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

claimed to be my “bodyguard.”
    In the evenings I often went to Deanna’s house. Her family was very pleasant, a proper and quiet southern family. They invited me into their home and allowed me to take part in their routine. Sometimes we’d watch movies, play games, or listen to music. Nothing harder than country music was allowed in the house, and watching MTV was an offense that would get Deanna and her two sisters grounded. Deanna’s parents could be very strict and even intolerant at times. After all the bad stuff went down, I thought they were evil tyrants who wanted to force religion down the throats of their children while ruling them with an iron fist. I still believe that’s an accurate picture in many ways, and I often heard Deanna make declarations of hatred against her mother, but all the years that have passed have given me a new perspective. They were looking out for their children in the best way they knew. I can see both sides of the coin now.
    In the beginning they accepted me as family. I didn’t realize the honor I was receiving, because I’d never known anything like it before. I’d never met a girlfriend’s family. Every time there was a family gathering I was invited. It was so long ago that most of the memories have faded away and only the feeling remains. I can recall only a few of the more powerful ones. I remember being at their Christmas party, where Deanna gave me a stuffed gorilla and a tin of Hershey’s Kisses. We sat next to the fireplace eating chocolate while the rest of the family laughed and celebrated all around us.
    Deanna was secretly a pagan, she told me quite soon after we met. What was called a witch in the old days. A Wiccan. I had never before heard the term. All that I knew of “witches” was what I had read in the old books that said they flew to meetings where they danced with the devil and cursed crops or caused babies to be born with birthmarks. I knew only the nonsense—that all religions outside Christianity are at best misguided, and at worst, satanic—passed down by the Catholic Church and the Inquisition. She kept a small green diary filled with all sorts of things: names of ancient, pre-Christian goddesses; plants and their medicinal purposes; and prayers written in flowery verse.
    This was just before Wicca exploded in popularity (and notoriety) in the United States. Now there are many books written on the subject every year, and it is recognized by the United States Department of Defense as a valid religion. Times have changed. Back then I had no idea that such a religion existed. I was amazed and flabbergasted.
    I began doing my own research into Wicca, reading about it and even meeting a group of local teens who were followers of the religion. They were a good source of information, but I couldn’t stand being around them. They were all extremely flaky and melodramatic. I felt embarrassed for them, as they didn’t have the sense to realize how socially inept they were. Wicca is a beautiful religion in theory, but I distanced myself from anything to do with it because I couldn’t take the people. Many of them are people in their thirties who still try to live and behave like teenagers. Wicca seems to draw a great many people who cannot or will not grow up.
    It did serve as a springboard into other areas of knowledge later, though. I’ve since learned much more about Kabbalah, Hinduism, Buddhism, meditation, yoga, the tarot, Theosophy, Tantra, Taoism, the Rosicrucians, the Knights Templar, and the Hermetic practices of the Golden Dawn. At the time, I couldn’t get enough, and devoured what I could on Wicca. I found it infinitely fascinating for a great while, not knowing my curiosity and interest would one day be used against me in court.
    The beginning of the end came when Deanna’s parents found out we’d been having sex. We would get away with it for a while, but a simple mistake gave us away.
    The very first time, we planned it out. When she was dropped off at school I was there to meet her. We immediately left and walked to my place. We took a back path, following railroad tracks that kept us out of view of passing cars but also tripled the distance we had to cover. It took an hour to get there, and when we arrived we went straight into my room, where we stayed for the rest of the day. My mother and Jack both knew, but neither cared. Fittingly enough, the sound track that played in the background was Suicidal Tendencies singing “How