Confession by Gary Whitmore - HTML preview

Chapter 5

A Killer’s Tale story by Allan Stein…

“My name is Jimmy Nalla. Have you ever wondered why humans kill other humans?”

Some humans kill because of war, and they must protect their country from others who are deemed evil.

Some humans kill because it involves money that was stolen from them or their desire to get it the easy way.

Some humans kill to protect their power.

Some humans kill because their lover cheated on them.

Some humans kill in the name of self-defense.

Some humans are killed by accident and didn’t mean for the other humans to die.

But some humans kill because they love it. It excited them for some sick reason. Jimmy loved killing. Why? Well, maybe because it started when he was a young lad.

Boldger was a quiet, sleepy town in the lower western part of the State of Alabama, twenty miles from the Mississippi border.

It was 1948, and Boldger had a population of two thousand six hundred and thirty people. A quarter of the town’s population was the colored folk, but they were often called by the offensive “N” word. It was the sign of the times in the Deep South, and life was grand if you were white.

The primary industries that sustained Boldger during this time were sawmills, cotton fields, dairy farms, and chicken farms. And, of course, Moonshine was still deep in the woods.

Boldger was also home to twelve-year-old Jimmy Nalla. Jimmy lived with his father, Melvin, his mother, Elizabeth, and his seven-year-old brother Ricky.

Melvin Nalla owned Nalla Ford, which was located in the center of the town. Melvin’s father, Gus, founded the Ford dealership in Bolder in 1925.

Gus retired in 1942 and let Melvin take over the business. Melvin planned to allow Jimmy to take it over when he reached age.

It was now August 21, 1948, another hot, muggy, sticky Saturday with a clear blue sky.

It was high noon, and the Little Baseball field of Boldger was in full swing with a game between the Badgers and the Rattlesnakes. These were the only two teams in the town, so they played only against each other.

Young Jimmy was on the Badgers and was one of their worst players. Jimmy’s only friend, besides his brother Ricky, was the only other lousy player. This kid was Homer Maris and was deemed dumb and often poked at by the other kids.

Jimmy played right field today, missed a lot of fly balls, and struck out most of the time.

Because of this, he would take ribbing from some of the more talented players like Ralph Johnston.

Ralph would be Jimmy’s nemesis for the rest of his youth.

The game was in the bottom of the ninth inning.

The Badgers were losing to the Rattlesnakes by ten to three.

Jimmy had struck out twice, hit a grounder, and was thrown out at first base.

Ricky Nalla watched the game from the edge of the woods by the outfield. He loved his big brother Jimmy and always felt terrible when Jimmy performed poorly. Since there was no way for the Badgers to come up from behind and win the game, Ricky decided to go home.

At the edge of the woods, way over by left field, stood a twelve-year-old colored boy named Joey Sampson. He had one trait: his left nostril was smaller than his right nostril.

Joey loved the game of baseball, but the colored boys were not allowed to play with the whites. That often brought tears to Joey’s eyes as he wanted to play in Little League for years. But he had to accept the way of these times in the Deep South. So, he would often watch the games from the woods, as this was a safe location.

He turned around and started walking off into the woods.

After five minutes of walking in the woods, Ricky found a long stick in the dirt. “Perfect,” he said while he bent down and picked up the stick. He held the long stick and pointed it like a gun. “Bang!” he sounded, pretending to fire off a bullet.

Ricky strutted into the woods and pretended his long stick was an M1 rifle. It was Ricky against the Nazis that were trying to take over the town of Boldger.

He stopped behind a pine tree as he thought he heard some Germans approaching. He had his M1 rifle ready and peeked around the tree trunk.

He aimed with his stick rifle. “Bang! You’re dead, you stinking Nazi!” he said and got a huge smile pretending he killed an evil person.

Ricky stepped away from the tree and cautiously inched through the woods. He scanned the area for any more sightings of other Nazis.

He inched his way through the woods for another ten minutes peeking around the trees in search of the evil Nazis.

He walked for another two minutes when a sound filled the air in the woods. “Ahhhh!” a girl’s voice gave a bone-chilling scream that echoed in the woods.

Ricky stopped dead in his tracks and scanned in the direction of her scream. He stood for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. His curiosity took over as he had to investigate.

He cautiously walked and snuck from pine tree to pine tree to locate the scream’s source.

