I committed a felony and risked dying in a prison cell at sixty-eight, all because a battered seven-year-old foster boy begged me to drive him to heaven.

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I committed a felony and risked dying in a prison cell at sixty-eight, all because a battered seven-year-old foster boy begged me to drive him to heaven.
He was shivering behind a rusted gas station dumpster at two in the morning, his tiny face covered in fresh, dark bruises. The cold wind was howling, but he was shaking from pure …
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