Sandlot

Right. I've said this before, but I can repeat myself as much as I want, deal with it. Actually, I've never said this before. This is a secret. No one knows this except God, a guy named Walter and myself. I met Walter when I was 17 one night at a gas station. He was buying beer and I was purchasing some grape Gatorade. We were going to the same party so it was weird as it looked like I was following him. I exited my car and he asked why I was following him. I told him that it was just a coincidence that we were going to the same party. It was unseasonably warm so I looked like an idiot with my jacket on. But he must have watched the weather channel or something because he was dressed for the weather.
We entered the house together and began the things people do at parties. We both left at the same time and I followed him back to the gas station where I bought some tea and he bought rolling papers. I got back into my car and he asked if I wanted to get high. I said no and put my car in reverse. He then wished me a good night. That was fucking it. I put the car in park, exited my car and beat him to death. Right there in front of the gas station. I killed him. I beat him till his skull was mush. I placed him in his car and lit the thing on fire.
He must have been an important man, because the cops came around asking a bunch of nosey questions. So I was at the police station and the police were asking me questions and I told them all about how I have no idea what happened to that guy. They were talking blah blah about DNA and bloodstains and surveillance footage. It was legal jargon that I didn't understand.
Well, I went to trial and was found guilty. The judge sentenced me to life in prison. As I was being escorted out of the courtroom, the stenographer, whom liked me, as I would speak slowly so she wouldn't have to type so fast, wished me luck in prison. Well that was fucking it. I killed her, the judge, my lawyer, the prosecutor, the jury and the bailiff. I used the stenographer as a weapon, well, just her left leg, to beat the majority of people to their deaths. I burned down the courtroom because I had to. I guess everyone thought I died in the fire because no one ever came around trying to find out business. I changed my name, to what it is now, which may or may not be Derek Jeter.