1/14/06 - 5 days to extinction
In case someone ever finds this. I want you to know that I am not really dead. Jason Carter, the notorious serial killer and slaughterer of kidnapped children, may have died on that table, but it was not me.
1/15/06 - 4 days to extinction
I cannot stop writing in this thing. To whomever may read this one day. I hope you take it to the public eye. If I have to give back the money, I will. I found something better.
1/16/06 - 3 days to extinction
Hollywood paid me to be here. I'm breaking my contract just by writing this. In 3 days you will see me on a table in front of millions. I will be the first ever to receive a lethal injection on live nationally syndicated network television. The entire US wants to see me die for the heinous crimes I have committed. Hollywood is picking up the check for all of your entertainment.
1/17/06 - 2 days to extinction
If I'm going to confess, I might as well do it entirely. The biggest problem with everything that Hollywood paid for concerning my death is that it is exactly what it is. It's all Hollywood. It's all lights and shows. I am not Jason Carter. I am just an actor. I would tell you my real name, but I have changed it, and I don't want anyone to find me after the world sees me die. I never committed any crime, and I am not really going to die. The producers fabricated it all. Well, ok, not the crimes, but let's just say there's an innumerable amount of people out there who are happy to be off the hook for things that the producers of this fiasco have paid to have pinned on the character of Jason Carter. After the world sees me "die" or rather receive a knockout drug that slows my heart below that of the sensitivity of the heart monitor I will be hooked up to, I will be hauled into a back room, and I will wake up next to a big bag of cash, 24 million to be exact. A small amount of change compared to what the producers will make after they make a compilation of all this nonsense and sell the rights. After that, it's my job to disappear, and never tell anyone that it was all fake. You can't blame me for agreeing to deceive the world for that kind of money.
1/18/07 - 23 hours to extinction
The extinction of Jason Carter. While doing my interviews on death row, I received many letters. One of them really connected with me. She and I fell in love over the course of our writing to each other, and had many late night phone conversations within my legal time limits. I could never confess to her that this was all a scam. They monitor my mail and my phone calls. However, the person she fell in love with is me all the same, even if I'm not a criminal and I am not Jason Carter. I hope to find her after I leave, and I hope that she understands.
1/19/07 - 2 hours to extinction
This is my final note. Wherever my Mary is, I hope to track her down. I'll have the money to do it. I just hope she accepts me. I hope you all prosper in what you do, and I hope I am never found but by one person. IF I never find you, Mary, I hope somewhere out there, you know that I love you.
--
With that, I finally put the book down and stashed it in a hollow space under my cot. I didn't get a last meal. That seemed odd. Maybe the guards also happen to know that it's not exactly my last meal? I fully intend to go through with my contract, unless of course someone finds that book one day. Should that be the case, I'll stay hidden nonetheless, because I won't need to come forward. They'll have people authenticate it left and right. All of my letters are on the internet, scanned in jpegs, they'll have no trouble knowing it was me that wrote it.
My cell door slammed open. The warden walked up to me, a pastor in tow. "It's time," he said, very straight forward and very professionally. I stood nervously. That felt so silly. I really felt nervous, as if I was really going to die. I knew that wasn't true... sort of. I mean, at one point, I really thought that they might kill me for real to keep from having to pay me. I got over it though, because if they killed me for real, the medical examination would prove I wasn't who they said I was, and there'd be hell across the board. So, I knew I wasn't going to die, but I guess a part of me was. The past twelve years of my life had known nothing but Jason Carter. For two years I stayed in a lavish apartment in Long Beach, California, with an unlimited spending account. I had to wear disguises as I went around, because they were in the process of framing Jason Carter for everything short of killing Abraham Lincoln. The time was cut short when someone recognized me under the disguise and reported it to police. That moved the schedule slightly ahead, and we went right to the scene where I show no remorse whatsoever in court and get sentenced to death by a jury of my peers.
It was my greatest performance ever. I stayed in character at ALL times. That character was me in its own way, and so I guess, in one way I will die. Regardless, I have a new life waiting. I just hope my true love awaits me on the other side, and I hope she waits for me, and is not waiting for Jason Carter.
Tuning in to the pastor's last rites, I cut him off and said, "Father, don't pray for my soul, pray for my love and future happiness."
The pastor looked flustered as we walked together down the hall to the table. Thumbing through his most favored book, he eventually said, without looking up, "I don't think I know that prayer. What chapter is it?"
That was the last time Jason Carter ever laughed out loud.