“Ahhhh!” the girl screamed louder, and Ricky knew he was getting closer.

Ricky inched another hundred feet and saw some commotion ahead between trees.

Ricky tiptoed in that direction and was observant that he did not step on any branches to give away his position.

The second he saw a fat sweaty redneck named Buster Chaney, Ricky hid behind a thick pine tree ten feet away.

Buster Chaney was a forty-year-old fat slob redneck from Mississippi. He had greasy black hair that he slicked back. His face always had a week’s growth of beard stubble, and his teeth had never seen a dentist, let alone a toothbrush. They were stained and rotten and would make any woman sick when he smiled.

He always wore overalls that hadn’t been washed in six months. His tee shirt, which was once white, now had a gray tinge to it because of his nasty sweat.

Buster wasn’t married, as what woman would want a slob like him on top of her. He made his living by making and selling Moonshine.

Ricky peeked around the tree trunk and got a glimpse of Buster, who stood bare-ass naked but still wore his black work boots. His filthy coveralls, tee, shirt, and dirty boxers lay in the dirt by a tree.

Ricky stared at the sight of Buster’s fat hairy ass cheeks and hairy back. He wanted to vomit in the dirt. “Gross,” he thought with dry heaves.

Buster wrapped his hands around the neck of a fourteen-year-old colored girl named Gale. She was stripped entirely naked and dangled from Buster’s grip.

Ricky had never seen a naked girl before, and the sight of her turned him on.

“So, you think you’re gonna tell?” Buster yelled at Gale.

He walked her over to a big pine tree and squeezed her throat with a tighter grip. “No, you won’t,” he yelled, then repeatedly slammed the back of Gale’s head into the tree trunk.

All Ricky could hear was the thud, thud, thud, sounds of the back of Gale’s head slamming against the tree trunk. “AHHHH!” cried out Gale, as the pain in the back of her head was excruciating.

Gale was suddenly quiet. Her body went limp with a blank stare from her eyes. Buster let go, and she dropped to the dirt.

She was dead. Buster looked at the tree trunk and saw a blood stain. He was proud of himself.

“Stupid colored girl thinking she would tell on me,” Buster said, then gave her a hard, swift kick in her temple with his right boot.

Ricky’s nose twitched, and he knew what was coming. He pinched his nose and fought hard not to sneeze. That did not work, and he sneezed from behind his tree.

Buster’s ears perked up, and they immediately turned around, looking toward that sound. He knew this wasn’t some critter in the woods.

Ricky peeked around the tree trunk and saw Buster approaching him. He got scared and ran off back toward the baseball field.

Buster ran after Ricky as fast as his fat body would allow him.

Ricky turned around and saw Buster running naked after him.

Buster huffed and puffed while he ran, and more sweat poured out of his skin.

Ricky looked forward and saw a bush in front of him near a pine tree with a curved trunk. It was too late. He ran into the bush and tumbled to the ground.

He looked up and saw Buster’s fat naked, sweaty body that towered over him with dangling balls and a small pecker pointing down at him. Buster was pissed while he huffed and puffed for oxygen.

“Well, well, I seem to have a witness!” Buster said while he reached down. He grabbed Ricky by his throat and lifted him. He glared at Ricky with fire in his eyes.

Ricky peed his pants, and his legs started to tremble with fear.

“This will be your last piss!” Buster said the second he saw the big pee stain on Ricky’s crotch.

Buster squeezed Ricky’s neck.

Ricky gasped for air while Buster’s tight grip closed off his supply.

Then, there was a sudden whack sound behind Buster.

Ricky noticed Buster’s widened and surprised eyes. Then another whack sound came from behind Buster. “Ahhh!” Buster cried out in excruciating pain and loosened his grip on Ricky’s throat.

Ricky dropped to the ground at the same time; Buster dropped to his knees in pain.

Ricky quickly sat up when he realized he was free and scooted safely away on his butt.

He saw his brother Jimmy still in his Badgers baseball uniform, holding a baseball bat. Ricky smiled in relief that Jimmy had come to his rescue.

Jimmy had hatred in his eyes while he gripped the bat tighter.

Buster turned around and saw Jimmy. “I’m going to kill you, you little turd!” he yelled out while he started to stand up.

Jimmy swung the bat and made contact with Buster’s jaw. Blood and a couple of rotten teeth flew everywhere.

