I have a confession to make. In December 1992, I lied in court. Yes, I was fully aware that I was under oath, standing in front of an esteemed jury. How could I? You will ask me, and that’s why I’m writing to you today. On your deathbed, my confession would seem trite, but you need closure, and I’m doing it for you. To give you some answers to the questions you never asked.
You didn’t recognise me that day when I stepped into the witness box. But I knew you for who you were. A murderer! A murderer of dreams, hope, love, and a happy home. An innocent woman who trusted you, Raim!
Are you shocked that I know your alias? Didn’t I already give you a hint that you didn’t recognise me? You were so blinded by greed that my seven-year-old eyes couldn’t forget that wicked gleam in your eyes. It haunted me for years to come. It still does.
You skirted around your ethics conveniently then, but not anymore, Raim!
You didn’t commit this crime, but I was so convincing in my stand that day that I think even the heavens were on my side.
Naomi! Remember her, you old fox? Oh yes, you do. Your life flashed right in front of your eyes. Your half-sister. And I’m your nemesis.
I wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity of the Violet Creek Camping grounds on the day of the alleged crime, but what’s stopping me from saying that I was and that I saw you push the car into the swamp with a poor woman unconscious inside?
I fully knew you were on the shady side, and I came forward to give the sketch artist your profile when they asked witnesses to come forward. I didn’t have to try hard since you were always on the radar of suspicion for minor felonies.
And I never gave them a chance to suspect me; even if they were watching for subtle giveaways in body language, I was all the time replaying in my mind the atrocities you had committed in another time frame.
Raim, I was going to make you pay for all the sins you committed right here on earth.
I’ve avenged Naomi. She found her peace the moment you were convicted of a life sentence.
You rot in prison with hard-core criminals every miserable day of your life. You can scream yourself hoarse about your innocence, but why and how could a seven-year-old give a precise description of an alleged criminal? That was my trump card, Raim. I was convincing.
Still wondering who I am? I’m that girl who you mocked by calling Two-Pence when I came to the defence of my grandma Naomi when you divested her of home and hearth, ultimately her failing health, which withered her to a point of desperation.
Did you, for one moment, regret your actions? That her untimely death was caused by you? That was no less than murder!
In the Purple Creek Camping grounds case, it makes no difference to me if the real culprit goes scot-free. Not at all. Someday he might get his just dues when this cold case is reopened, but it’s too late for you. You will find your freedom in the seven halls of hell.
As for me, I’ll take each day as it comes. It happened so long ago, and I’m seriously not expected to remember anything now, do I?
Sending you purple tulips. No, don’t mistake it for reverence. Those were Grandma Naomi’s favourite flowers. Even with your last breath, I’ll make certain it haunts you into the afterlife!
—Grandma Naomi’s favourite grandchild,
Tiffany ( Tuppence). It’s NOT Two-Pence.
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