I was Born in Louisiana

<p><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>My name is John Reginald Powell.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>A black man walks into the police department with his eyes wide open. There is something sinister about him. He is apparently dressed in pure madness.</span><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1); background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0)> </span><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>But he is confused he doesn't remember. His mind rushes to his rescue unexpectedly bringing back the sweet memories of childhood the reminiscences of a happy period that he had for an unspecified reason set aside in a remote corner of his memory.</span><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1); background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0)> </span><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>He confesses to having killed but does not seem repentant. He appears rather disjointed stunned upset.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>Meanwhile he retraces his life browses through his memories searches for the source of that discomfort.</span><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1); background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0)> </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>The doubt that assails is whether we are faced with a meek man who hides a dark side or a dark man who retains a meek side.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(32 33 36 1)>There will be no need to investigate. No long confession will be needed for John Reginald Powell. The unexpected solution to the case will erupt with the violence of a volcano and will throw the entire police department into total confusion.</span></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>