I had gone to the black section of Portsmouth and met up with Cameron (a black fellow, 18-19 years old), one of my former schoolmates from high school. We boarded a car and drove to West Portsmouth. Cameron and I had been hanging around together lately, and as we rode along, Cameron talked about how well we got along and how it seemed inevitable that he and I would become good friends. He said something about our becoming friends even though he had come from a lower class. I agreed with what he said, but I wished he were more cultured. I was thinking of inviting him to go on a trip to France and traveling around France with me. I also thought of asking him if he knew what had happened to Chuck Samuels (another former black high school schoolmate) and Samuels' brother, Bennie Samuels, but I never brought them up.

When we finally stopped at an old dilapidated building in West Portsmouth, we stepped out of the car, entered the building and climbed a circular path up to the sixth or seventh floor, where a stream of water blocked our path. We managed to cross through the water and continued on our way. We climbed a couple more floors until we encountered another large stream of swiftly moving muddy water. When I told Cameron I didn't think we would be able to continue, he suddenly jumped into the muddy water. The swift current pulled him under, but four times I saw him bob to the surface. I thought I might be able to jump in and pull him out. Instead I simply stood and watched until there was no more movement and I knew he had drowned.

I turned and walked back down the path, trying to decide what I should do next. I began recalling Cameron and I had smoked some marijuana together earlier. If anyone asked me about that, I would deny it and say I hadn't smoked any. I knew Cameron's blood could be checked and perhaps traces of the marijuana could be found, but I didn't think the marijuana could be traced to me. Perhaps I could simply leave, and when the body was found, I could deny I knew anything about it. But I was afraid lying could become complicated. I decided I was going to have to contact the police and report the drowning.

I walked all the way to the bottom of the building and stepped back outside. Now I noticed an open gas station next door to the building and I walked inside, where I saw some men in green suits. One man stepped up to the counter and began talking. When I tried to break into his speech, he became angry. He said this was a convenience store, and he pulled out a list of products sold in the store. Apparently the man made money by reading the list and convincing people to buy the products. So he began reading the list.

I became angry and I tried to tell him I wanted to use his phone to call the sheriff, but the fellow paid no attention to me. A large adding machine was sitting on the counter. I knocked the adding machine onto the floor and blurted, "There's been a drowning next door."

Two other fellows stepped up and they finally realized what I was trying to say. One picked up the phone and called the sheriff. Meanwhile I picked up the adding machine and set it back on the counter.