Buster dropped to the ground, stunned. He got up on his knees to lunge after Jimmy. But Jimmy swung the bat again and smacked Buster’s crotch. Buster froze in excruciating pain while he cupped his crotch. Jimmy swung again and smacked Buster in his left temple.

Buster dropped to the ground with a blank, lifeless stare.

Ricky stared at the motionless redneck.

Jimmy poked at Buster’s chest with his bat. No movement, just a blank stare of disbelief. Jimmy loved the sight of the dead redneck. Then he repeatedly beat Buster’s head and split it wide open. Buster was dead in a pool of blood.

“Go home, Ricky, and never tell anybody about this! It’ll be our secret forever, little brother,” Jimmy told him.

Ricky stood up. “Okay, Jimmy,” he replied, and then they locked pinkies to seal their promise.

Ricky ran off through the woods, scared yet relieved that Jimmy saved his life.

Jimmy stared down at the dead redneck with interest.

He smiled over his accomplishment. It felt like a David and Goliath tale.

He turned and saw the dead-colored girl, Gale. He became curious, so he walked over to her.

He dropped his bat to the ground and knelt alongside the girl. This would be the first time he saw a naked girl, and he couldn’t resist the temptation.

Jimmy reached out and touched all the dead girl’s private parts. Her death made it even more exciting for some sick reason.

He stood up, grabbed his bat, and walked away. He stopped when he was ten feet from the scene and looked back at the two naked bodies. He suddenly enjoyed the feeling of killing that redneck gave him. He rushed away with a satisfied smile on his face. He did not notice the blood on the tip of his bat.

This would be the moment in Jimmy’s life where he enjoyed killing another human being. August 21, 1948, would be the day that would change Jimmy’s life forever.

What Jimmy didn’t realize was that young Joey Sampson was also in the woods at that exact moment. Joey Sampson had his left nostril that was smaller than the right nostril. He would have to cover his nose if he robbed a bank, as that difference in his nostrils would give him away in a lineup.

Joey had seen the part where Jimmy whacked Buster with the bat while Buster was on his knees.

Joey cautiously followed while Jimmy rushed through the woods.

Jimmy rushed out of the woods and entered the city limits of Boldger. He was unaware Joey Sampson had been trailing him.

Jimmy saw Joey walk out of the woods in the same direction he had come. He got scared and ran off.

Joey stood by the edge of the woods, a little nervous, knowing Jimmy had spotted him. He didn’t know what to do.

His eyes lit up with an idea, and he ran off toward the center of Boldger.

Fifteen minutes later, Joey raced into fifty-five-year-old Sheriff Nate Damon’s office. He thought that telling him what he saw in the woods would keep him in the Sheriff ’ Damon’s good graces.

Sheriff Damon always wore a khaki uniform, as that was the dress code for his department. He sat with his brown cowboy boots kicked up on his desk. The office was typically quiet today.

He noticed Joey running to his desk, out of breath. “What the hell do you want, boy?” Nate said, irritated that Joey was in his office. He hated people of color with a passion.

“Mister Nate, I saw Jimmy Nalla beat some white man in the woods. He used a baseball bat,” Joey cried out of breath. “That man is dead.”

Nate removed his boots from his desk and stood

up. He glared down at Joey. “Okay, boy. I’ll check it

out. Now get the hell out of my office,” Nate said, then lit a Lucky Strike.

Joey ran out of Nate’s office and wondered if he did the right thing.

Nate sat back down and smoked his cigarette. He wasn’t concerned about some story coming from a colored boy.

Later that Saturday night, Jimmy snuck out of the house at one in the morning. He held his baseball bat while running down the dark and quiet street.

He ran through town and headed over to the colored section. He was on a mission that could only be accomplished in the middle of the night when everybody was sound asleep.

Three days passed, and two residents of Boldger named Elmer and Howie were in the woods hunting for squirrels that afternoon. It would be dinner for tonight.

They stumbled upon Buster and Gale’s naked dead bodies in the woods.

“What the fuck?” said Elmer while he stared down at the dead naked bodies.

“That looks like Buster Chaney,” said Howie.

“It is,” replied Elmer, who was pissed that Buster was killed because he and Howie were frequent customers of Buster’s Moonshine.

“We better get Nate,” said Howie while he stared down at the dead naked bodies.

