institution　…　I　don't　remember　the　name　and　guess　it　doesn't　matter；　anyway　…　and　died　in　1965。　So　far　as　I　know；　the　last　time　he　ever　spoke　was　when　he　told　us　we　could　clock　him　out　at　quitting　time。。。　unless　we　wanted　to　explain　why　he　had　left　early。

The　irony　was　that　we　never　had　to　explain　much　of　anything。　Percy　had　gone　crazy　and　shot　William　Wharton　to　death。　That　was　what　we　told；　and　so　far　as　it　went；　every　word　was　true。　When　Anderson　asked　Brutal　how　Percy　had　seemed　before　the　shooting　and　Brutal　answered　with　one　word　…　〃Quiet〃　…　I　had　a　terrible　moment　when　I　felt　that　I　might　burst　out　laughing。　Because　that　was　true；　too；　Percy　had　been　quiet；　for　most　of　his　shift　he'd　had　a　swatch　of　friction…tape　across　his　mouth　and　the　best　he'd　been　able　to　e　up　with　was　mmmph；　mmmph；　mmmph。

Curtis　kept　Percy　there　until　eight　o'clock；　Percy　as　silent　as　a　cigar…store　Indian　but　a　lot　more　eerie。　By　then　Hal　Moores　had　arrived；　looking　grim　but　petent；　ready　to　climb　back　into　the　saddle。　Curtis　Anderson　let　him　do　just　that；　and　with　a　sigh　of　relief　the　rest　of　us　could　almost　hear。　The　bewildered；　frightened　old　man　was　gone；　it　was　the　Warden　who　strode　up　to　Percy；　grabbed　him　by　the　shoulders　with　his　big　hands；　and　shook　him　hard。

〃Son！〃　he　shouted　into　Percy's　blank　face　…　a　face　that　was　already　starting　to　soften　like　wax；　I　thought。　〃Son！　Do　you　hear　me？　Talk　to　me　if　you　hear　me！　I　want　to　know　what　happened！〃

Nothing　from　Percy；　of　course。　Anderson　wanted　to　get　the　Warden　aside；　discuss　how　they　were　going　to　handle　it　…it　was　a　political　hot　potato　if　there　had　ever　been　one…but　Moores　put　him　off；　at　least　for　the　time　being；　and　drew　me　down　the　Mile。　John　Coffey　was　lying　on　his　bunk　with　his　face　to　the　wall；　legs