The addiction was so powerful that Smith failed to kick the habit despite several attempts at rehab. But from her recent media appearances it appears that at the time she didn't understand how bad her addiction was, she believed she was in control and that she could stop at any time.

For the first time, Smith saw the futility, the depravity, and the hopelessness of her addiction. Though Nichols asked her to join him, she declined. "If I did die, I wasn't going to heaven and say, 'Oh, excuse me, God. Let me wipe my nose, because I just did some drugs before I got here,' " Smith told the media during her book tour.

Smith claims that was the moment of realization for her—the moment when God finally broke the stronghold of addiction in her life. She writes in her book: "I haven't touched drugs since walking out of my apartment on March 12. … Initially I did not volunteer the information about the drugs [that she gave Nichols]. … I was afraid. Later I came forward and shared the details about the drugs with the appropriate authorities, but I regret not having done so at the very beginning. I remember what Jesus said: The truth will set you free. That's how I want to live my life—I want to be an honest person and experience the freedom that goes with it."

Our original article revealed how God can use us regardless of our past. Ashley Smith's new and disturbing revelations show that even the most hopeless situation—being held hostage by a killer or a killer addiction—can be redeemed by God for His purposes and for our good. The initial version of the story showed how God used Ashley Smith to speak to Brian Nichols's heart and save innocent lives. The new revelations show how God used a divine encounter with Brian Nichols to save Ashley Smith's life.

Ashley Smith's record includes petty thefts, a DUI charge, and an arrest for battery (though the charges were later dropped). When I saw this unlikely heroine on TV, I marveled that her rough past had actually made it possible for her to save lives and bring a violent fugitive to justice.

At approximately 9 A.M. on Friday, March 11, Brian Nichols, a defendant in a rape and sodomy case in Atlanta, overpowered the deputy who was guarding him, stole her gun, and then allegedly shot the judge who presided over his case. Before fleeing the courthouse, he also shot the court recorder. On the street, a sheriff's deputy pursued him. In front of several witnesses, Nichols turned and shot the deputy five times. In less time than it takes to seat a jury, he killed three people in cold blood.

Nichols entered a downtown parking garage, and for the next half hour he became a serial carjacker, stealing a tow truck and two cars and pistol-whipping a local newspaper reporter, the owner of the second car, a green Honda Accord.

The local news stations interrupted programming for the rest of the day, devoting coverage to a manhunt for the killer in the Honda who was now terrorizing the city. I found myself glued to the television, deciding my errands could wait. I feared parking lots—they are prime carjacking locations in Atlanta.