He certainly didn’t look dangerous. He was perhaps the shortest prisoner on the wing, sitting uneasily on the edge of the chair in my office – itself a converted prison cell in a maximum security prison. In fact you could easily have overlooked him – he was thin, even emaciated. His eyes did not flash danger signals, like serial killers were supposed to – but he was undoubtedly the most dangerous individual there. Especially when, with precious little warning, he added me to his hit list.
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