Many years ago when I was an actor I saw an advertisement for actors to write and act in a short film for The London College of Communication which was at The Elephant and Castle in London.
As usual with student films I never received a copy of the finished film which was a shame as I thought it might be quite good as a finished production.
Here is the script for said film which I thought would be appropriate for the Just Jot It January word prompt of undiscovered. Shame I couldn't attach the finished film!
My name's Joe Wells and I'm here to confess, I'm here to confess to a murder.
Thirty years ago I killed a man, I killed the man who killed my daughter Susan.
When she was born she was the most beautiful baby in the world, I loved her to death and she grew into the most wonderful child.
Then when she was fifteen she started going off the rails, obviously it was drugs but we were so naive we thought she was just a stroppy teenager.
It's amazing how quickly she went downhill, form model student to heroine addict in a year and a half.
Her mother and I both tried to get her clean but it was too late, by that time she was gone from us both mentally and physically.
She moved into a squat with her boyfriend who was also her dealer and that was the last we ever saw of her.
The police called on 14th November to say she'd died of an overdose and we buried her on 4th December, later there was an inquest with the inevitable outcome, they were never going to call it murder were they.
My wife took it better than me, but I just couldn't let it go, I stalked that little bastard Chris for months, then one night I got my chance.
It was dark he was alone, no CCTV everywhere in those days, I grabbed a spade from my van and smashed his head in, I put him in a body bag shoved him in the van and drove to work.
The minute I got there I put him in the incinerator, I changed into my work clothes and put the ones I had been wearing into the incinerator too.
When it was over I took the ashes and the spade I'd used and put them in the bottom of a grave we'd dug for a funeral the next day, I covered them with soil and came home.
I felt no guilt whatsoever, I never have.