Jessica Jones was everything I ever wanted in a girl. She was voluptuous. She had more curves than a race track. Her skin shone like the sun; her eyes glistened like a cool blue pool of water. When she spoke, I swore I could hear angels singing. I was in love—so in love that I decided to take a risk and ask her out. Now I’m no hunk; everyone knows that, but I just thought that she might recognize in my passion for her a chance at real happiness. She didn’t.

I still remember the day she broke my heart. I walked up to her in the lunchroom, and I said, “Jessica, this isn’t easy for me, but I need to tell you something.”

“Who are you?”

The world stopped. She didn’t even know who I was. I turned and ran. This wouldn’t, however, be the last she saw of me.


Jessica arrived at the home of Tim and Jill Johnson to babysit. Little did she know that they were my cousins. Then, when I was ready, I called her. But she thought it was a prank call. So I called again and said I’m upstairs and with the kids. She said, “Who the truck is this?” I called her again and she said “Who is this?” Then I went to kill her. I killed her with a double-barreled shotgun and decapitated her. Then, when her boyfriend saw her, he called the police; when they got there, they saw me kill him. I went upstairs; they called the swat team. I started to kill the police. Just when I thought I was going to get away with it, I heard a gunshot I saw blood on my shirt; then I fell down…

When I woke up I was in the hospital. When I got out. They took me to the police station and they asked me some questions. I answered them all the truth. Then I was in prison for 20 years. I did my time in prison. I was 40 when I saw Jessica Jones again…