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Time capsules are supposed to be harmless—shoeboxes of nostalgia, buried under a schoolyard tree to be opened decades later for laughs and memories.
But in the quiet town of Dunhaven, a 30-year-old time capsule held more than yearbooks and trinkets. At the bottom was a disposable camera. One roll of film. Never developed.
And when the pictures finally came to light, they didn’t capture prom night or football games.
They captured a crime.
This is The Last Roll.
By Massai EdwardsTime capsules are supposed to be harmless—shoeboxes of nostalgia, buried under a schoolyard tree to be opened decades later for laughs and memories.
But in the quiet town of Dunhaven, a 30-year-old time capsule held more than yearbooks and trinkets. At the bottom was a disposable camera. One roll of film. Never developed.
And when the pictures finally came to light, they didn’t capture prom night or football games.
They captured a crime.
This is The Last Roll.