This is a picture of Mister Barry hiring me to kill his wife. I'm the one on the left. Yes, the one wearing the old KISS tee shirt. I think it's from the cover of 'Destroyer'. I'm laughing like that because I can't believe a man would pay good money to have an itty-bitty woman snuffed.

   This is a picture of my gun. It's a .38 special. Unregistered. Untraceable. I purchased it with some of the money Mister Barry paid me to kill his wife. I paid cash. I paid two hundred dollars.

   This is a picture of the two hundred dollars I used to pay for the gun. If you look closely you can see that they are used, non-sequential bills. Small denominations. That's what you're supposed to ask for. Used, non-sequential bills in small denominations.

   This is a picture of Harry Ferris. Harry Ferris and I go way back. We played football together. We were on the same team from Peewees straight through high school. We were both two-way players. I played defensive back. Harry played on both sides of the line. Our senior year we lost the state championship on a blown call. Harry Ferris is the man who sold me the gun. That's what Harry did after he tore up his knee and dropped out of VA Tech. He sold stuff. I knew Harry would give his old teammate a good deal. He didn't He charged me full price, the same as any slug driving up to him in a car with out of state plates.

   This is a picture of Harry Ferris' new navy blue Ford Ranger. It's his pride and joy. You should hear him brag about it.

   This is a picture of Harry Ferris' brand new navy blue Ford Ranger after some unknown hooligan worked it over with a lead pipe.

   This is a picture of my lead pipe. If you look closely you can still see the flecks of navy blue paint sticking to it.

   This is a picture of my sister Ellen taken at a ballgame about a year ago. I don't know who the person dressed as a nun is. She might be a real nun.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry handing me a picture of Missus Barry. It's a snapshot of a rather attractive middle-aged woman. It was taken at the beach, and she's wearing a one-piece black swimsuit that clings to her body. In the picture it is impossible to see a trace of fat. Looking at it you can understand what a man like Mister Barry fell for her.

   This is a picture of me staring intently at the picture of Missus Barry. Not the furrowed brow. I'm studying it carefully, memorizing every last detail. It's my way of making sure I'm going to recognize her under any circumstances. Recognition is the key in the murder-for-hire game. Killing the wrong person is the height of unprofessionalism.

   This is a picture of the picture of Missus Barry.

   This is a picture of me burning the picture of Missus Barry. That way there was no physical evidence linking me to the crime if something went wrong.

   This is a picture of the ashes left behind after I burned the picture of Missus Barry.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry leaving the house.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry getting into her black BMW.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry pulling away from the curb.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry shopping for groceries at the local Foodtown. The cart is piled high. She appears to be one of those once a week shoppers. My Mom was like that. Me? I shop every day. I buy just what I need. Missus Barry seems to be a careful shopper. She has a stack of coupons stuffed in her purse. Occasionally she consults them.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry carefully examining a can of Campbell's Cream Of Mushroom Soup. You can see she's checking it for dents. Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup is on sale. There's a sign in the middle of the shelf.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry catching me taking her picture.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry charging me. Note the expression on her face.

   This is a picture of the supermarket exit. It is a bit out of focus. I admit it's not my best work.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry talking to the store manager. I took it through the store window from the parking lot. It is an animated conversation. They are both smiling. I think she's flirting with him or something.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry and the store manager sharing a laugh at my expense.

   This is a picture of the store manager getting into his car after his shift is over.

   This is a picture of the store manager entering his rented house. The job must not pay much.

   This is a picture of the store manager leaving for work in the morning. He seems to live alone.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry kissing an unidentified girl. The girl appears too young to be his daughter, but I make no assumptions. I just don't think a man like Mister Barry would let his daughter leave the house if she were dressed like that.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry slipping the girl some money.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry entering a run-down hotel with the girl.

   This is a picture of some prostitutes hanging around outside the run-down hotel.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry leaving the run-down hotel. He has a huge smile on his face. It's the only picture I have of him smiling, I think.

   This is a picture of the same girl kissing an older man who is not Mister Barry. It was taken on the same day.

   This is a picture of the man who is not Mister Barry giving some money to the girl who is too young to be Mister Barry's daughter.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry pulling his black BMW into his reserved parking space at work. It looks just like the car his wife drives. But trust me. It isn't.

   This is a picture of the fish I caught last time I went fishing. I believe it is some kind of sunfish. Or a 'sunny', as we used to call them when we were kids. I was using worms for bait. The fish was too small to keep, so I released it back into the pond. It floated on its belly for a while before it sank from sight.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry handing me a fat white envelope.

   This is a picture of the contents of that envelope spread out over my bed. Please ignore the sheets. They were a gift from my parents. They still treat me like a child.

   This is a picture of a fifty-dollar bill. Note the serial number. I have forty-nine more pictures just like this one in a box somewhere. I think it's under my bed.

   This is a picture of the Barry residence, taken on a day when Mister Barry is out of state on a business trip.

   This is a picture of a bucket of worms. You can't see the worms, but they're there. They are hidden under the dirt. They are fat and wriggly.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry leaving the house. She is wearing a red and white sweat suit. She's put on a bit of weight since the photograph Mister Barry was taken, but it is unmistakably her.

   This is a picture of me loading the gun.

   This is a picture of the loaded gun.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry talking to her next-door neighbor. The next-door neighbor is an elderly woman who seems to be devoted to her garden. There are beautiful flowers everywhere. It's nice to have a hobby.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry returning to the safety of her house. She is unshot, as you can plainly see.

