The Confession

I just read an article in the Washington Post about a woman's deathbed murder confession. She killed two girls she worked with at an ice cream shop in Virginia in 1967, when she was 19, because they teased her about her sexuality. There's a picture of one victim's mother now, probably about 85 years old, with a scrapbook of news clippings and pictures dealing with her daughter's case. A lifetime of grieving.

William Thomas was a 24-year-old teacher at the time and the main suspect for the murder. After 42 years of beatings and ostracism, he's been given a new life.

This part made me cry:

"A jury would find him not guilty, but the indictment would not go away until two months ago. Before then, it would show up during job interviews and on loan applications. It also meant he couldn't leave the country.

"He said his daughter called him at a motel in Pennsylvania while he was away on business to tell him about the confession.

"'I shook so hard and cried so hard,' said Thomas, now 65. 'I've never had something weaken me like that. I prayed. Then I just started making a list of things I could do. I can now go to Canada. I can now go to Mexico. I can now go to Europe.'"

Can you imagine?