"I'm crazy. Don't what I done prove it?"

William C. Irwin
at his arraignment -
The Des Moines Register -
April 13, 1946

We'll never know what William Correll Irwin was thinking on the morning of April 8, 1946 or what voices he may have heard in his head but it's a fact that on that day he used a mattock pickax to brutally murder his 63-year-old mother Mary, his 38-year-old wife (of 17 years) Edith and two of his three sons, John, aged 7, and Henry, aged 4.

The weapon had a 6 foot long handle and the blade measured 12 to 14 inches.

Des Moines Tribune -
April 8, 1946

Eldest son Billy, aged 11, had the good fortune to have left the house earlier in the morning to attend a special concert performance given by the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra at the Shrine Auditorium for Des Moines school children or he most likely would have met the same fate.

William Irwin must have felt himself slipping into madness because only 4 days earlier (April 4th), citing a "nervous condition," he'd requested an indefinite leave of absence from his job as a linotype operator at The Des Moines Register and Tribune company. William had been working there since November 6, 1938.

According to family members, William had been unnerved by a near accident about a week before. He had been preparing to board a city bus and a passing automobile drove so close to him that he was forced to jump on the car's running board to avoid being mowed down. Now continually nervous, William would tell people "My time has come."



family photo -
reprinted from
The Waterloo Daily Courier -
April 8, 1946

One day before slaughtering 4 members of his family, William was acting so irrationally that Edith phoned her in-laws. Brother James and mother Mary came over to talk to William and urged him to seek help. James would later say William was "talking out of his mind and was extremely nervous but (he) definitely was not violent." This family intervention lasted until 3 AM with William taking a break around midnight. He went for a walk to clear his head; it was later revealed William had returned to the typesetting room at his job where he spent an hour chatting with coworkers.

The family was right to worry about William. He had previously suffered a nervous breakdown, in March 1937, while working in Chicago and had spent 2 months in an asylum. The treatment had done him a world of good, or so it seemed. Perhaps all he needed was another sabbatical.



Des Moines Register -
April 9, 1946

James returned to his own home convinced that his now-slumbering brother posed no threat to the family and everyone was relieved that William had agreed to see a psychiatrist of James' choosing. William's mother Mary was less sure about her son's mental state so she slept over.

Des Moines Register -
April 9, 1946

The following morning Mary was helping William get the garden ready for the spring plantings. The Irwins' neighbor, a Mr. H.W. Lane, stopped over at 7:30 AM and he would later tell police that William seemed fine. "He was joking and seemed very pleasant." William introduced his mother to Mr. Lane and had promised to bring over some of his home-grown rhubarb.

At 8 AM, James received an urgent phone call from Edith. "Bill wants to see a doctor right away. He says 'I know I'm sick.'"

At 8:15 AM, William walked over to the Lane household with the rhubarb. Mrs. Lane would recall that "he seemed all right at the time."

Within a half hour of this visit, Mrs. Lane's nephew Loring Larsen was likewise working in his family's yard when he heard screaming coming from the Irwin house. He ran over to see what the trouble was. The bodies of Mary, Edith and 4-year-old Henry were already sprawled out on the lawn. William brandished the pickax, told Larsen to "get the hell out of here" then delivered a deadly blow to the head of his 7-year-old son John. William retreated into his house, grabbed a shotgun and a box of shells. William shot the family's Irish Setter and waited on the porch for the police to come, as he knew they would.

Mrs. Lane was frantically trying to contact the police but she had trouble getting through because her party line was busy. Imagine her terror and frustration as she could clearly hear the children yelling "Daddy, don't." Police logged the call in at 8:42 AM. Mrs. Lane reported Irwin had killed his wife and was chasing the others around the yard trying to kill them too. Mrs. Lane, unable to think of the Irwin's address gave police her own address instead.

(Follow along with the map)

Google Maps used to
pinpoint key locations

As Officers William Thacker and Ed McCarthy responded to 103 Kirkwood Avenue they drove south on Union Street and passed the Irwin household. When they were within range, William fired five shotgun rounds at the squad car, hitting the left front windshield and door. Twenty shotgun pellets were imbedded in the vehicle but neither officer was injured. They abandoned the car and took refuge behind an vacant store on the corner of Union and Kirkwood, directly across from the Irwin house.