“You’re right,” replied Elmer

Elmer and Howie ran off through the woods, returning to their car.

An hour had passed, and Sheriff Damon and overweight sixty-year-old Deputy Ernie Hughes were in the woods with Elmer and Nate.

“Yep, that’s Buster alright,” said Sheriff Damon, as he was a frequent customer of Buster’s Moonshine.

“Looks like we got a murder on our hands, Sheriff,” said Deputy Hughes.

“No shit,” said Sheriff Damon, and he always thought Deputy Hughes was getting too old with being a deputy.

The four just stared at the dead bodies for a few seconds.

“I better go round up Doc Stone,” said Sheriff Damon. Then he looked at Deputy Hughes. Do you think you can keep people from messing with my crime scene?” he said.

“You bet, Sheriff,” said Deputy Hughes, and this was his first murder case involving a white man.

“I hope so,” said Sheriff Damon while he had doubts. “I need you two to come to my office and complete a report,” he told Elmer and Howie.

“Sure, Sheriff,” said Elmer, and Howie nodded in agreement.

Sheriff Damon, Elmer, and Howie walked away, leaving Deputy Hughes alone in the woods.

After five minutes, Deputy Hughes started to get the creeps being alone in the woods with two dead bodies. Every critter that made a sound caused Deputy Hughes to remove his pistol from his holster to defend himself from being attacked.

After all, he didn’t know if that killer was still lurking in the woods.

An hour had passed, and Doc Stone had Buster and Gale’s dead bodies in the morgue of the small hospital of Boldger.

Later that evening, Sheriff Damon drove over to Melvin Nalla’s house in his 1940 black with a white squad car. He recalled Joey Sampson’s claim on what he saw in the woods on Saturday. He decided this was his first visit for his official investigation.

He got out of his car and walked up to the front porch, knocking on the screened door.

Melvin appeared in a tee shirt with a Mason jar containing a little Moonshine at the bottom. He had a lit Lucky Strike cigarette dangling out of his cracked lips. “Why Nate, what brings you to my house?” he asked, then took a sip of Moonshine.

“Well Melvin, it appears we found Buster Chaney’s dead body out in the woods naked along with the dead body of a young naked colored girl,” he replied, then he looked sad.

The screen door creaked open while Melvin stepped on the wooden front porch. He looked sad. “Poor Buster. His daddy will be devastated. Do you know how he died?” said Melvin while he glanced down at the Moonshine in his jar. This was Moonshine Melvin, who had bought it from Buster two months ago.

“Appears someone beat him to death, according to Doc Stone. His head was split wide open.”

“Who would do such a horrible crime?” Melvin asked and fumed inside that a fellow KKK member was murdered.

“Well, on Saturday afternoon, a young colored boy named Joey Sampson ran into my office. He claimed that your boy Jimmy beat Buster with a baseball bat. I thought that boy was trying to stir up trouble, so I didn’t think much of it.”

Melvin looked back inside his house. “Jimmy, get your ass out here,” he yelled out.

They waited a few minutes, and then Jimmy appeared at the screen door. “Yes, sir,” he said, getting nervous at the sight of Sheriff Damon on the front porch.

“Sheriff here says that a colored boy, Joey Sampson, saw you beating someone in the woods on Saturday. Did you do that?” Melvin asked in a stern tone.

“No sir,” Jimmy lied through his teeth and started to shake, fearing another whopping from Melvin.

“Then why would that colored boy say that?” he asked Jimmy.

Jimmy thought hard for a believable lie and got nervous while Melvin and Sheriff Damon eyed him for an answer. He had one. “I was going to tell you, but someone stole my baseball bat on Saturday after the game. I saw Joey Sampson’s father run into the woods with a bat. I thought he stole my bat, so I ran after him.”

“That colored man Sampson stole your bat?” asked Sheriff Damon.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why didn’t you tell me on Saturday?” asked Melvin in a raised tone that Jimmy knew his dad was pissed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

Jimmy paused briefly and knew he had to continue his lie. “Afraid that Joey Sampson’s paw would kill me.”

“Why?” asked Sheriff Damon.

“Because I saw Joey Sampson’s paw beat a man with my baseball bat. He beat him because that man was naked with a colored girl,” said Jimmy, then he silently prayed the two would believe his story.

