Last night, I walked into a police station and confessed to a murder.
THE CONFESSION
It took some time for the Police to understand what I was saying but I was eventually interviewed by Detective Sergeant Williams. I explained what had happened.
MOTIVE
My relationship with my victim had been very good, but over time, I had lost faith in him and recently he let me down very badly, humiliating me in front of my peers. Friendship turned to hatred and I knew that he had to die.
OPPORTUNITY
Although we mostly met in company with a host of others, it was relatively easy for me to engineer a situation where we were on our own. I don’t think he suspected what I intended to do.
MEANS
I spent some time fantasising over how to commit the murder. In the end, I decided to decapitate him. When it came to it, however, I could not face him and so turned him face down while I sawed through his neck.
Was it difficult? No, after all, I’m 5’ 10” tall and weigh 82 kg, while he is a 2” tall plastic wargaming fig …
It was at this stage that DS Williams stood up abruptly and terminated the interview.
AFTERMATH
They say that confession is a cathartic experience. I don’t really know what that means, but my experience suggests that it is something to do with being thrown out of a police station amidst mutterings of wasting police time and with veiled threats of what would happen were I to ever darken their doors again.
And so I have to live with my crime. The guilt I feel is made more unbearable by the dawning realisation that my former friend was not responsible for his actions and was in fact only a pawn in a larger game being played by my dice. And so, I have no choice but to consider their fate. Beheading is not practical, but melting them in a fire – that might work.
