“I’m not going to tell you anything that’s not true.” Even in his prison uniform, he looked positively distinguished. At 59, he had a finely sculpted face and carefully groomed gray hair. Then the man whom the Dallas police had called the coldest, most depraved killer of women in the city’s history gave me a long gentle stare, his dark deep-set eyes never wavering, an encouraging half-smile on his lips. “They do not allow me to have face-to-face visits.” “I apologize for not being able to shake your hand and say hello,” he said, formally rising as I approached his window in the visiting room. Read more here about our archive digitization project.Ĭharles Albright patiently waited behind an unbreakable glass wall, watching as the prison guard escorted me through three sets of steel-barred doors. We have left it as it was originally published, without updating, to maintain a clear historical record. ![]() ![]() This story is from Texas Monthly ’s archives.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |