One night a man shot another man, but there was a witness watching in a tree.

The witness went and told a policeman, who called in forensics to check for DNA
and fingerprints. They arrested the suspect and interrogated him in the local
police station. He was charged and the case went to trial, where the jury found
him guilty. The judge sentenced him to life in prison, but one night he dug a hole
with a shovel and escaped.

It was a chilly autumn evening. The wind whistled through the trees just enough
to mask the sound of the local wildlife settling itself down in to nests and holes
for the night. The only interruption to the constant breeze was the soft, slow step
of boot on path, rhythmically approaching the centre of the park. Clop, clop,
clopand stop. So conspicuous was the sudden absence of the intrusive sound,
that even the wind noticed and promptly stopped blowing. Silence permeated,
enveloping the darkness and the spindly silhouettes all around. A sudden bang!
Birds all around, circling up and away, the wind howling, the trees swaying
another! Bang bang! The unmistakable sound of gunfire gave way to its smell, a
lingering, smoky smell, and silence once again, but a crisp, eerie, unsettled
silence. The very air itself playing silent detective to a shady crime, a murder
most foul. The footsteps again! This time quick, troubled, steps, trailing off in to
the distance with the added weight of blood, guilt and knowledge.
As the footsteps slowly ceased through distance, the only sound that remained
was the sound of rustling in a nearby hedge, as John emerged, ashen-faced from
his hiding place, witness to an event that would change his life forever.