The Fame I Didn't Even Want

Most people wanted to be famous for their life-changing invention, or beautiful singing abilities. Or even for their popular book series. But I happened to be famous for none of these things. No, the kind of fame I had was one that made people crossed the street to avoid me or hold their children closer when I walked past.

         You may be wondering, why is that? What could you do to make people uncomfortable or even afraid of you? Well, to answer the question, I did absolutely nothing to deserve this. But tell that to the police.

         “Once again Officer, I did not kill him.” I stood up and grabbed the bars of my cell with shackled hands.

         The officer did not budge or even so much as blink. “You were at the scene of the crime and your fingerprints were found on the evidence.”

         “Sir,” I said, desperate now. “I was only at the scene because I heard someone scream. When I arrived, I saw the victim laying on the ground dying. I tried to help him, but I was too late.”

         The officer humphed. “That’s what you keep saying, but the evidence says otherwise.”

         “But officer, I-” I was cut off by another officer who pulled the first one away to say something. I sighed and slumped back on to the cot in my cell. I was never getting out of here. And all because I was trying to help.

         My mind went back to that horrible day of its own volition.

         I was walking home from work and had taken my usual route; it was a shortcut that I used when I was going home. I was walking down the empty street when I heard what sounded like a scuffle. I was going to ignore it and keep walking, but I felt the need to walk over.

         What I saw was a man lying on the ground holding his hand to his heart. I knew two things in that moment, it was no ordinary scuffle and the man was not going to survive. I tried to ease his pain, but there was little I could do.

         “I’m sorry sir,” I had said.

         He had struggled to draw a breath. “It was Elliston.” Then he was gone.

         The next thing I knew, I was grabbed from behind and handcuffed. Police swarmed to the scene followed by investigators, all while I was being pushed into the back of a police car.

         I tried to explain that I was trying to help, but the officer had simply given me that saying you hear in movies, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

         A week later, I was given a trial. The amount of people that showed up was surprising, but they weren’t there to support me. No, they all wanted to see the so-called Elliston, a well-known killer, persecuted. That trial had been horrible. I tried to tell everyone that I was not guilty, both of killing that man and being the Elliston, but no one, not even my lawyer, believed in my innocence. So, I was deemed guilty.

         My lawyer told me that if I pleaded guilty, I might get away with 50 years rather than a life sentence, but I was raised to be honest and plead not guilty.

         Which was the reason I now resided in a jail cell sentenced to life. How, I wondered, had my basic life turned into this nightmare. To go from being a person with a basic job, a loving family, a nice apartment, to a jail cell where everyone hated me and was in me for something I never committed.

         It sounded like something off of a movie, but unfortunately, I could not say “that’s a wrap” and walk away unscathed.

         I raised my head as the officer returned to my cell. His face was blank and I could not tell why he was back. Maybe he was finally willing to hear me out or maybe I was being transported. The thought made my heart pound. If I was transported, it would be too late for me to convince them that I was innocent.

         I held my breath as he drew closer to my cell and then my eyes widened as he pulled out a set of keys. He fiddled with a few before grabbing one and putting it into the door of my cell.

         “What is going on, Officer?” I felt myself start to panic. Was I going to be transported?

         The officer opened the door and gestured me out. “Follow me.”

         He led me into a room and shut the door. Two other people were already in the room and they turned to stare at me as I entered. “Sit down.”

         I sat.

         “These two are investigators. They have been looking for the one called Elliston for a while now. You are aware of the many killings that happened at the hand of this person?”

         I nodded, noticing that he had not implied that I was Elliston, but maybe that was just some sort of ploy.

         One of the other two people stepped forward and took a seat across from me. “We are not here to investigate you, but rather we are here to tell you the news. Thanks to you, we have caught the real Elliston.”

         I blinked. Was I hearing them correctly? “What do you mean?”

         The other one spoke. “During your trial, you were very insistent that you were innocent knowing that such a plea would not do you well if the judge found you guilty. Well, this made us suspicious and we decided to dig deeper into this case. We questioned quite a few people, discreetly of course, and narrowed it down.”

         The first one spoke again. “We figured that the person who killed the man was someone who knew of the area because it is not well travelled. After some further investigation, we figured out that the person who killed the man that day was someone you know.”

         I gaped at them. Someone I knew? How could that be? “What do you mean?”

         “It was your father. Your father is the elusive Elliston who has been killing all of those people. We figure that he was aware of this area and thought that it would be a good place. I assume that he knew that you would travel past and tried to frame you. Which he did. He is now residing in a prison cell soon to go to trail with a bunch of evidence against him. You are now free to go. You have been cleared of all wrongdoings.”

         I stared, too shocked to do anything else. First, I was put in a prison cell for something I did not do. Then I went to trial only to be found guilty and sentenced to life. I was then released and brought here. And now I found out that the real killer was my father and I was being released.

         The funniest part about the whole ordeal was that my first thought leaving prison was, this would make for a good book. So, I wrote one. Coming out of prison, I started writing. I wrote about the whole process of being wrongly convicted and the fame that I had not even deserved. I wrote about what it was like in prison and how I felt to be released. And lastly, I told everyone why they should never commit crimes because they would end up in jail, and they would not be wrongly convicted and released because their crimes would be their own.