Five-year-old Geraldine Nelson was on her way to Washington School at that moment and had the misfortune of getting caught in the crossfire. William Irwin was shooting at the police but he hit Geraldine in the abdomen. Despite the injury, Geraldine ran home.

Officer McCarthy returned fire with his own shotgun but it was Officer Thacker, armed with a .44 caliber handgun, who managed to hit Irwin once in the right leg, above the knee. Now wounded, Irwin ran towards the back of his house. McCarthy and Thacker pursued and Irwin stopped. He threw down his weapon and begged them to kill him. It was then that Irwin recognized Thacker, a friend for more than 20 years, and he apologized to Thacker for shooting at him. "If I'd known it was you I wouldn't have shot."

All of the injured and dead were transported to Broadlawns General Hospital. John and Henry died en route. Mary and Edith were already dead. Cause of death for all four were "punctured  craniums."

Des Moines Register -
April 9, 1946

Fortunately, the wound to Geraldine Nelson was not too serious (perhaps her heavy coat saved her) and she was giving interviews to the press the next day. Geraldine seemed most understanding and commented that "he was shooting at the police. He didn't mean to shoot me."

The wound to William's leg was not life-threatening either but it would be a long time in healing.

William was placed in a padded cell, nude except for his bandages and a strait jacket. He complained that he had missed breakfast and was hungry. 

When eldest son Billy returned home from what might have been a fun day out with classmates he learned that his mother, grandmother and 2 brothers were all dead and his father was responsible.

Once in custody, William had moments of clarity when realized what he had done and he would weep uncontrollably but there were just as many hours spent staring off into space, jumping up and down or laughing his head off.

When Detective Chief Paul Castelline asked William why had killed his family he told them he "had an impulse. God told me to kill my family. Now I've done everything in the book." Castelline asked William if he was crazy and the response was "I must be. Don't what I done prove it?"

On April 10, 1946, all four of the Irwins were laid to rest in a single ceremony. They were buried in the Laurel Hill Cemetery located in southeast Des Moines. Billy Irwin was staying with his paternal grandfather, the equally affected Valter Irwin.

Des Moines Register - April 12, 1946

Neighbors remained stunned by this violence. The Irwins were a good, solid, loving family and their home was quiet and well cared for. According to the Des Moines Register, "William had won the admiration of the entire block for his solicitude in caring for his wife during a long illness some time ago." While I'm not sure what this "illness" is, William and Edith had both suffered when their daughter Sharon died on June 10, 1939; she was only 8-years-old. The death certificate lists the principal cause of death as pneumonia but it also indicates Sharon had measles, strep and a congenital heart disease.

At his arraignment on April 13, 1946, William Irwin, still wearing the strait-jacket, appeared completely detached. According to The Des Moines Register, Irwin "seemed to give no indication that he either understood the proceedings or realized the extent of this crimes. Once or twice, his head thrown back, he laughed out loud, even though nobody had spoken to him."

Since William's sanity was most certain in question, the district attorney's office only charged him with the first degree murder of his wife. More charges would follow, if necessary. Irwin offered no plea and his court-appointed attorney Ted Haines, as per William's desire, asked that his client be confined to the Anamosa Reformatory's Insane Ward until the case came to trial.

Des Moines Tribune -
April 8, 1946

At the Grand Jury hearing, Police Officer George Cessna testified that Irwin had said he was in the front garden with his mother
when the woman pointed to a bush and asked that William look at it to. William felt that his mother was insinuating that he was as yellow as that bush and it was then that he had an overwhelming desire to kill her but it passed and he went back to his hoeing. A moment or two later the "voice of God or Jesus told me to kill her."

Des Moines Tribune -
April 8, 1946



Cessna also testified that Irwin said "women were more or less to blame for the evils and conditions of the world today." Irwin had further explained that he killed his sons "so that he could raise them the way he wanted to."



Des Moines Tribune -
May 16, 1946 

If that latter line of thinking sounds crazy, it's because Irwin was crazy. On May 15, 1946, William Irwin was declared insane and a danger to society. He was to be held in the Anamosa Reformatory's Insane Ward "until he becomes sane."

That day never came. On November 13, 1949, William Correll Irwin wrapped one end his shirt around his neck, the other around a cell bar and he hanged himself. He was 45-years-old. He is also buried in the Laurel Hill Cemetery.

