Jeffrey MacDonald isn't trying to charm today.
Usually, he's unhurried with the visitors who come to see him at the Federal Correctional Institution in Sheridan, Oregon, letting them know by his attention how important they are to him.
How was the flight? he'll ask, blue eyes riveted, perfect teeth set in an appealing grin. The food good? The hotel O.K.?
As likable as a next-door neighbor, he'll go on from there, talking sports, if his callers are fans; literature, if they like books; personal computers, if they're so inclined—though that's a wonder Jeff MacDonald, now in the 18th year of a three-consecutive-life-term sentence, has never seen. He can chat engagingly about anything, from homeopathic healing (a new interest of his) to his Princeton classmates, whose doings he keeps up with in the alumni news. Should mention be made of a relative who's ailing, he can even pass along some well-formed opinions. He was, after all, a very famous doctor in the Green Berets.