James Clifton, Murderer?

We have all been blamed for something we weren't guilty of doing, at least once in our life. In the best case, you were accused of eating someone’s yogurt, and in the worst case, you were accused of murder. Don’t get me wrong, being blamed for something small, like eating someone’s yogurt, when you are not guilty still isn’t a pleasant situation to be in. However, it comes with much smaller consequences than murder. At worst, you get a slap on the wrist and labeled a liar. Being accused of murder, on the other hand, may result in a much worse outcome. I have been accused of many things I haven't done in the past, like farting, because the actual culprit didn’t claim it. My declaration of innocence apparently automatically made me accountable for the fart. Between you and I, I claim my farts, ok. This time, I have been accused of something much worse than stealing yogurt or farting. I have been accused of murdering my girlfriend, but I am innocent. I am writing this in the hope that it changes how you perceive me.

They always suspect the boyfriend with the van. Since I was the only one with her when she passed, things didn’t look good for me. I was therefore falsely convicted and sentenced to the death penalty for my alleged crime. If I’m being honest, like I always try to be, if I were to be guilty of committing such a crime, I would gladly accept the death sentence. In doing so, I wouldn’t have time to feel remorse for my actions and wouldn’t have to be trapped behind bars knowing I will never be free. If I was killed, I would be as free as anyone could ever possibly be in this life. But, in this case, I am innocent, therefore, I don’t want to die. Typically, I don't care what other people think about me. I think you should learn not to care as well if you haven't already. With the exception of judges and jurors, of course, especially when it's a life and death situation like mine is...

I am forever grateful to the guard that believed my innocence when everyone else didn’t even so much as take the time to listen to a single word I said. With the help of that guard, who is also a close friend, I managed to escape to a small town named Solitude Square, where I shaved my head, got a job as a milkman, and told people my name was James Clifton. My fake name isn’t relevant to the story, I merely like the sound of it. I thought you would too, you’re welcome. Anyways, I worked in this town for three days without a problem. On the fourth day however, things changed. Everything had been going well at first, as I had already fulfilled half of my deliveries without any issues. Until I got to a small, light blue house with a big picture window, that is. While collecting their empty bottles, I saw people watching television through their picture window. It made me reminisce about all the times I cuddled with my girlfriend, watching the news. They were bittersweet memories, as I missed those moments we once shared. I didn’t realize I was zoned out and had been unintentionally staring at them for as long as I had been. Until reality hit me, as without warning, the front door was opened by a child who exclaimed "That’s him, mom! He’s the guy on the news!" I was petrified. I didn’t want to die. Especially not because of some kid. "I’m sorry, I should continue my route." I replied while speed walking away from their home. I let out a sigh of relief when I closed the door to the truck, but I wasn’t quite out of the woods yet... As I began starting my truck, I saw a woman running towards me with a knife in hand, screaming “You’re not going anywhere, you murderer.” She then threw the knife at one of my tires, which caused the loud popping sound I heard, and still haunts me to this day.

At that point, I stopped and got out of the vehicle with my hands up. I figured that one way or another, I would be apprehended. She was shocked that I didn’t try to make a break for it. "Why didn’t you take off ?" she asked me, astounded by my behavior. "Because I'm innocent." I replied truthfully. She then brought me inside, where I told her and her children the truth about what happened the night my love died. They actually listened to what I had to say, which was a first. They then promised not to turn me in. So everything worked out, I ended up continuing my life as James Clifton delivering milk and even eventually became a manager…

I would be a liar if I told you this is how things really ended, so, I guess, I should tell you the truth. While I was explaining the unfortunate ordeal to Mary and her children, I noticed a photo from the corner of my eye that made me do a double-take. While they looked like an ordinary family in the photograph, little did I know, they hid a dark secret. After I was finished talking, I asked who the man in the photo was, as I had noticed that he looked almost exactly like me. Mary was caught off guard by my question, and so she told me he was their father while pointing towards her children.

I wanted to meet this man as our resemblance was astonishing. I can't think of anyone who wouldn’t want to meet their doppelganger if they had the chance. “He’s away on business, I’m sorry you won’t get to meet him.” she replied in a serious tone. She then told me to have a seat in the kitchen while she tucked the kids in for the night, to which I happily complied. As I sat waiting for her return, I thought about the night that started all of this and began sobbing quietly as the events replayed in my head. I wish I could go back in time and save her, and myself, but sadly it is impossible. It is torture to think about things we cannot change. Nonetheless, sometimes we can't stop.

