Memo couldn’t read the paper. But he understood the general’s eyes. He looked at Ova, sleeping in Deniz’s arms. Then he took the pen. The day of the execution, Cell No. 7 was silent. The men had prepared one last gift. Kirpi had forged a perfect replica of the general’s official seal. Deniz had bribed a junior clerk to swap Memo’s confession with a document that read: “The undersigned confesses to nothing. The general’s daughter fell on ice. I, Memo, am innocent. My daughter, Ova, is my only witness.”

But it was too late. The firing squad was lined up.

Memo picked her up, confused and terrified, just as the general’s men arrived. They saw a large, simple man holding the dead girl. They did not see an accident. They saw a monster. Memo was thrown into the high-security wing of Tuzla Prison. Cell No. 7 housed the worst of the worst: Deniz, a brutal drug lord; Kirpi (“the Hedgehog”), a grizzled forger; and three others hardened by violence. They looked at Memo’s trembling hands and vacant eyes and saw fresh meat.