It happened virtually overnight. One day I was Sam Pilkington, a Michigan citizen of 20 years and the next George Lloyd from Arkansas. All because I’d had the misfortune of stumbling onto a murder scene that fateful evening. Not just any old murder scene, one involving a senior member of the Cartel no less!
The FBI couldn’t believe their luck. After years chasing this guy, with my testimony they finally had him. “Don’t worry” they said “We’ll give you a new identity, a fresh start.” Easy for them to say. They’re not the ones constantly looking over their shoulder. Still, if the Cartel wanted revenge, better to make it a little harder for them to find me I guess.
So here I was, a loner in a strange town. No communication with anyone back home other than my cryptic adverts in newspapers. A one way street with a dead end.