I probably struck the fear of God in the Powelsons, so they endeavored to do away with me. But why not kill two birds with one stone, they reasoned. First convince many people that I'm some kinduva Mr. 666, orchestrate my death, and revel in the glory of having killed me. Behold, God struck him dead, but underneath it was them. This scheme about my classmate Cynthia Jane Anderson, went