Randall Grey was fifty-two years old; he would not see fifty-three. He had spent the last sixteen years in this ten-by-ten-foot cell, seeing the light of day, feeling the warm sun or the cool rain, for one hour out of twenty-four. Tomorrow morning, he would pay for the brutal murder of his cheating wife. Frank Bianco was a good ol' boy, a rural North Carolina hard-working family man. He drove a Ford pickup, took his family to church more...