LANESWORTH PRISON
May 18, 1972
My Dear Reece,
Or should I call you Teddy? That is your name, isn’t it? Theodore Small, born forty-two years ago in Fairhope, Alabama? It was your mother, I believe, who liked to call you Teddy. And curl your hair, I’ve been told. And dress you in lace.
But I digress …
The point I wish to make is achingly simple. I have broken no promise—I never would. It was Jason French who came for you, and he did it gratis.
But I digress again. Strange how that happens once there are so many thoughts to fill the mind …
Specifically, Teddy, my thoughts are of you, and of what might happen when next we meet. They are such deep and lovely thoughts, an endless parade. And I must thank you from the bottom of this bottomless heart. Before you made me so angry, I had little reason to feel or care or live. Now I burst with purpose …
I imagine this is disconcerting to you, but do take comfort from my other solemn vow. Once I am dead, you are perfectly safe.
Until such time, I remain yours,
X