He stared into the pair of grey-blue eyes across from him. The shackles around the boy's wrists didn't seem to degrade him as much as they should have. In fact, they seemed to make him even more defiant and proud-looking.

Ben Stanley took out a handmade cigarette and rolled it between his fingers, before putting it to his lips. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

The boy shook his head. "I used to when I was out there. Have at it."

Ben nodded in gratitude and lit the cigarette, letting the steady stream of smoke billow out of his lips. He surveyed the boy again. He didn't look to be much older than 19 years old, maybe 20. Too young to be in jail; too young to have committed the crime that he had two years before. And lucky ol' Ben was going to be the first to tell his story.

He took out a notepad and pencil and sat up. "Are you ready?" The boy stretched out his back. "I've been ready for about two years now. How much paper have you got?" Ben raised a brow. "Plenty. About 4 notepads worth."

The boy smirked at him. "Good, because you'll probably need all of it for what I'm about to tell you. I'm ready if you are."

"Alright…let's start out with your name."

"Conlon. Spot Conlon." Ben looked up curiously. "And no Spot's not my real name, but I don't want to tell you that yet. Writer's always have big mouths, so why would I spill the beans to you right now if I think you can't be trusted?"

Ben shrugged and wrote it down. "Fair enough I guess." He made a mental note not to frustrate the boy in order to get the full story. "How old are you and where are you from?"

Spot rubbed his wrists, wishing that they'd get the stupid metal bonds off of him. Wasn't he a model prisoner? Well, okay, so he got into scuffles with the other men occasionally when they took them off…but was that any reason to judge his next move? "I'm 22. I was born in Shannon, Ireland and came over on a ship in 1889. Next?" Ben glanced up while he wrote. 22? Geez, this boy was small…or should he say man?

He traced over his lettering. Somehow he felt that he was wasting his time with this story, but when he saw that boy's eyes for the first time one year ago, he knew he had something. Perhaps his next best-seller. "What are you in here for?"

"Don't you know that already?"

"Humor me."

Spot took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at Ben intensely. "I killed my best friend two years ago."

"Why did you do that? Did he anger you?"

"No."

"Did he betray you somehow?"

"Nah, Jacky-boy wasn't like that."

Ben sighed. "Then I fail to understand why you killed him."

Spot stared down at his hands and smirked to himself. Perhaps it was more of a grim smile. Ben hated the sight of it. It meant that this "Spot" was proud of what he had done.

"Did you know that Jack saved a little girl once?"

Ben snapped back to attention. "What?"

"I asked-.."

"I heard that…but why?"

"Well…" Spot drawled, tracing the tabletop, "If you want some answers…go find Amelia Hart. She'll give you a good insight."

Ben's ears started ringing. An eyewitness? His mind was screaming one thing: FIELD TRIP.

She was a beauty, alright. Dark blonde locks waved around her shoulders as she tended to a small garden outside her window. Her deep blue eyes scanned the area nervously.

So this was Amelia Hart, huh?

"Miss Hart?" Her head snapped up. Ben stood in front of her with a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah…who're you?" Amelia asked suspiciously.

"My name's Ben Stanley, ma'am, and I'm a writer. I'm currently writing about a murderer. You knew one of his victims – Jack Kelly? - I was wondering if I could have a few words with you about him."

Amelia's mouth curled slightly when she realized what was going on. "The man that died a couple of years ago? Yes, I knew him." She hesitated briefly before allowing him to come inside. He nodded his head in gratitude as he stepped inside and looked around. An average home, he thought.

"Would you like something?"

"No, thank you." Ben stated, realizing that she didn't offer it with politeness, but with an air of obligation. "I'd like to get straight to it if that's okay with you."

"The sooner the better." She said, sitting down and offering him a chair.

Ben sat down and took out his notepad. "How did you know Jack Kelly?"

"He saved my life when I was ten years old."

"That was all?"

"What else would there be? He was six years my senior."

Ben shook his head. "I suppose not. I was just asking for facts. Would you tell me what happened then?"

Amelia sighed softly. "I was ten years old, and my step-father wasn't exactly the best role model. In fact…he often offered me up to be a prostitute."

"At 10!"

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Yes, sorry."

"Well…I couldn't stand my step-father's attitude anymore…so I simply ran away." She rubbed her temples, then placed her hands neatly in her lap. "He caught up with me…and didn't take too lightly to me running off on him. You see, I'd also placed a sleeping pill in his water that night. So, he decided to take me into the alley to teach me a lesson. He began beating me viciously…using anything he could. His fists, his feet, the lid of the trash can…anything. I tried to scream…but nothing happened. Just when I thought I was going to die…I saw him. He was like an angel sent just for me." She smiled to herself. "He almost killed my step-father saving me. Anyway…He helped me up and brushed me off. Jack didn't say a word to me…I didn't say a word to him. He simply took me to my home after I'd told him where to go…and I've never seen him again."

Ben was shocked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. I'm sad that I can't really know him as a person…but I can say he was a wonderful human being who thought little of himself. Perhaps saving me was proving something…" She shrugged. "Nobody can see into his mind. Not then, not now." Amelia said easily, staring at her hands.

"So why do you think his best friend killed him? Jealousy?"

She looked up inquiringly. "His best friend didn't kill him."

"He admitted to the crime. The gun was there, as was the body. All the proof points to his friend."

Amelia leaned closer to him as if to give him a secret. "Let me give you some advice…Nothing is what it seems."