I left her there, okay?  I did.  We argued; it wasn’t the thing to do, but it was a long time ago.  Being young and angry, I left her there.  Now I’m tired of thinking about it. The incompetence of the police isn’t my responsibility.  When I walked away, she was still shouting at me, so yeah, she was fine. 

We weren’t an item, really.  Sure we… you know.  It was convenient.  I can’t help what she wrote about me in her diary, she didn’t treat me like she… you know, loved me.  Let’s face it she couldn’t pronounce the word, I’m surprised she could spell it.

But listen, it’s been a good twenty years and I’ve moved on.  I don’t know what else I can tell you.  You know I was almost married once.  Then I ended up on some news brief on the anniversary of her death; the 10th, I think.  My fiance stopped coming around.  I even picked up the phone once and called.  She didn’t return my call.

So nobody’s as sorry as me.  Five years ago I hit a low spot.  I lost my job, and the bills were piling up.  I thought, what the hell, I’ll call the guys in polyester suits and confess.  But damn it, I didn’t do it.  I think that even my parents wonder if I killed her.

One more time?  Sure, you’re all liars, but okay, one more time, I’ll tell you all about it.

It was the ‘90s, we were big into music.  There was a sizeable crowd, the DJ was awesome and the music loud.  I thought at one point we were going to orgy; the place was that high and happy.  Around 3 AM we were all spent.  She didn’t want to leave, but I had to get home and pretend I wanted to go to church.  It was her car, you understand.  She wanted to stay and… you know.  But I was tired and we could do that anytime.  I told her so. She freaked.  She started yelling at me, I was nothing but a user and a hypocrite and she would tell my parents. 

Laughing in her face, I told her to go ahead – tell.  My parents would just pray over me and make sure she never came near me.   They were probably waiting for me at the front door.  I was seventeen years old. What could they do?  I told her I would call the police if she wanted to get nasty. She was the 21-year-old.

I was a reprobate: Not proud of everything I’ve done or said to people. Still I didn’t kill her.  I walked away with her screaming at me and that’s the last I saw her.  No, I didn’t catch a ride; I walked home.  And yes, it was quite the hike; I didn’t get home until 6AM.  Went to church like a good boy with my parents and they knew nothing until Wednesday when the police ended up at our front door. 

It’s been long enough now that I feel sorry for my Dad.  Big Baptist congregation and his one and only son in the middle of a murder investigation.  College went out the window because of the lawyer’s fees. The congregation slowly drifted away.  He’s a bitter man.  I speak to him and Mom once a week.  They don’t ask me to visit.  My Dad tells me he’s praying for me.  I don’t know how to pray. 

Listen, I wasn’t even charged.  Some think I did it, others say no way.  Those who vouch for me are or were church going little hypocrites like me who sneaked out of their parents’ house to smoke pot, have illicit sex and listen to beats. 

Who ever killed her decapitated her, so they meant it.  A messy way to end someone.  Not my style.  My style is to just walk away.  Too bad she couldn’t learn to do just that.  Wasn’t in her though, she always held her ground and screamed.  Maybe who ever did it felt he needed to quiet her down somehow. 

Come on, man, it’s a joke.