It’s my twentieth birthday. My life sentence has started and it’s hell in here. They say it gets easier but I can’t see how this will ever be easy.
Bobby Greaves should be in here, not me. I should be with Naomi. I miss her so much and I think about her all the time. What must she think of me? I don’t suppose it really matters now. She’ll meet someone and forget about me. Good luck to her. I hope things work out for her. She can do so much better than me.
I feel like such a fool.
Everyone knew Bobby Greaves. Bobby was my hero and I worshipped him. He didn’t know me but that didn’t matter. I wanted to know him. Bobby was a feared man. You didn’t look at him if you saw him out with his mates. You tried to be hard, like him. You tried to be cool, like him.
I knew Bobby was up to no good. What fascinated me was he never got caught. If he was ever questioned by the police he was always released about an hour later. He was clever. The police seemed to like him. Bobby helped them from time to time and they would return the favour. It was common knowledge Bobby’s boss, Charlie Fraser, had a few of them on his payroll.
Word got out Charlie wanted Fat Ali dead and buried. Charlie would never gain complete control of things whilst Fat Ali was alive. Fat Ali was a wealthy man. Charlie wanted it all and he wanted it now so he ordered Bobby to kill Fat Ali. Fat Ali considered himself untouchable. He wasn’t scared of anyone. He knew of Bobby and was a little wary of him, but not scared.
I was just a petty criminal. I couldn’t even deal weed without getting caught or resorting to violence. I desperately wanted to be one of Charlie’s men. I never made any real money from what I was doing. At least Charlie could offer me protection. He knew everyone. I didn’t have the right contacts. I had to do something. I wanted to make lots of money and quickly. We had nothing. My girlfriend Naomi worked part-time and studied part-time. She wanted to work in a Bank so she was brushing up on her GCSEs. Nobody would give me a job because of my criminal record.
How could I get in with the big boys? Bobby didn’t trust anyone. Why would he? I couldn’t speak to him. I was too nervous of him. What could I offer him that he didn’t already have or couldn’t go out and get for himself?
I was shocked when one of Charlie’s boys approached me in the street. He told me Bobby needed protection. I was to stay close to Bobby. I agreed straight away. I knew what I had to do. I was a look out. I would only get involved if there was any trouble. My chance had arrived. I was in heaven.
One night, last year in August, I was told to follow Bobby. He was headed towards Fat Ali’s restaurant. Fat Ali spent most of his time in his restaurant. He controlled everything from there. I knew what went on in that restaurant.
As we approached the restaurant, Bobby pointed at one of those enormous dustbins you see on the street. I understood he wanted me to crouch behind it and hide. Bobby stood around the side of the restaurant and waited.
Fat Ali stepped out of his restaurant and walked into the alley next to it. Bobby crept up behind him and put one hand over Fat Ali’s mouth and dragged him down. With the other hand he stabbed Fat Ali straight through his heart. Bobby took the knife out of Fat Ali, wrapped it in a small towel and put it in his pocket. All the while, he kept his gloves on. Then, Bobby headed into the direction of the market square. He looked back at me and indicated he wanted me to follow him.
I stood up. I stopped to look at Fat Ali. I leaned into his corpse. It was very dark. He was still holding the mobile phone in his hand. His mouth was open and his eyes were too. There was blood everywhere. I started sweating and I was panting quite loudly. I could almost hear my heart beating. I had to get out of there. I should have walked but instead my feet told me to run.
As I ran into the market square I collided with an old man and knocked him to the floor. He kept staring at my shoes. He told me to stop but I didn’t want to know.
I needed a drink so I headed for the first pub I saw. I walked up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. I never drank the stuff but I needed to relax. Standing next to me at the bar was Bobby. He was as cool as you like and didn’t look like someone who had just committed a murder. He ordered a pint and sat down. He lit a cigarette and made a quick call on his mobile. I had four or five more whiskeys and staggered out of the pub onto the pavement. I didn’t know where I was. What just happened? Did I just see a dead body? I was very drunk.
Bobby was waiting for me outside. He started to walk towards Castle Street. He walked into a derelict building and I followed him inside. It was cold, damp and dark. Suddenly, someone shone a torch in my eye and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. When I was able to focus I saw Bobby standing above me. I thought I was in for a kicking so instinct told me to get up and lash out. My punch landed somewhere on Bobby and he fell to the floor. The knife he was holding flew out of his hand. I slid across the floor and held the knife out in front of me expecting Bobby to come for me. I shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to stay upright. I was all over the place. I couldn’t see clearly. Bobby held me at arms length and smiled.
“Where am I?” I asked him.
“Don’t worry son,” he said. “You’ll be alright.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Just then, some policemen ran into the room. They dragged me and put me on the floor, face down. I started to cry. They handcuffed me and dragged me outside on to the street. People started pointing at me. One of the policeman thanked Bobby for the tip-off. Bobby walked towards a parked car. He got inside and looked at me. He started laughing. I couldn’t believe it.
I was taken to the station and questioned. They said Ali was murdered and I was the chief suspect. I pleaded my innocence. I couldn’t hold my head up. It was aching. It was pounding. I wanted all this to end.
“You’ve been a naughty boy,” said the interviewing policeman.
“I want to go home,” I said.
“I’m sure you do,” he said.
“I didn’t do it!” I cried.
“You’re a murderer and a liar!”
“No, I’m not!” I cried. “Please believe me.”
They all started laughing. I’ll never forget their faces. I was sitting there scared out of my mind and they were all laughing. One of them offered me a cigarette as if that would make it all better.
My fingerprints were all over the knife. The police spoke to the man I knocked down in the market square. Looking back, it was almost as if he threw himself at me. He said my shoes were covered with blood.
Naomi got the job at the Bank the very next day. She received a telephone call saying she could start the following Monday. She told them she wouldn’t be taking the job. I’d ruined everything. She wouldn’t believe me when I said it wasn’t me. I said it was Bobby Greaves but she told me to stop inventing people. She wanted to know how she ever fell for someone like me. I felt terrible. I was sick to my stomach. How could they do this to me?
I lost everything. I have no chance of happiness now. I am stuck here. No future. No life. I hope I can find a way to be happy. I have no idea about parole. I am so angry right now I could seriously do myself some damage. Someone is always around to make sure I don’t harm myself. The way I see it, I couldn’t do much more harm. I can only blame myself. Bobby Greaves will never change. His sort never do. My sort have no choice but to change…
