I had tried to get him a spot in the St Catherine’s cemetery, but the committee in charge had vetoed it – they did not want the grave of a murderer resting beside their loved ones. Private plots and burials were thousands of dollars – thousands that neither Grace nor Maggie nor I had to spend. An inmate whose family did not make alternate plans would be buried in a tiny graveyard behind the prison, a headstone carved only with his correctional facility number, not his name.