   This is a picture of the fast food restaurant where I had lunch. This isn't my favorite chain, but it was the first one I passed. They *do* give away the best toys, though.

    This is a picture of my lunch: a Big Mac, a large order of french fries smothered in ketchup, and a large chocolate milkshake.

   This is a picture of the girl behind the counter who took my order. See how pretty she is! You can just tell she'll have a killer smile just as soon as her braces come off.

   This is a picture of the trashcan by the exit of the fast food restaurant.

   This is a picture of the girl behind the counter piling into a car with some of her coworkers.

   This is a picture of the girl behind the counter getting dropped off at her house.

   This is a picture of the girl behind the counter unlocking her front door.

   This is a picture of the light shining in the bedroom window of the girl behind the counter. The shade is down but you can just imagine her moving around up there.

   This is a picture of the key to his house that Mister Barry gave me. It is a copy he made in another town during one of his business trips.

   This is a picture of the back door of the Barry residence.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry sleeping.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry sleeping. It's taken from a different angle.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry waking up.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry trying to scream.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry's terrified face. The fingers pressed over her lips are mine. Notice the thick gloves. I can't even feel her biting down.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry making me an offer with the only thing she has left.

   This is a picture of what Missus Barry has to offer.

   This is a picture of me showing Missus Barry what I think of her offer.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry after the first shot.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry after the second shot.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry after the third shot.

   This is a picture of Missus Barry after the fourth shot.

   This is a picture of my dog Champ. He's a mutt. Part Shepherd and part something we could never quite figure out.

   This is a picture of me locking the back door to the Barry house after I'm finished.

   This is a picture of me smashing one of the Barry's back windows so it looks like somebody broke in. Seeing it will make the police suspect a common thief or a crackhead.

   This is a picture of the store manager's car, parking in front of his rented house.

   This is a picture of me carefully picking the lock on the trunk of the store manager's car.

   This is a picture of the public telephone I used to call in my anonymous tip.

   This is a picture of the police arriving in full force at the Barry house. Don't you just love the flashing lights?

   This is a picture of the police standing around outside the Barry house. They look grim.

   This is a picture of the police arriving at the store manager's rented house.

   This time they're discrete. They silently surround the place.

   This is a picture of the police silently surrounding the place.

   This is a picture of the police showing the store manager the warrant. I know I'm imagining it, but the ink almost looks wet, doesn't it?

   This is a picture of the store manager handing over his car keys. Note the expression on his face. He looks more puzzled that worried. What does he have to be worried about, after all?

   This is a picture of the police detective opening the car trunk.

   This is a picture of the police detective searching the interior of the car trunk.

   This is a picture of the police detective triumphantly finding something hidden behind the spare tire in the trunk.

   This is a picture of the police detective emerging with this object.

   This is a picture of the police detective carefully removing what appears to be a bloodstained cloth from around the object.

   This is a picture of the police detective showing the store manager the item pulled from the store manager's car trunk.

   This is a picture of the store manager suddenly looking worried.

   This is a picture of the police detective reading the store manager his rights. The police detective is literally reading them from a little card.

   This is a picture of the police detective slapping handcuffs on the murder suspect.

   This is a picture of the murder suspect being led away.

   This is a picture of the exterior of the police station. It looks calm, but you can just imagine the activity taking place inside.

   This is a picture of the two plain-clothed detectives waiting for Mister Barry at the airport.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry's plane landing.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry at the airport returning from his trip.

   This is a picture of the two plain-clothed detectives intercepting Mister Barry.

   This is a picture of several people gathered around the baggage carousel waiting for their luggage.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry getting the terrible news.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry breaking down.

   This is a picture of the two plain-clothed detectives catching Mister Barry before he can fall to the floor.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry sitting down at the airport drinking coffee from a paper cup. How lost he looks. How sad.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry entering the courtroom.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry exiting the courtroom.

   This is a picture of the District Attorney with his hands raised in victory, answering questions about the trial.

   This is a picture of the girl behind the counter coming out of the movie theater with three of her girlfriends. They all look so young and fresh, don't they?

   This is a picture of two members of the jury.

   This is a picture of the newspaper with the story about the store manager's conviction on the first page.

   This is a picture of the picture of the store manager taken from the front page. You can see his real name there.

   This is a picture of the judge who sent the store manager to the death chamber.

   This is a picture of the lawyer who is fighting the judge's decision. They say it could take years before anything happens.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry returning to work.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry brushing past me when I try to talk to him about the rest of my money.

   This is a picture of a curious squirrel with its head stuck in the entrance to a birdhouse.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry warning the security guard stationed at the gate of his office complex about me.

   This is a picture of the phone I used to call Mister Barry to ask him about the rest of my money.

   This is a picture of the hole I punched in the wall when I threw the phone against it as hard as I could in complete and utter frustration.

   This is a picture of the man who came to restore my telephone service. He was a very friendly guy, and not in the least judgmental. He assured me that he had heard every story possible.

   This is a picture of the back seat of Mister Barry's car.

   This is where I made him drive me.

   This is a picture of Mister Barry after.

   This is a picture of my lead pipe. Note the flecks of red and the almost invisible fibers of hair clinging to it.

   This is a picture at the funeral home.

   This is a picture of the closed casket.

   This is a picture of the cemetery.

   This is a picture of the two named carved in the tombstone. RIP, Mister and Missus Barry.

   This is a picture of my new girlfriend working behind the counter. Well, she's not *really* my girlfriend. Not yet, anyway. But she will be...