My name is Bob and I will be dead in 20 minutes

Day 15 — Create a character who is falsely accused of a crime.



My name is Bob and in twenty minutes my life will end.

It may not be exactly twenty minutes but it won’t be longer than thirty.

I am in the room nicknamed the antechamber.  The penultimate room I will ever be in. The room has grey walls and even darker grey chairs.  Two chairs, one for me that I am chained to and one for the minister sitting with me.  There is no window to give me one last glimpse of the world outside of this prison.

We sit in silence.  I am not religious and I had done all my begging, praying, trading to save me from this miserable end.  I didn’t want to hear how Christ forgave my sins if I confessed.  Confession got me this far I sure as hell didn’t need any more “help” from confession!

You know how they say everyone in prison claims to be innocent.  Well I am and tonight I will die for a crime I did not commit.

Please note that I didn’t say that I was innocent.  That is because I am not innocent, except for the specific crime that I am sentenced to die for.  I am innocent of that.

Four years ago I was casing an expensive joint for my next robbery job.  I had worked out my insertion point, the rhythm of the guards and the routine of the home owners.  I remember thinking that it was more of a museum than a home.  Perfect for me.

I made my way into the house and began collecting the specific items that I wanted and could carry.  I entered a long hall and I thought I heard voices so I ducked into a linen cupboard.  In the echo of the feet upon the stairs behind me, I continued to the room where the majority of the items I wanted where stored.

I pointed my torch light around the room, finally lighting on the ground in front of me.  I froze, there was a man down on the floor and blood was slowly seeping out from under his body.  He was barely alive but I knelt and tried to save him or at the least not let him die alone.

When it was over.  A sanitised version of the poor man died but I didn’t know him.  At least he didn’t die alone.  I got my items and left the home.  Its my job and I am nothing if not professional.  I believed I was home free.  Apparently my compassion for the dying man led to my being identified.  I must have sweated on him or touched something and left enough DNA for comparison with the sample that I gave when I was caught stealing earlier in my career.

Despite all the evidence I provided about the men I heard, the time for checking the camera feeds and that there were two men.  Despite limited physical evidence that I had killed the man, the weapon never being found and no power residue on my gloves.  I was charged with his murder and convicted.

A conviction based on my being there as opposed to any real evidence.  What is worse he was a cop.  The theory being that he had caught me in the act and I had killed him.  Even more condemning was that the state that the crime occurred in had the death penalty.

So my name is Bob and I will die in ten minutes.  Before I do let me introduce myself.  I am a short, balding man of 50 years.  I have a wiry frame that has become even more gaunt with the time in jail.  I consider myself intelligent but did not complete high school.  I learnt my career skills from the street and worked my way up from pick pocketing to being self employed.   I owe no debt bar potentially one to society for being a gifted thief.  I have funded my own lifestyle and that of my ex and single child, I leave out their names for their own privacy.  I am not even sure they will know I am gone or if they did that they might mourn me.

So while my reputation has garnered fans and acclaim in the theft world, to the extent that I can be “booked” so to speak for employment, I am solitary in my life.  I was born and dumped into a system and now I will now die by the hands of a not dissimilar service.

My name was Bob.



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