Alvin Melleth

I'm staring at my hands, fiddling with my wedding ring, and I look over at my producer, Alvin, and he's doing the exact same thing.

Greg asks if he can come back in a few weeks, and Montoya says, sure, but his answer will still be no.

Greg says he'll come back anyway.

This all takes less than two minutes, but it's like the awkwardness ripped a hole in the space-time continuum.

It might as well have been a week.

We take the elevator back down, go outside, and turn the recorder back on for a debrief.

So yeah, maybe the newly elected DA has enough to do and wouldn't want to mess with the long-awaited execution of El Paso's most notorious serial killer.

But there are only 87 days left for Greg to find some way to get Montoya on his side.

I asked him if, considering how that interaction just went, he had any realistic hope that Montoya would ever talk to him.

Charlie Brown, who keeps trying no matter what.

Greg tells Alvin and me he sees wisdom in that approach in death row cases like this.

The second you let yourself get discouraged and give up, you're doomed.

He did follow that up by saying you're going to get the same answer.

I think that was his way of getting rid of you, if I may.

That was my take.

The next morning, Alvin and I meet Greg in the lobby of a very beige hotel near the airport.

Joining us is another lawyer who got in last night, Jeremy Shuppers.

Jeremy, if you can't tell already, is pretty much a photo negative of Greg.

They both grew up in Michigan, but that's where the similarities stop.

Jeremy is sarcastic, where Greg is earnest.