The surviving member of the family, Billy graduated high school, enlisted in the Air Force and is, I believe, still alive.

Struggling With Impulse Control

For 45 minutes, Opal knew what it was like to have money.

In police custody

At 1:20 PM on January 22, 1947, Opal Dixon, aged 35, entered the Des Moines National Bank and Trust prepared to make a big withdrawal. She passed a large manila envelope to the teller and told him to fill it up with cash or she'd would "blow the place the pieces."

She waved a hypodermic syringe filled with a colored liquid over her head, announcing to everyone that the place was surrounded and insinuated Al Capone was her partner in crime.

photo from
The Des Moines
Register - Jan. 23, 1947

Bank employee Rex Cisco placed $500 in the envelope and pushed it back towards Opal but she demanded more. He squatted down, grabbed bundles of $1s and then $5s, bringing the total to $2,950.00. Cisco signaled to a coworker to press the silent alarm.

When an elderly man next to Opal started to turn, she told him, "Just stand still, Mister. One squirt of this and you will be a dead stiff in a second."

Opal walked out of the bank and disappeared into the crowd.

She hadn't gone far. She walked to her dentist's office to pay an outstanding bill in the amount of $75 for some false teeth. Opal borrowed the key to the ladies' restroom where she hid the rest of the money in both the toilet paper dispenser and waste paper basket. She disposed of the hypodermic syringe, bought herself a magazine and headed back outside.

Opal was one of many women wearing a grey fur coat that afternoon so she blended in quite easily but it was her lack of a hat that made police spot her.

photo from The Globe Gazette - Jan. 23, 1947

Opal calmly denied any involvement and there was no evidence on her person linking her to the crime but when police escorted her back to the bank, multiple eyewitnesses identified her immediately.

Opal was taken to the police station where she said, "I suppose you are suspecting me of the St. Louis bank robbery, too." Well, if they weren't before they certainly were now.

This was the first solid lead the FBI would have in the December 1946 robbery of the United Bank and Trust in St. Louis, Missouri.

On that day, Opal Dixon walked away with $582 in singles. Not a bad haul considering she did it all on the spur of the moment.

Opal had traveled by bus from Des Moines to St. Louis a few days prior to rendezvous with her recently wed daughter Jewell, age 16.

On December 26, 1946, mother and daughter were waiting at the St. Louis bus station for a return trip to Des Moines when Opal disappeared for a bit. She later claimed she simply got it into her head that she would rob a bank and so she did.

She claims the inspiration came to her in a dream; days before robbing the bank she had a dream in which she was a wealthy woman.

Opal walked from the bus station to the bank, waited in line and when she got to the window she simply demanded money. The teller, Robert Walden, later told police that a well-dressed woman pulled a gun from inside her fur coat and told him to "Hand it over. The place is covered." 

When Walden hesitated, she told him "I'm not kidding, hand it over." Opal was given an envelope bulging with one dollar bills and Walden helped the next customer before sounding the alarm. Not even the man standing on line behind Opal knew there had been a robbery.

Opal walked right out the front door and passed 2 policemen as she made her way to a produce market where she visited the restrooms (leaving behind a wrapper from one of the bundles of  bills and turning her coat inside out) she then made a small purchase of cabbages and grapes.

Opal rejoined her daughter at the bus station, said nothing about where she'd been and both of them boarded the bus.

Suspicion quickly fell on Walden especially after the results of his lie detector test proved inconclusive. I believe there's a good chance Walden was merely unwilling to admit an unarmed woman managed to rob him. Opal's version of events makes no mention of a handgun.

Opal later told police all the money from the first bank theft had been spent on "steaks, a radio, electric clock and other gadgets."

It could only have been the ease with which she robbed one bank that she thought she'd try it again. Opal claims this too was a spontaneous crime. Opal had been chatting with her daughter Jewell over breakfast one day about how they'd spend money if they had some.

The morning of the robbery, Opal filled a hypodermic syringe with a little bit of Listerine. This would serve as her phony liquid dynamite.

As she told police, "I know there are things that are suppose to blow things up, that's all. I had no idea what I wanted the people in the bank to think was in the syringe. I just thought I'd let them think what they wanted."