When I heard her coming down the steps, I quickly regained my composure and pretended to be reading the paper, which unfortunately contained false statements about me. When she approached me, she could clearly see I wasn’t alright. It shouldn't come as much of a surprise to you that I am not the most convincing of actors. She took a seat across from me and stared at me for a while. I assume she was contemplating what she was going to say before she began. "Since you've been honest with me, I’d like to be honest likewise. Their father isn’t away on business, I killed him."

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I was in utter shock, as anyone would be, if they found themselves sitting at a kitchen table, let alone anywhere, with a murderer. She noticed the sudden and exaggerated change in my expression. “It was an accident. He started choking me! I was desperate to escape his grasp, so I grabbed the nearest thing to me which was a knife, and I’m sure you can imagine the rest...” she said hastily in a worried tone.

Her eyes started filling with tears. “I hid his body and started telling everyone he’s away on business. I can’t go to jail, I have children!” she exclaimed with a shaky voice. She took a few minutes to recompose herself, as I sat in silence watching her do so. Suddenly, she looked up at me, I knew instantly from the look in her eyes that she had an idea. “Look, people are bound to start looking for him soon, his parents are starting to ask too many questions. I did you a favor by not turning you in. Could you please return it ?” She asked, almost begging me as her previously hopeless eyes gained a glimmer of hope. She explained to me that she wanted me to pretend to be her husband for a while and meet with his parents, in hopes of convincing them that he’s alive and well, at least until she could figure out how to flee the country without a trace. I knew I might regret agreeing to do it, but nonetheless, I did, as I knew I was her only hope to prevent her from meeting the same fate as I. She wasted no time in getting to the telephone. “Hello Carol, I have some great news! Robert just dropped by for a visit! Of course, you can come for dinner tomorrow.” When I heard her say this, my heart sank and I screamed internally.

Once she hung up, she assured me not to worry, she'd teach me all I needed to know in the morning. I didn't sleep that night. Not due to the fact that the couch was uncomfortable, but because I was anxious and conflicted. I couldn’t imagine the dinner going well. I’m a terrible liar, I mean actor. Yet, I would be lying to potentially save someone's life, as my friend recently did for me.

When Mary and her children awoke the next morning, we got straight to work. They taught me everything, from his favorite color to his favorite meal. Unfortunately for me, I have a horrible memory and had very little time to absorb all that information. The next thing I knew, Robert's parents arrived. It was quite apparent that I was nervous as the couple walked into the home. When his mother went in for a hug, things took a turn for the worst. “This isn't my son!” she exclaimed. It felt like a nightmare. It was a nightmare. We tried our best to explain why I didn't have Robert's birthmark, but nothing could explain why I didn't sound or act anything like him. It was game over. Then Carol asked me where her son was. That's when I responded with, “I killed him.” I was lying, of course. Mary tried to defend me, but her children's reactions was all they needed to believe my lie. The cops came soon after. In their eyes, I was already a cold-blooded killer, so it didn't take much to convince them. As we drove towards my certain death, the grateful look in Mary's eyes assured me I had lied for good cause. I hate saying goodbye, therefore, I never say it to anyone. This is because my uncle once told me, before his death, that it's never goodbye, but rather see you later, reassuring me that we would meet again someday. So I yelled: See you later! I don't think she heard me, but for the first time in my life, I hoped I was wrong.

Before I know it, I am back where I started, sitting in a jail cell and waiting to die for a crime I didn’t commit. I am a bird in a cage. Locked up for no reason. My one and only wish is to fly away. I am not sure if I believe there is a god. If there really is one, why does he let bad things happen to us? If he is so good and powerful, shouldn't he be preventing horrible things from happening to innocent people? If I was a god, they wouldn’t.

By the time you read this, I will be dead, as I am scheduled to be executed tomorrow morning before sunrise. I am happy that I am going to die, in a sense, because I am hopeful that my uncle was right and that I will be reunited with the woman I love the most. We should always try to find the good in every situation, no matter how bad it may seem. I hope you have learned a thing or two from my story and that you will never have to face the same fate as I. I also hope that when you think of me, you think of a noble man rather than a killer. With that, I say to you dear reader: See you later...