As he awaits indictment--possibly by the end of this week--and a trial that could send him to his death, Timothy McVeigh leads a cramped and isolated life. The suspected bomber of the Oklahoma City federal building rises at 6:30 a.m. in his 8-ft. by 12-ft. cell in the Federal Correctional Institute in El Reno, Oklahoma, showers, dons an orange jump suit. Then, as he told TIME in answers to written questions, he has nothing to do but read (newspapers, a biography of Patrick Henry) and slam a racquetball against the wall.
McVeigh cannot watch TV, though it watches him. He is under camera surveillance 20 hours a day. He cannot even see anyone from his cell except the armed guard who sits right outside--one of three who keep a constant vigil. Would-be visitors are discouraged; even McVeigh's lawyer, Stephen Jones, has to go through three layers of security to see his client. McVeigh leaves his cell rarely, chained at the ankles and wrists and whisked away in a windowless, bulletproof van to the Oklahoma City federal courthouse. From its windows, grand jurors, and perhaps eventually trial jurors, can clearly see the ruins of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building that McVeigh is suspected of having bombed on April 19, killing 168 people.
It is anything but the life foreshadowed by 95 pages of McVeigh's academic records from the Starpoint Central School District in Lockport, New York, near the Canadian border. According to the documents Jones released to TIME, McVeigh was a bright (IQ 128, above average), hardworking student who got sloppy at times but earned mostly A's and B's through high school, falling just outside the top 20% of his class, which disqualified him for the training he wanted as a computer programmer. More striking are the descriptions of a likable youngster limned year after year in the handwritten evaluations of his teachers. Wrote a Mrs. Lane, who taught the fifth grade, for example: "Tim has been a pleasant, cooperative boy to work with this year. He was an active, contributing participant in all group activities--a real asset to this class. I'll miss him!"
How did he turn into the gun-obsessed loner and right-wing drifter described in most reports of his activities between his time in Army service and the Oklahoma bombing? Even if his trial explores that subject, it is a long way off. In a preview of his strategy, lawyer Jones makes it clear he will dispute the government on every point--and take his time doing it. "The bottom line of our defense," he says, "is this: we will concede nothing."
The grand jury is working against a deadline of this Friday for handing up an indictment. Jones says matter-of-factly that he hears it will actually come Thursday. But he plans to ask permission to present to the grand jury exculpatory evidence that he claims he and six assistants have dug up in their own investigation. He will also ask the grand jury to call more witnesses--but not McVeigh. If granted, Jones' request may put off the deadline for indictment--for how long is uncertain.