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Part 1: The news spreads on Death Row   On a courtroom bench,
Dick Cunningham looked like any other lawyer. He wore a nice
suit that blended in with all the suits around him.  But if you
looked closer, along the floor, in the row of shiny wingtips,
you'd see a pair of weather-beaten shoes, with a soft sole and
the kind of leather that you can't put a high polish on. Lawyers
who knew him miss seeing those shoes. They knew that he went
places in them that you wouldn't want to.  Cunningham walked
through a world of hurt, a world where killers raped and stabbed
and set people on fire; where the killers themselves had often
suffered, getting beaten or abandoned or shot.  He walked some
of our criminal justice system's darkest halls -- through police
stations where suspects are tortured and courts where judges
don't care and prisons where inmates are executed in front of
witnesses who sit in a room where the floor slopes from back to
front so that any