few too many of those cheap horror movies themselves.
    Often at the end of these festivities we’d collapse onto the bed and sleep until noon the next day. We couldn’t fall asleep without music. I never slept better than with Iron Maiden or Testament playing in the background.
    Over the years Jason and I became as close as brothers because we knew there was no one else to look out for us. We shared everything we had—food, clothes, money, whatever. If one of us had it, both of us had it. It was known without having to be said.
    After we were unceremoniously released from school for summer vacation every year, we would spend the long days sitting on the ragged dock in Jason’s backyard, fishing, feeding the ducks, or making foul comments and put-downs to whatever neighborhood teenagers showed up to hang out. Sometimes we’d play video games, stare blankly at the afternoon cartoons on television, pick at each other, or listen to one of the geniuses make prank calls. Other times we’d explore out-of-the-way places in search of snakes. In our neighborhood snakes were as valuable as cash and could be traded for anything. The days were slow and lazy, hot and long, each the same as the last. This was the extent of our lives, and we thought nothing would ever change.
    The first time I met Jessie Misskelley was completely unintentional. One day after school I knocked on Jason’s door, and Gail answered. Before I even asked, she said, “He’s not here, he’s at Jessie Misskelley’s.” She called him by his full name—Jessie Misskelley—and I would later learn that’s what everyone did.
    Leaving Jason’s front porch, I began to head back toward home, because I had no idea where “Jessie Misskelley’s” was. I’d heard the name before, and from the sounds of it he was supposed to be one of the Lakeshore badasses. About halfway down the street I heard Jason yell, and I looked to my left to see him standing in the open doorway of a trailer. It turned out that Jessie Misskelley lived only about four or five trailers down from Jason. I entered the gate and Jason led the way inside.
    The trailer appeared clean and kept up, no roaches or mice to be seen, and everything was in its place. Sitting in a living room chair next to the door was Jessie Misskelley. He was wearing