l.a.+paper.+ATTWN.+yessuh.

Tiffaney Williams February 1st, 2008 Ruby

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, After this long and grueling journey on Indian Island, some might say that they have found a level of insanity not yet known to mankind. But why, must you say that I am mad? I am not insane. I had one purpose and one purpose only, and that was to commit a murder. I wanted to kill. Oh, how I had wanted to kill! I didn’t want their lives to end by a death sentence in court, for it was my job. Too long I’ve been waiting to do this deed; pleasurable to me, horrid to others. These people, all of which committed crimes and I let them get away. Oh, I let them get away! Not for long, though, for I was about to commit the ultimate crime that would bring all of these pitiful murderers together into one place. I knew, oh I knew, they would drive themselves up a wall as they began to unexpectedly disappear, one by one. I had put a surplus amount of thought and concentration into this ingenious plan, for no other mastermind could ever think up such a complex scheme. Let me remind you once again, though, that I am certainly not mad. It is just the keen inner-workings of my cerebrum that allowed me to plan these nine unlucky fates. Let me walk you through my well though out plan so that you can fully see the way things happened. I sat myself down, and carefully ruled out who would die first, and who would die last. I decided on the first man that needed to go. Tony Marston. This happy-go-lucky man didn’t care about anything but polishing the silver rims on his expensive sports car. Cared too much, for he couldn’t even stop speeding for the smallest possible second to change the fate of John and Lucy Combes. I just slipped a little bit Potassium Cyanide into Anthony Marston’s almost empty glass. The sight of his face turning a sickly purple was the greatest sight that my eyes have ever seen. To some it might have been a bit nauseating, but for me it was a joyous sight. My plan was working, perfectly. Then the next to go was Mrs. Rogers. I wanted her to die in a peaceful sleep, so when I got enough Chloral Hydrate which is a sleeping draught. I put it into the brandy that Mr. Rogers had brought up to her. In the morning when everyone woke up, Mr. Rogers confronted Dr. Armstrong about his wife, and the doctor confirmed that she was dead, indeed. Two down, seven to go. The third death was going to be that of General Macarthur. He had a wife, a beautiful wife. The sight of her with another man hurt him deep. He didn't want her to be with anyone else but himself. So, he did something to ensure the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about this man anymore. But I knew that I wanted to kill him next, so when he went out to look at the sea, I would do the deed. Everyone would search around to find poor old General with a blow to the head. Onto the fourth person on my list, Mr. Rogers. Everyone knows him as the butler. Now, I'm not going to get into the whole story about what he did to deserve getting here, but telling you what I did to him would be sufficient. He was chopping wood in order to make breakfast for everyone, and as he was bending over, I came up behind him and chopped right into his head. Morbid, I know. If I could see that sight again, I would. Who next? Emily Brent. HAH, I made it look like she got stung in the neck by a bee, when really, I just injected some poison into her neck when no one was around; I had to follow the nursery rhyme, you know; Number