A prisoner in Starke, Florida wrote me a letter one day. It started out with the spookiest of lines, "Dear Mr. Busch, I have been diagnosed with AIDS and it is terminal. I killed two people in your area and I need to get right with God".
A prisoner in Starke, Florida wrote me a letter one day. It started out with the spookiest of lines, "Dear Mr. Busch, I have been diagnosed with AIDS and it is terminal. I killed two people in your area and I need to get right with God".