The Death Of Lance Lott Essay
Lance had missed two Christmases with his family and grown eight hundred and ten days older. Nevertheless, life continued as every day lay a stolen memory because he was merely one night’s sleep and a single wake up from freedom.
As the rich spring sun sets across the open Kansas sky, the last rays of pink and gold light danced across the omnibus hundred-year-old, forty foot brick wall of Leavenworth Penitentiary. A facility that in its heyday housed Machine Gun Kelly, The Birdman of Alcatraz, and various members of the Lucchese Crime Family, Lance walked his last laps around the track.
The “big house” which rested within that immense brick barrier to freedom—still topped with iron spikes as it was built long before razor wire or metal fencing, seemed closer to something from a history book or a tour of Washington DC. While its white marble front facade, concrete antebellum…