Photo from Des Moines Register - Jan. 23, 1947

Opal showed very little remorse for her crime nor did she seem overly concerned about the stiff penalty for such an act. If found guilty, and she had already confessed to not one but two robberies, Opal would receive the mandatory sentence of life in prison. A sympathetic district attorney offered her a plea deal but Opal refused to plead guilty in court to the lesser charge of robbery with aggravation which would have resulted in a maximum sentence of 25 years. She would take her chances with the all-female jury and a charge of robbery with intent.

photo from The Des Moines Tribune - Feb. 7, 1947

The first maneuver made by Opal's court-appointed attorney Ray Hanke was to argue Opal's confession had been coerced and obtained under duress. Failing in that, he changed tactics and suggested his client was temporarily insane at the time but after being examined by two psychiatrists, that angle was also rejected by the Judge Russell Jordan. Judge Jordan stated, "Even in it's most favorable light, the pleadings of the defense could no more than raise the possible issue of irresistible impulse at the time of the robbery."

Opal's defense at the trial would have to be one of privation, abuse, poverty and desperation after years of being in a series of abusive marriages.

Opal would claim that she only robbed the banks so that the FBI would be alerted to her terrible situation and lend assistance. She testified that she wanted to scare everyone "real bad, the way I have been scared for the past eight years." Both of her daughters, Louise, aged 18, and Jewell, aged 16, would back her up with regards to abuse Opal had suffered at the hands of her husband, Jesse Dixon.

Of course, how does this claim fit with Opal's initial comments to the police?
Just a few of the gems included "I was simply tired of living without having money - that's why I did it." "I robbed two banks because I wanted my family to enjoy the thrill of having lots of money" and "If I had gotten by with that job today, my family would be eating nice juicy steaks."

Opal's testimony of life before the crimes certainly sold newspapers and packed the standing-room only courtroom.

photo from The Des Moines Tribune -  February 14, 1947

Nobody had to come out of the woodwork to expose Opal. She took the stand in her own defense, told all and came across as impetuous, forthright and sympathetic.



Opal was born in 1911 in Missouri, she left school at the age of 15 and shortly thereafter was married for the first time to a steel company representative named William D. Stoller. The union was a brief one - a falling out only two months into the marriage had Opal seeking a divorce. Afterwards she sought to better herself by enrolling in a nine month business course but would take another trip down the aisle before using the skills she'd acquired to land a job.



photo from The
Des Moines Register -
Jan. 23, 1947

Husband number two was Layman Allen. Layman was a glass blower by trade, the father of her two daughters and lousy at supporting the family. According to Opal "He never had $10 in his pocket after the first six months we were married in 1927, and he sent me home on three different occasions. We lived with his people some of the time and with my folks part of the time before I got a divorce from him in 1932. He told fantastic stories and we quarreled over money."

Opal worked as a waitress to support her and the girls, earning $5 a week.

Shortly after her divorce from Layman, Opal rebounded into a marriage with Virgil Hammond. He was a vaudevillian tap dancer and clown who refused to give up his vocation to get a job with the WPA, as she had hoped. Opal worked and supplemented her income with state aid. They lived apart more than they lived together and he was often abusive. During one altercation, Opal got between Virgil and the children and she was knocked to the floor; she suffered a miscarriage. After 5 unhappy years of marriage, Opal filed for divorce. "I didn't want the children to become silly from being boxed around and I took a shot at him with his revolver but missed."

Opal had to leave her daughters with their paternal grandmother following this lateset divorce but marriage number four, one year later, would find Opal reunited with her girls.

Unfortunately, Robert E. Couillion was not the answer to her problems. "Robert was my French and Spanish husband, and there was trouble almost from the start. I hit him on the head with an alarm clock because he beat the children, the police came, and I was taken to the hospital all banged up, with several fractured ribs."



Opal again became separated from her children.

While Robert Couillion was being deported and divorced, Opal was being arrested for kidnapping her own daughters from the custody of Illinois juvenile authorities. These charges would eventually be dropped.

Things couldn't have always been bad between Robert and Opal because according to an article in the January 23, 1947 Des Moines Tribune, Opal admitted the name "Robert" had been tattooed over her heart.

Opal married for a fifth time, as early as 1938 or as late as 1943, depending upon which statement you read.

Her new husband, Jesse Dixon, was 25 years older than her and, like Opal, had four previous marriages behind him. After 7 months of marriage, most of the family relocated to Peoria, Illinois. Oldest daughter Louise stayed behind in St. Louis and although Jewell did accompany Opal and Jesse, she was placed in a children's home.

