It was a strange day, a strange day, indeed. The Chief of Police was sitting in the wrong chair. He was in the defense chair, and he just plead guilty to murder. "Let me make sure that I get this perfectly clear," began the judge with a careful and slow voice. "Say, again, how you plead to Murder in the First Degree? Did you murder Keith Simmons?" Chief of Police Frank Hardwin was fifty by a week. He was big and gregarious, and he was loved by everyone. But he had a demon. The whole town knew he loved a married woman- and the whole town understood. Unfortunately, the woman's husband did not understand. It was also unfortunate that for a few minutes on a lonely bridge, in the middle of the night, the Chief's demon took over; he killed a man- the woman's husband, of course. The chief stumbled with his words of confession. They came out halting at first... and then spilled out with a simple and final, "Guilty. I am...guilty. I killed Keith Simmons. I threw him off the bridge into Burney Creek. I didn't mean to... I.., he fell and drowned, and I am the one who pushed him off the bridge, so I guess I killed him, all right. I just plead guilty." The judge asked for extenuating circumstances, for some reason for the killing, for some way of mitigating a Murder One to something less. But Frank Hardwin would not give the judge any excuse to reduce the charges. The Chief of Police just hung his head and refused further comment. Courtroom gossipers in the back row could hardly hear the gavel as it reluctantly dropped. "Sentencing set for a week from Tuesday." Ron Priest, a retired Springfield, Oregon police officer was in the back row. Something was wrong with the chief's plea; he could sense it. He sought a woman's point of view and turned to his long, dead wife for her opinion. She smiled.