My wife and I had kidnapped three small children from a family. I wasn't even sure why we had done so, but apparently we intended to raise the children as our own. We didn't hide what we had done and we allowed the children to be seen in public. After a couple days, however, I was certain we would be caught. A massive hunt was underway; obviously the end was near.

I packed a small light blue suitcase and went to the mall. I seemed in a daze, and very unhappy. I couldn't organize my thoughts. I only knew I would soon be going to jail, and I saw no escape.

The mall was swarming with uniformed and plain-clothed police. Clearly they were watching me and finally one plain-clothed officer began walking along beside me. Although he was polite and said nothing, I knew I was under arrest. I asked him about the children and he said they had already been found. I also asked him if I would have a cell by myself or whether I would be placed in a room with other prisoners. He said I would be by myself.

All I saw before me was a life of prison. Maybe some day I would be released -- after all, I hadn't harmed the children in any way -- but I doubted it. My life was over.

The officer accompanied me to a bus. He left me as I climbed on board. The bus was full, but at first I didn't see any police officers on board. Finally, however, I noticed an oriental fellow looking at me and he nodded toward the seat in front of him. Clearly he was the person now in charge of me.

I went to the seat, intending to sit down, but then he pointed to the seat on the other side of him next to the window and I sat down there. He was friendly, although he had little to say. He took charge of my little blue suitcase and the bus pulled out. My life was over.

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