According to Opal's testimony, when they got to Peoria, Jesse Dixon rented an eight room house which he turned into a brothel. Working for him was his own wife and 4 other girls.
Opal spent 2 years working as a prostitute but quit because of arthritis. Opal sought treatment at a hospital for her ailment then returned to St. Louis. She tried to put some distance between herself and her husband but wherever Opal went, Jesse followed.

During one such reunion, much to Opal's disappointment, Jesse handed over only $500 of the $4,000 they had made while in Peoria after promising her an equal cut. Jesse then insisted repeatedly that Opal return to working as a prostitute or perhaps help with a blackmail scheme he'd devised.
According to Opal, Jesse said "you're not going to be young always and ought to make some quick money while the sun shines." She refused because her health had been ruined by her "work in the underworld" and this angered him.



According to Opal's testimony, Jesse threatened her life, gave her a beating that knocked out a few of her teeth and asked her how she "would like to lead a couple of blind kids around." This, Opal would claim, was what motivated her to rob those banks. She wanted to do something big enough to get the attention of the FBI.

photo and caption from the book "Des Moines"

written by Craig C. McCue

At the time of Opal's arrest in January 1947, she and Jesse were residing at the Hotel Cargill in Des Moines and Opal's two daughters, both married, were living in an adjoining room.

The hotel had a questionable reputation and was the subject of many a police raid.

Jesse was employed by the Watson Freight Company as  dispatcher while Opal worked occasionally as a practical nurse at the Wilden Osteopathic Hospital and as a waitress at a downtown restaurant.
Jewell was a student nurse at the same hospital and apparently seeking a divorce. Louise, who had been working alongside her mother as a waitress was currently unemployed.

All four of them were taken in for questioning. Jesse was ultimately released because police believed he was not involved although he did admit to having knowledge of his wife's first robbery.
Upon her return from St. Louis in December 1946, Opal had showed him a sack full of $1 bills. Jesse's statement also included the fact that he had sent Opal $37 while she was in Des Moines visiting Jewell but only $18 of that had been repaid.



Jesse also revealed some background on Opal. According to Jesse, he met Opal in 1939 at a St. Louis restaurant (perhaps while she was working as a waitress?) and he "felt sorry for her because she looked sick. I helped her out financially and finally married her in Chicago. She worked for the Carnegie Steel Company in South Chicago for awhile. She laid off for a few days and when the boss asked her why, she said that I was dead and that she was attending my funeral."



No charges were filed against either Jewell or Louise and they both stood by their mother throughout the proceedings. Eldest daughter Louise, herself twice married, claimed her first union was "not for love but so that she could get away from Mr. Dixon." Her second husband was a Merchant Marine and currently in South America.

photo from The Daily News - Feb. 20, 1947

The trial lasted 14 days. The jury deliberated for 6 hours and cast 7 ballots before announcing they had their verdict.

According to the Des Moines Register, on the day the verdict was to be read, "Defense Attorney Ray Hanke telephoned that he would not be able to come to court, and Mrs. Dixon sat alone between two sheriff's deputies. The defendant didn't bother to remove her coat or galoshes before hearing the verdict. After the decision had been announced, she shook hands with County Attorney Carroll Switzer. Her daughters were not in the courtroom." Although they "had been at the courthouse earlier in the afternoon to collect witness fees for testifying on their mother's behalf, but apparently did not know of the return of the verdict."



The jury had little choice but to find Opal guilty. Mrs. Eva Jane Hutchens, the foreman, said "We all felt sorry for her but we had to do our duty as jurors."

Opal took the verdict in her stride, saying she "wasn't surprised." When asked if she would appeal, Opal replied "Why sure. What do you think this whole show was for anyway?"

One week later, on February 28th, Opal was back in court. Her petition for a new trial was denied and the mandatory sentence of life in prison was imposed.

