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I am back, and I have some disturbing news. The picture I drew this morning now looks much like myself. I think Charles changed the picture. I must change the gravestone somehow.
Its about half past eleven, and Ive done it.
With some charcoal from the hearth, I wrote, "Charles Atkinson." I also changed the birthdate to September fourteenth, though I wasnt really sure when his birthday was.
After that I came back up here. I have decided to get rid of Charles.
I have survived the night. Let me tell you what happened. I broke off the wooden table leg and hit Charles over the head. When I went to retrieve my journal, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Maria at the steps. I grabbed my journal, ran down the stairs, and came here. I am going to stay here for a while. I think Maria saw me kill Charles.
Gilchrist Road, Clapham
I havent written in about a year. I am now in jail. Today I went to court. With Maria as a witness and the polices forensic evidence, there is enough evidence to prove that I killed Charles.
The judge announed, "James Clarence Withencroft will be sentenced tomorrow."
I yelled and screamed at the judge after he made his decision.