A few years ago, I began to write Texas death row inmate Christopher Wilkins. From the beginning, I could tell that Wilkins was very calculated disturbed person. In the midst of such danger, I still made the decision to serve Wilkins as a spiritual guide. After writing for some time, Wilkins invited me to visit him on death row. I will never forget those first few moments. The metal door swung open. Wilkins had his head down as the guards took off the handcuffs. After Wilkins reached his seat, his head popped up. As I squirmed in my chair, Wilkins looked straight at me without blinking. Time seemed to stop. After Wilkins grabbed the phone, we began to talk. Over the course of the visit, Wilkins described his crimes in an emotionless fashion. With every sentence, it became increasingly clear that Wilkins had committed many more murders than he was convicted of. I had never encountered such evil. Trying to bring some level of some level of spirituality to the conversation, I mentioned that forgiveness was possible. Wilkins declared that he didn't need it. By the time the door swung back open. I was ready to go. When I returned home, my wife showed me a disturbing piece of mail that had arrived in the mail earlier that morning. It was an inappropriate letter to my wife from Wilkins. I was shocked. Though, I shouldn't have been. Wilkins sought to make sure that the letter arrived while I was visiting him. Needless to say, our relationship soured from there. The more I learned about Wilkins, the more I realized how limitless evil can be. In the coming hours, the State of Texas will try to execute Christopher Wilkins. If we kill him, we will be just like him.
Amen.