Sheriff Damon looked at Melvin. “Sounds like what happened. That colored girl was Gale Washington. She lived on the same street as Sammy Sampson. Never did like him. One of those uppity colored folk.”

“Yep. Another of our uppity colored folk,” said Melvin.

“I’ll have to take care of this sad situation,” said Sheriff Damon, looking at Melvin.

“Yep. I’ll call a meeting later tonight,” said Melvin. Then he took a little swig of his Moonshine.

“Call me when you get things arranged,” replied Sheriff Damon, then he walked off the porch and returned to his squad car.

Melvin looked down at Jimmy. “Get to your room,” he said and looked pissed.

Jimmy knew what was going to happen next. “Yes sir,” he said, then walked away.

Jimmy walked down the hallway and went into his bedroom. He stood there and waited by his bed.

Melvin entered and placed his Mason jar of Moonshine on the floor. He removed his belt from his pants. “Drop your drawers, boy,” he snarled out while his belt was in a loop in his right hand.

Jimmy removed his blue jeans and lowered them to his ankles. He then lowered his white boxers to his ankles and bent over on his bed.

“Don’t you ever let some dumb fucking colored man make you scared,” yelled Melvin. Then he swung his belt, and it cracked against the bare white cheeks of Jimmy’s ass.

Jimmy cringed over the pain of his paw’s belt, hitting his bare ass cheeks.

“Never,” yelled out Melvin while he gave Jimmy’s ass cheeks another whack with his belt.

Jimmy cringed and fought off from crying over a beating by his paw. He learned a long time ago that crying would make the beatings last longer.

After three more cracks of Melvin’s belt against Jimmy’s bare ass, he stopped and placed his belt back on his pants.

Melvin quietly picked up his Mason jar and left Jimmy’s bedroom.

Jimmy fought hard not to cry while pulling up his boxers and blue jeans. He smiled, knowing that he got away with killing a human being. So, this beating from his father would be nothing compared to if they believed Joey’s story.

Elizabeth was preparing fried chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner in the kitchen.

She heard the crack of Melvin’s belt hitting Jimmy’s bare ass cheeks.

She hated it when Melvin beat the boys with the belt. After all, that was the way Gus Nalla raised Melvin, and he figured it made him a better man.

Melvin walked into the kitchen with his Mason jar of Moonshine still in his hand. He was still pissed with Jimmy while he took a swig of Moonshine.

“Mel, Jimmy was scared. You can’t fault him for that,” she said.

Melvin glared at Elizabeth and hated it when she tried to tell him he might be wrong to punish the boys. He smacked her across her face. “Shut the fuck up and do your job of getting dinner ready,” he yelled at her, then stormed out of the kitchen.

Elizabeth’s eyes welled up, and she hated it when Melvin hit her. She was at the point where she started to figure out a way to leave this abusive relationship.

She returned to finishing dinner.

Two days later, it was two that Friday morning with a full Moon.

Deputy Hughes checked out Sammy Sampson’s shack in the darkness. He found a baseball bat stashed under the crawl space of the shack and knew this was the murder weapon. He rushed back to the squad car and drove back to the office. He knew that Sheriff Damon would be proud of him when the sun rose above the horizon.

Deputy Hughes was correct, and Sheriff Damon was proud of the old deputy. He finally figured there was hope this kid would be a fine lawman one day. So Sheriff Damon called Melvin at the Ford dealership and told him to round up the guys. They had a mission to perform that night.

It was late one on a Saturday night.

A 1939 and 1940 Ford drove down the dirt street of the colored section of Boldger.

The two Fords stopped and parked in the front yard of a dilapidated one-story shack full of bare spots and weeds.

Eight men jumped out of the two Fords. They were all dressed in their white KKK outfits with pointy hoods.

They rushed up to the front door of the Sampson shack.

“Git out here, Sammy!” one of the KKK members yelled out from behind his pointed hood.

A few minutes passed, and Sammy stepped outside on the front porch in a tee shirt and white boxers.

He saw the KKK members standing in his front yard and freaked out. He ran back inside his house.

Four of the KKK members ran into the house after Sammy.

After a few minutes, they dragged Sammy outside of his shack.

While they dragged him through his front yard, Sammy’s wife, Eliza, rushed outside in her nightgown with Joey only in his white boxers. They watched in horror while Sammy was dragged over to one of the cars.

