“So, two wicked hell-deserving sinners – Rev. Prof. Dr. Nigel Lee and his father’s slayer Mr. W. – then went down on their knees in that jail together. I put my arm around his shoulder, and prayed first. I thanked God for our meeting; (re)confessed all my own fresh sins to the Lord; and then asked him to have mercy on Mr. W., for Christ’s sake.”

Francis Nigel Lee died on December 23, 2011 in Australia. One thing he left behind is the story of the conversion of the man who murdered his father.

In April 1994, I was invited to fly round the world and expound the Lord’s Prayer in the USA during September. Having acquired the plane ticket, as an only child I was much looking forward to visiting my parents in Barrydale (near Swellendam in South Africa) on my way from Australia to America.

However, in July 1994, my father (almost 86) was robbed and left for dead in his home. My mother (having lost her mind and the use of some of her bodily functions) was permanently hospitalised. One week after being assaulted, my father died in hospital and went to be with the Lord.

Upon my arrival in South Africa in September, I headed for Swellendam (where my mother is still in hospital). There, I was amazed that the police had apprehended a young man in connection with the death of my father, and that the young man had signed a statement alleging that he alone had attacked my father. I also learned that my father, before dying, had given a description to the police of the young man (which description is altogether in harmony with the appearance of the accused) and that the latter was being held in jail precisely in Swellendam, while awaiting his preliminary trial just one week after my own arrival there.

I immediately contacted the jail, requesting permission to come and speak to the accused (of whom it is alleged that he had killed also someone else even before attacking my father). The police warmly supported my request, but informed me the accused had the right to refuse to see me. He, however, being told who I was, agreed and even requested to meet with me.

On the 15th of September I went to the jail, where I was told to surrender my camera and tape-recorder and any firearms I may have been carrying. I was escorted to a room where three armed policemen and their officer were doing clerical work. One minute later, the accused was brought through the door into the room and stood there in front of me.

He was a strongly-built medium-sized man, answering exactly to the description given by my father to the police. He stood there, just looking down at the ground. I silently prayed to God for guidance as to what to do next. Then I got up from my chair; addressed him politely by his full name; greeted him with a handshake; thanked him sincerely for granting me the interview; and requesting him to sit down before I again did so.

I then said: ‘Mr. W., are you getting enough to eat here?’ He replied: ‘Yes, thank you.’ I said: ‘Have you peace of mind here?’ He replied: ‘Sir, I am very unhappy. I have been praying to God in my cell for the last three nights, but it’s as if my prayers bounce back off the ceiling and don’t get through.’

I then said: ‘Mr. W., I am the only child of the old man who was left for dead behind the front door of his house in Barrydale on the 10th of July whom you are accused of having assaulted. I had been looking forward to spending a week with him in September, but as you can see this is now impossible.’ The young man nodded; looked down; and said nothing.

I then continued:

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