Diane, my recorder is on the table. I'm unable to reach it at this time. I can only hope that I inadvertently pressed the voice activation button. I'm lying on the floor of my room. I've been shot. There's a great deal of pain and a fair amount of blood. Fortunately I was wearing my bullet-proof vest last night, per Bureau regulations when working undercover. I remember folding the vest up, trying to chase down a wood tick.
If you can imagine the impact on your chest of three bowling balls, dropped from a height of about 9 feet, you might begin to approximate the sensation.
All things considered, being shot is not as bad as I always thought it might be…as long as you can keep the fear from your mind. I guess you could say that about most anything in life. It's not so bad, as long as you can keep the fear from your mind...
Oh my God. The ring is gone.
At a time like this, curiously, you begin to think of the things you regret. Or the things that you might miss. I would like in general to treat people with much more care and respect. I would like to climb a tall hill, not too tall, and sit in the cool grass, not too cool, and feel the sun on my face. I wish I could have cracked the Lindbergh kidnapping case. I would very much like to make love to a beautiful woman, who I had genuine affection for. And, of course, it goes without saying, that I would like to visit Tibet. I wish they could get their country back and the Dalai Lama could return. Oh, I would like that very much.