My misdeeds were many.

First there was arson. I threw a match into a small garage on the junction of Northumberland Street and Ferry Road. While I watched the billows of grey smoke envelop the neighbourhood, I thought it would be amusing if I were the one to call the fire brigade.

Next were the murders. My cunning plan had been to bury the corpses in a flower bed at my parents’ house. The bodies would never be found because neither my mother nor father ever did any gardening.