Preachers warn about the slippery slope, that we need to be vigilant when it comes to temptation, that risk lurks out there in the darkness like the dragon of legend, a tongue of fire yearning to envelop us. One misstep and there you go, falling and flailing into the abyss, swallowed up by your own evil, your own humanness, your own weakness. Your own hubris.
Else why would Dickie Scruggs allow himself, his son and his associates to edge so close to the dragon fire, to risk everything for a mere split of legal fees, to strike some sort of Faustian bargain, to cede the moral imperative, to enter that queasy twilight where right and wrong merge into a slimy muck?
What happened to clarity? Soundness of purpose? The straight and the narrow?