It was not as if I stopped committing crimes by choice. I d been perfectly happy robbing banks and an occasional post office, but just before my thirty-fifth birthday, something happened to me. Suddenly the thought of walking into a bank with a shotgun was more than I could face. It s not uncommon. Crime is young man s world. When you hit thirty-five you re either dead or reformed. I tried though. I made one last effort and the result was so embarrassing that I hope nobody will ever connect me to that job. I d been so nervous that I walked into the bank with an unloaded weapon just to make sure that I wouldn t shoot an innocent bystander or myself by accident. In the bank, I waved the gun around for a couple of minutes before taking off without any money. That was it. After that, I d been my parole officer s favorite client. The change from a life filled with excitement to this was hard. I d tried to fill my time with alcohol, but it was a weak poison for someone who was used to the undiluted terror of armed robbery.