Opal laughed and chatted with Louise and Jewell after the judgment was announced but refused to acknowledge Jesse, who was now speaking to her for the first time since her arrest.



photo from The Des Moines Tribune-  Feb. 28, 1947



photo from The Des Moines Tribune - Feb. 28, 1947

Jesse stepped forward to say "Hello" and was ignored. When Jesse asked "Aren't you going to say anything?" Opal let him have it, "Now that you have waited until this time to show up, get out and stay out." It wasn't until he remarked "You thought too late about your daughters" that Jesse got a genuine rise out of her. Opal stood up and was ready to have a go at him until a deputy sheriff intervened and advised him to leave. Opal regained her composure and sat back down.

photo from The Des Moines Tribune - Feb. 28, 1947

Once incarcerated at the Rockwell City Reformatory, Opal had some difficulty adjusting and was twice transferred to the Cherokee State Hospital for observation after suffering "attacks of hysterical frenzy," first in July 1947 and then in September 1948.



Cherokee State Hospital, photo from the website
EveryBody:An Artifact History of Disability in America

Jesse Dixon was be granted a divorce from Opal in November 1947. The only reason given was Opal's felony conviction.



On December 6, 1949, Opal once again acted on impulse and decided to escape from the minimal security prison. Instead of walking from her cottage to the dining hall, Opal walked away from the prison and headed towards the south edge of the reformatory grounds.

Women's Reformatory, Rockwell, Iowa -

photo from State of Iowa, Dept. of Social Services

The Globe Gazette provided this statement from the prison's superintendent Mrs. Helen Talboy, "Opal sometimes didn't eat an evening meal. When she did not appear therefore, it as assumed she was in her 2nd floor room. A check later showed she was missing."

After 6 1/2 hours of hiding in a cornfield, Opal walked back to her cottage and turned herself in. Opal's hands and legs were reddened and chapped from exposure. Opal told them "she couldn't stand it any longer. But she'll try again next summer - when it's warmer." Opal spent the next 30 days in solitary confinement and did not make good on her promise of a second attempt.

In 1953, Prison Magazine published an article about Opal and described her as model inmate:

"I do not know the qualifications for an ambassadress, but I believe Opal has the potentialities. Opal is never too busy to call out a cheery greeting. Her laughter is the infectious kind that we all like to hear. She is impeccably clean and neat. She is an interesting conversationalist and a good listener. Above all, she is at all times gracious, being ladylike is one of Opal's greatest assets."



In 1955, Governor Leo A. Hoegh commuted Opal's life sentence to a term of 50 years.

On August 21, 1957, Opal was paroled after spending 10 1/2 years in prison. The Des Moines Tribune reported that Opal would be living in Michigan where both of her daughters reside.

Making the most of her freedom, Opal had found time for romance. That's right - Opal married for a sixth time.



On October 25, 1957, Opal, now 45-years-old, married James E. Christy, Sr, aged 55, before a justice of the peace in Saline, Michigan. Christy was a widower and the father of nine married children.

It was a whirlwind courtship; they had only known each other about a week. Opal proposed on their second date. She told him "she could cook, bake and be a good homemaker." James found her to be "a charming, witty, white-haired woman."

A few hours after their wedding, the two stopped at a gas station. Opal exited the car but left her open purse behind. James noticed some yellowed newspaper clippings and curiosity got the better of him. This is the first he'd heard about Opal's time in prison and the bank robbery.

When confronted with the deception, Opal "unleashed a streak of abuse that would chill the blood of the most forgiving bridegroom," said James. "She told me I was a sucker. She added that she had six or seven previous husbands, she couldn't exactly remember. She also said she was the darling of several gangsters." "All I wanted was a good home."

James was stunned into silence, "I drove her to Woodward Ave., dropped her off and I haven't seen her since." On January 2, 1958 he would granted an annulment.

On November 20, 1958, Opal's parole was revoked on recommendation of Michigan parole authorities because Opal had been "drinking excessively" and had "caused a number of disturbances."

According to a January 31, 1982 retrospective of "Notorious Ladies from Iowa's Past" published in the Des Moines Register, Opal Dixon was released from the Women's Reformatory in the late 1960s.



Opal died on June 24, 1982 in Nora Springs, Iowa at the age of 71. She was survived by her two daughters.

An interesting side note - The foreman on the jury, Jane Hutchens, was herself a minor celebrity. She was the author of two historical novels, "John Brown's Cousin" and "Timothy Larkin," published in 1940 and 1942 respectively. Both of these are available to read for free at https://archive.org

Jane Hutchens was interviewed after the trial and said "The rest of my days I'll be conscious of the fact that I helped to take someone's freedom away."