 You know, it's that I don't know what I'd do. I'd probably be such a coward. How do you go to sleep? How do you wake up the next morning, even the day of his death? I remember waking up, and we were driving Tangola. The azaleas were blooming. It was early April. The dogwoods were blooming. All I could think was, this is too beautiful a day to kill anybody. How can they be killing this man inside?