Confession

It was the final day of the trial, just moments before Stan was being convicted for two murders. He already confessed his story once in a private chamber with his attorney and the prosecution, but halfway through they stopped listening and rejected the confession.

This led to him taking the stand and getting the judge to allow him to confess his side without interruptions. This is not what the prosecution wanted as it will shine some flaws upon them.

“Your Honor, I never thought I’d be in this position—sitting in court, accused of the murder of two men who, and I cannot emphasize this enough, DO NOT EXIST. You probably think I’ve lost my mind, and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but let me explain. It all started innocently enough. My wife, Melissa, overheard a conversation at work...”

Stan adjusted his collar. His hands were trembling slightly, but his voice stayed level.

“Melissa works as a secretary in one of those government buildings where they make you show ID at five different checkpoints, and then another guard pops out of nowhere just when you think you’re safe. Well, one day she overheard her boss talking about getting new computers for the office. Of course, being the wonderful and supportive wife she is, she immediately suggested me for the job—except she didn’t exactly pitch it as a regular contract. No, she practically gave it away for free, like it came with a side of fries and a soft drink.”

He looked around the courtroom, trying to gauge if anyone was following.

“Now, I’m not saying I wasn’t grateful. We needed the money. My IT business was struggling—I had more free time than actual work. But this was... well, let’s just say, when your profit margin is so low that your six-year-old nephew could beat it selling lemonade, you’re not exactly jumping for joy. But hey, it was a job, and I figured, why not?”

Stan smiled ruefully, glancing at Melissa, who sat in the back of the courtroom. She gave him a small nod.

“So I took the job. It wasn’t going well right from the start. I spent half my time filling out security clearance forms, and by the time I finally got in, I was too exhausted to care if the office printers were plotting my demise. But then something unexpected happened. I stumbled upon the government’s vital records database."

He shrugged, trying to look innocent.

“At first, I just thought, ‘Wow, this is cool.’ And then... well, we were struggling. Bills were piling up, rent was overdue, and Melissa had started getting creative with her casseroles. Trust me, Your Honor, you haven’t lived until you’ve eaten tuna casserole three days in a row. So, my mind started wondering while I was working and I somehow came up with an idea. Later that night I told Melissa about the database and my idea. She gave me that look—you know, the one where they’re not quite mad, just... disappointed. But, after a few hours of thinking, she woke me up in the middle of the night with what she called ‘a plan.’”

Stan leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly.

“And this is where things started to get a little... ridiculous. Not only did Melissa continue to think about the idea of using the database to create a fake person, but she suggested we go bigger. ‘Why stop at one?’ she said. ‘Why not make two? A married couple! There’s got to be more programs and grants for couples.’ And you know what? She was right. So, that’s what we did. We created Max and Clark—two regular guys, married, upstanding citizens... who didn’t exist.”

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the absurdity settle in.

“So that was the plan: I’d slip back into the vital records database and create two people—just, poof, out of thin air. These two new ‘friends’ would then go on to take out loans and apply for credit cards. Simple, right? The grand idea was for them to rack up a hefty balance and, naturally, use that to pay for my services. Then, when the time was right, they’d just... disappear. Fade into the wind like a bad dream.”

“Now, you’d think creating people out of thin air would be the hardest part, right? Nope. After a few minutes of typing and clicking away, they were created with social security cards and birth certificates on the way. The entire process took maybe an hour, but I spent that hour hunched over my computer, sweating bullets, convinced every beep was the FBI breaking down my door.

 The hardest part was developing their character, which was something Melissa enjoyed.  ‘Maybe Max is a dog lover,’ she said. ‘Or maybe Clark’s into charity work.’ It’s bad enough creating fake people—now I had to give them hobbies, too!”

The jury shifted in their seats, a few of them trying not to smile.

“Once we finished setting up their lives on paper, we waited. For weeks, nothing happened, and no one noticed anything. Then, one day, the paperwork for Max and Clark arrived in the mail, just like that. I used the vacant house next door as their address—figured no one would mind if imaginary people lived there. We even left a little note on the door asking the mailman to deliver anything to my house if they weren’t home. I mean, how could that possibly go wrong?”

Stan chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“We sat with the documents in hand for a while, maybe two or three months. We were still positive that the FBI was watching us, so we were very hesitant to act. But we eventually did.  

“But here’s where it gets even better. We decided that Max and Clark needed jobs. ‘They can’t just sit around doing nothing and expect to get approved for a credit card’ she said. So, guess who they ended up working for? Me. That’s right—Max and Clark were employed at Harper Tech Solutions. I even had fake payroll documents and everything. It was like running a whole other business on top of my actual failing one.”