Sammy tried to free himself, but the KKK members were stronger. They threw him into the backseat of one of the cars. They all got inside it and drove off.

Eliza cried as she knew she would never see Sammy alive again. Joey cried as he also knew what was going to happen. And he knew why and peed in his boxers.

Twenty minutes passed, and the two Fords drove into the woods by a creek.

Jimmy and Ricky ran through the woods after the cars. They knew what was going to happen since they had eavesdropped on their father’s phone conversation earlier in the evening. They just had to watch, so they ran as fast as their legs would move.

The two cars stopped by a tree usually used for this event.

All eight KKK members got out, and two of them dragged Sammy behind them.

“I did nothing!” Sammy cried out in fear. “Please! I did nothing,” Sammy cried out again while they dragged him closer to the tree with a noose tied to a thick overhead branch.

Jimmy and Ricky finally got closer and peeked around a pine tree. They saw two KKK members stand Sammy up on a stool while another member placed the noose around Sammy’s neck.

“You’re going to hang for killing Buster Chaney,” one of the KKK members yelled at Sammy, and he sounded like the Sheriff.

“I didn’t kill anybody! I swear!” Sammy cried out, and his eyes welled up.

“We found the baseball bat that you used to kill Buster, and we have a witness,” yelled out one of the KKK members, and his voice sounded familiar to Jimmy and Ricky.

One of the KKK members punched Sammy in the stomach. “Shut up, boy, and face justice like a man.”

“God, help me!” Sammy cried out while looking at the dark sky and full Moon.

“What do we do now, Jimmy? You killed the man. Not Joey’s daddy,” Ricky whispered and felt sorry for Sammy.

“I don’t want to get hung for murder, so this has to be another one of our secrets until we die. We didn’t have a choice. Besides, he’s colored, and nobody will care. If I weren’t there, that guy would have killed you,” said Jimmy, and he felt powerful with getting an innocent man hung.

Ricky nodded in agreement with his older brother and remembered how he couldn’t breathe with Buster’s tight grip around his throat.

Jimmy and Ricky locked pinkies to seal their secrecy.

They watched while one of the KKK members kicked the stand away.

Sammy’s body dropped. The young boys heard his neck snap. It would be a sound they would never forget for the rest of their lives.

Jimmy watched with extreme interest while Sammy’s dead body swayed like the pendulum of a clock.

The two boys watched while all eight KKK members removed their pointy hoods. Their father was with them, and he was the one that kicked away the stand.

Also among the Klansman was Roscoe Purcell. He was Melvin’s old high school buddy, and they played football together. Roscoe was a First Lieutenant in the Army Reserves and served his duty as a Military Policeman at Fort Benning.

Roscoe also worked at the Tom’s Snacks Company in Columbus, Georgia. He often visited Boldger so Melvin could give him a great deal on a new Ford.

Roscoe was in town to buy a new 1948 Ford when Melvin told him about the upcoming lynching.

Since Roscoe had not been involved with the KKK since the beginning of World War Two, he decided to participate in tonight’s event for old time’s sake.

“The beers are on me,” Melvin told his buddies.

Jimmy and Ricky ran away through the woods while the KKK members walked over and got inside the two Fords.

The eight KKK members drove their cars off on a dusty trail down the road.

Jimmy and Ricky ran all the way home undetected. Tonight would be another event that would help Jimmy’s craving to kill to flourish.

Two days had passed, and Eliza Sampson packed two suitcases. A friend of Eliza’s drove her and Joey to the bus station in Watson’s nearby town. They were moving to Chicago to be with her sister, as she felt that would be safer for Joey. She didn’t want the risk of Sheriff Damon coming after Joey in the middle of the night.

Joey is lucky that his momma moved him out of Boldger. Jimmy is seeking midnight revenge on Joey for telling Sheriff Damon what he saw in the woods that day.

A month had passed, and Jimmy bought his first issue of True Detective magazine at Paul’s Drug Store in town. He loved that magazine as true detective stories started to fascinate him. But the sick part was that some of those murder stories gave young Jimmy an erection. He would then jerk off while reading those stories. This could have been the start of a sick future for young Jimmy.

Back to reality.

Sam found the first chapter of Allan’s book interesting and was glad he bought it. He continued to read the second chapter.