Tired from the long day, I stumbled into my house. I bumped into a table and tripped over a laundry basket filled with unwashed clothes. This resulted in my video camera ending up under a pile of dirty clothes. Staggering tiredly to the couch, I fall into a deep, sound sleep. 

Tring Tring! Tring Tring!

My phone kept ringing continuously. Groggily, I tried to pick up the phone. However, it slipped to the floor and in the process turned the speaker on. "Tums, get up and take the jester clothes out of your closet. Get dressed in them. Wear the jester mask and hat. Go to the chief's house and pour sand into the fuel tank of his car. Fall asleep in front of the chief's house," said a low, gravelly voice.

Humming in response, I mechanically get up from the couch. I knew something was wrong at the back of my mind. However, I am helpless to do anything but follow the instructions. I open the cupboard and pull out an old trunk that I didn't know I had. Pulling out the jester's clothes, I get dressed. I then don on the mask and hat quickly as though I've done it a million times.

Calmly, I walk to the chief's house. There was no sand in sight. I make my way to a nearby children's park and scooped a handful of sand. Back at the chief's house, I climb over the gate. With a pen knife, I pry the fuel tank door open. I pour the sand into the tank. I then walk to the chief's door and fall asleep.

Aiiee!

I wake up with a crick in my neck from sleeping in a wrong posture, to a dog licking my mask and to a scream ringing in my ear. Wait a second. Mask? Scream? I sit up with a jerk only to find a gun in my face. Gingerly, I look up to see the holder of the gun. It's the chief. 

"Chief," I begin to say. 

"Down asshole. Flat on the ground and hands wide apart," shouted the Chief. 

"No Chief, you don't get it," I try to reason with the chief. 

"Now, or I'll blow your face," growled the Chief. 

Realizing that the situation would only get worse if I continued to resist, I lay on the ground. 

"Now, get up slowly and put your hands behind your head," ordered the Chief. The Chief twisted my hands and cuffed me.

He then pulled off my mask. "Tums, you?," said the Chief shocked. 

"Chief, please. I know how this looks but, something is wrong. Please Chief. Help me. Help me Chief," I beg.

The Chief looks on silently with a perplexed expression as the officers come and take me to the precinct.

I'm left in the interrogation room to stew in silence. I'm familiar with the tactic. However, it doesn't ease my nerves. I walk around the room desperately. After remembering the voice and how I blindly followed the instructions, I'm not sure what to make of everything that has been happening. Yet, I'm sure of my innocence. I couldn't possibly have done all the things the jester did. The irony! When I was sure I was guilty, everyone believed I was innocent. Now, that I am sure I am innocent, everyone believes I am guilty.

The Chief and Blade entered the room. "Peter, do you remember what happened?," asked Blade gently. 

Taken aback with the use of my formal name and his gentle tone, I respond in a perplexed tone, "I poured sand into the Chief's car".

"What other things did you do as the jester?," asks Blade. 

"I don't know. But, I didn't..," I respond, desperate to tell my side of the story. However, I'm cut off. 

"We know. You've been having blackouts and you have been seeking psychiatric help. I'm sorry we didn't believe you when you came to us. The blood found at the last scene in the pharmaceutical matched yours. We know it's you," said the Chief apologetically.

I try to tell the Chief and Blade about the voice. "You don't understand. It was not me. Well, it was me but, I was ordered to do so. I know it sounds crazy but check my phone. Please," I beg. 

Blade's eyes flicker. I begin to hope that he would look into my rantings. However, his next words crash my hopes. 

"Yes, I'm sure there was a voice," responds Blake with false kindness. I knew then that I would not receive any help from my partner.

"I want a lawyer," I demand in a wooden voice. I can now only hope to convince my lawyer. Failing which I could be thrown in jail or a mental asylum.