The judge raised an eyebrow, but Stan pressed on.

“Then came the ID problem. We needed photos, right? So Melissa found two random homeless guys to pose as Max and Clark for their driver’s licenses. Naturally, we couldn’t just snap pictures as-is—we paid for the whole package: haircuts, fresh clothes, the works. And that’s when things really started spiraling out of control.

Max and Clark, our fake friends, were suddenly living their best lives. We made sure they paid every bill on time—utilities, credit cards, even their magazine subscription. It was the first time in our lives that we saw a credit score higher than 700. It didn’t take long for their pristine record to catch the attention of clients on my website. I put their polished, smiling photos up as part of my ‘team,’ and bam! Suddenly, I was getting extra work. People loved Max and Clark. Hell, they were more marketable than I was.

“It should’ve ended there… just... stopped. But of course, we didn’t. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Max and Clark needed backstories, right? So, whenever someone asked about them, I’d point to some random guy at the grocery store, the bank, wherever we happened to be, and say, ‘Oh, that’s Max.’ Meanwhile, Melissa would casually point and say, ‘That’s Clark.’ It became this weird inside joke between us, like we were playing some bizarre version of ‘Where’s Waldo?’—only with people who didn’t exist.”

“Then came the life insurance. It started off as a typical call—Margret, the woman on the phone, was having some kind of computer trouble and had reached out to me for help. Somehow, she assumed I was Max, and I didn’t bother correcting her. I saw a bit of an opportunity. Naturally, I did what any opportunist would do—I became Max. And what does Max do? Flirts. It started innocently enough, helping her troubleshoot some minor issue, but somehow it turned into her talking about life insurance. I thought, ‘Why not see how far this can go?’ Before I knew it, she offered Max and Clark a million-dollar life insurance policy. And all because I walked her through rebooting her computer. Not bad for a guy who doesn’t even exist, right?

Melissa got in on the action, too. She wrote a random blog post under Clark’s name—something about cupcakes or baking, I don’t know. Next thing you know, she’s voted ‘Best Cupcakes in Town’ by a local bakery association! We couldn’t believe it.

“The whole insurance thing gave us a taste for something bigger, and before I knew it, Max and Clark were applying for a mortgage. Not only did they get preapproved faster than I’ve ever seen, but they also qualified for five different grants that covered a huge chunk of the house. Here’s the funny part: Melissa and I knew the truth. We knew these guys didn’t exist. And yet, there we were, actually feeling jealous of our own creations.”

We soon moved out of our place and into the old abandoned house next door, which now, on paper at least, belonged to Max and Clark. Things were great for a while—too great. Melissa and I finally started to dig ourselves out of the financial hole we were in. Our credit scores were climbing, and we were even making plans to phase Max and Clark out. I figured I’d let them ‘move’ abroad and have them sell their house to us.

Stan looked around the courtroom, seeing the smiles and small laughs at his story. He then took a deep breath and let his smile fade as the story mood darkened.

"But then Melissa got sick. She needed surgery, and the medical bills piled up. Those next few months were some of the hardest we’d ever faced. Melissa came out okay, but our finances didn’t. We were broke, and so were Max and Clark, with all their credit maxed out."

"The power and water were shut off, and I’m ashamed to admit that I stole utilities just to keep us going until we could pay the bills.

We tried to bounce back, but we were deflated, or we were until I got the bill for the life insurance policy and had a horrible idea. Max and Clark would not be moving to their beautiful beach house around the world but instead would be in a fatal accident."

“I needed it to happen where no one could prove otherwise, and I thought it was going to take days, maybe weeks, to come up with an idea. But then, as I sat in my car, thinking of how to make Max and Clark disappear, a truck drove past me, towing his fishing boat.”

“The plan was simple. I’d leave a note for Melissa saying I went fishing with the boys and would be back later. Then, I’d rent a boat using Max’s credit card and buy bait with Clark’s card—making sure there was a paper trail that put both of them on the boat with me. The trick was timing it for a day when the water was rough and maybe a little overcast. That way, there wouldn’t be many other boaters around."

"I also made two dummies—like scarecrows, dressed in full fishing gear with face masks, glasses, and hats. It was just enough to make anyone watching think there were three people boarding the boat when really, it was just me."

"On December 2, everything went according to plan. I found myself miles offshore, bobbing in the ocean like a cork. I dismantled the dummies and started a pretty impressive electrical fire—turns out that was easier than I thought. I even made sure to have some alcohol on hand to act as an accelerant."

