Chapter Nine

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We found the photo still in its frame. We turned it over and read what was written on the backing.

A time comes when each of us must take responsibility. My time is now though I have little left and others may think it too late. I do not intend spending my remaining moments wasting in some hospital, or hospice like Harold, on drugs, or in some vain attempt to avoid the inevitable. I choose to leave on my terms. By my judgment.

That being so, my affairs are in order. My lawyers have the particulars. Many things in my life could have gone differently, but there is only one I sincerely wish I could go back and undo. That is my participation in the murder of Paul Monroe. I make no excuses. I made the choice. I made false denials. Refused the responsibility of my action until now. This is unpardonable. There can be no redemption for me.

I can only try to set the matter to rest. I have been a coward and am afraid I shall remain so as no one will see this before my death. If this causes pain, I'm truly sorry, but the truth must come out. May my family, and especially Monroe's family, not hate me too greatly.

—George Armstrong Cutter

We returned to the parlor with the picture. Mrs. Cutter remained seated and unapologetic.

"Why, Mrs. Cutter? Why didn't you give this to the police? Why waste their time? Why put others at risk of accusal?"

"Our business is our business. We don't air our dirty laundry in public. Besides, Cutters don't commit suicide."

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