"Then came the acting. I radioed the coast guard, but as Max, lowering my voice a bit. I frantically asked for help, saying the boat was on fire and we were jumping into the rough seas. I even threw in a shout at ‘Clark’ for not putting his life jacket on before going overboard—figured that’d help explain why the body would never turn up."

"After ending the transmission, I jumped in the water. Since this was a premeditated fake murder, I made sure I had everything I needed for when rescue arrived. A flare gun and a foghorn, all safely tucked away in a bag until I saw them. Now, I know I sound calm retelling all this, but trust me—I was scared shitless.”

"The next few weeks were pretty standard. I was released from the hospital a few hours after arriving. Detectives visited me, asking me to recount different events, and finally, two days later, we received a call letting us know that they had called off the search for Max and Clark."

"Now we waited. Max and Clark were each other's beneficiaries, with Melissa and me next in line, so we assumed that eventually, the life insurance company and the lawyer who handled Max and Clark's will would contact us, leaving us all their assets—mostly their house-."

The judge looked down at Stan. “Is that what happened?”

“Yes. It took some time, but in the end, we received a check for almost seven hundred thousand, after taxes and fees, of course.”

We instantly deposited the check and paid off the house and any medical expenses we had, which was a lot. We spent more than half the money just on that. Then, the thought of getting caught plays through our minds. It was still possible, and we knew we would be in more trouble than we already were if we had no money to give back, so we left the rest in the bank."

“And then?” asked the judge.

“I thought we were home free. But a month later, the cops showed up at our door. At first, Melissa and I assumed we’d been caught in the insurance fraud, but no—things took a much darker turn. They arrested me for the possible murder of Max and Clark. Let that sink in for a second: I was being arrested for murdering two people who didn’t exist."

"I was shocked. Completely blindsided. I got a lawyer right away, and after talking it through with him and Melissa, I decided to trust the justice system to clear my name. After all, I was innocent of murder, right? It's just harmless fraud... or so I thought."

"The case moved forward, and things got worse. Much worse. The prosecution built a case against me that painted my company as a front for all sorts of illegal activities. They brought up evidence that Max wasn’t the upstanding guy we’d made him out to be. According to Margret—the life insurance agent I’d flirted with—Max was a drug-using womanizer pretending to be gay. And Clark? He was apparently involved in drug running and illegal weapons deals. They even dug up a paper trail connecting him to crimes in several states."

"We were shocked. How was there so much evidence of Max and Clark being involved in crime? I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, I wasn’t just the guy making fake people for some quick cash—I was being painted as the mastermind behind a criminal organization. The motivation for murder? Tying up loose ends."

"We saw the writing on the wall. I’d be going to jail for the murder of two fictional people. So, we decided to come clean. We thought the truth would set us free, but boy, were we wrong."

"We sat down in a small office with our lawyer, the prosecutors, the lead detective, and a state representative. I laid it all out—how Max and Clark were made up, how we faked everything. But when I was done, they asked for proof, and well... I’d made sure to get rid of anything that connected us to the crime. They weren’t about to look like fools, so they ignored my confession and pushed ahead with the murder charges."

"Two days ago, just after my confession, I was approached by a private detective. He said he was following the case and believed me to be innocent of murder. He offered to get the proof needed for a fee. It was a very outrageous fee but one I had no option but to take."

"And here we are."

“Detective, did you find anything?”

The detective nodded, standing to address the court.

“Alright,” the judge said, “let’s take a short recess. Both lawyers, the detective, and the defendant, please meet me in my chambers.”

During the meeting, the detective revealed that two men from another state had stolen the identities of Max and Clark and used those names to commit crimes. These same men were arrested under the fake identities and had even testified against a major crime boss. This twist was the reason Stan had been suspected of murder, but ironically, it was now the key to clearing him of both the murder and the fraud charges.

The detective went on to explain that the two men who stole Max and Clark’s identities had resumed using their real names, meaning Max and Clark were, on paper, still able to ‘die’ in a fishing accident, leaving the judge with a difficult decision.

In the end, the judge returned to the courtroom and declared the case closed, ruling Stan innocent on all counts.

Later, Stan and Melissa sat on their back porch, sharing a bottle of wine. They did the math—after buying the house, paying the lawyer fees, covering the hospital bills, and handing over the cash to the detective, they had exactly thirty-six cents left in their bank account. Thirty-six cents.

As well as their freedom and a house.