Bartholomew Carter became a superstar overnight because of the murder of Salazar Simmons. Whoever sent her those files gave him the best scoop of his life. Every time he walks the street, people would cheer for his name.
He's like a modern-day superhero. Inspiring youths, exposing the evil, and giving women the strength to stand up for themselves. Now, more and more women are speaking up. Female motivational speakers. Rape victims who are finally coming out of the dark.
"You're doing great, Barth. Keep up the good work." The senior editor of their network praised him. That made Carter scoffed.
"You're the one who didn't me reporting the Simmon's case on my program, right? Now that it's making a noise, I'm doing great? Unbelievable."
Bartholomew could no longer stand the presence of his senior. In the industry that he belongs to, leeches are everywhere. People who are always ready to swat you out if you prove useless and they will be so quick to worship you if you're bringing them money, fame, or convenience.
Barth left his senior editor dumbfounded. Her eyes were wide opened due to shock. Probably she could not believe that Carter talked to her that way. No one, not even once in her entire career as a senior editor that someone dared to speak to her that way.
Neil still cannot believe what Barth just heard. He's been working with the reporter for four years, and he's always been patient with the senior editor's attitude. But what Carter said was true. They don't want Carter to involve the network with his scandalous reports about the painter.
"That was totally badass, Barth. I mean, did you see the look in her eyes? That was priceless!"
"Well, don't rejoice too much. I just bitch-talked our boss. We might as well be packing our things."
Carter sat on his recliner and unlocked her computer. Since his first video blog about Simmons, his email has been flooded. Emails from different types of people. Offering him a sponsorship, testimonies of victims, messages of commendation, moral support, and some sad excuses for threats.
But one email stood out from the others. The moment he opened it, Barth knew that it was from the person who sent him the list of Simmons victims. It contained another list of names. Some other victims of Muller and Simmons, but those who are already dead.
Bartholomew read through the files sent to him. They contained death certificates, police reports, suicide notes from the victims, and the letters of the anonymous person helping him. This person cross-referenced the suicide letters to other written articles of the victims.
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Detective Sullivan has been at the station for two days straight. He'll just have his wife bring him clothes and some home-cooked meal. A price he has to pay for being a law enforcer.
A thought popped into Marvin's mind. If the murdered victims were ordinary people, the fuss wouldn't be this big. He bet no one would even bat an eye. Why is the world like that? A question that sprung out of nowhere.
He's a law enforcer, but Marvin always wonders why the world is full of inequality, unfairness, and chaos. Is it because mankind is naturally corrupt? One of the reasons he wanted to be a detective was because he was born in a town when a crime was as natural and as frequent as breathing air.
"Daddy!" A smile quickly formed on Sullivan's lips when he saw his youngest daughter ran towards his desk.
"Sheila, sweetheart."
"Mommy is outside, talking to Uncle Fred. Daddy, why aren't you coming home? Did you and mommy fought?"
"No, baby. Why would you say that?"
"Because my friend's dad left their house when her parents' fought?"
Sullivan laughed with his daughter's explanation. He can't help but be astonished by how fast children are learning things these days. In his time, children only played hide and seek, ran through the woods, and go to church.
Now, children between the ages of seven to nine years old already know things about couples arguing. If his parents are still alive, her daughter would have been scolded. Sheila is an intelligent kid, sometimes too brilliant for her own good.
"Look, Daddy. Mommy's here." Sheila announced.
"Marvin, when are you coming home?" His wife asked.
"I can't say for sure, honey. We still don't have any solid lead about the serial killer. I'm so sorry, sweetheart.
Their family conversation was interrupted when a commotion erupted outside the station. Raised voices of people outside made all the detectives and police officers alert. Marvin's eyes drifted to his wife and daughter. They both looked shocked and afraid.
Detective Sullivan walked to the entrance of the station. That's when he saw the protesters. Hundreds of people rallying outside. They were all screaming for justice for the murdered painter and judge. Some of them even have plaque cards.
"You got to be kidding me," Sullivan muttered.
"Tell me about, brother," Fred responded beside him.
"How are you, officers? Do you have any leads on who murdered Salazar Simmons? You remember him, right? The man who brought so much honor to this town and to the entire country!" One of the protesters said on a megaphone.
"No one is questioning the honor that Salazar Simmons brought us. I can assure you that we are doing our best to find whoever killed him." Fred stepped out of the station with his hands raised.
"Really? So have you made the arrest?" The man responded.
"We can't just arrest anybody. That's why there's an investigation procedure. Real-life is not as easy as you're movie tries to portray. I suggest that you all go home. Come on, guys." Fred tried to give them some clarity.
"We will not leave unless you arrested someone for the murder of those innocent men!" Another protester screamed.
"You sure about that? I can arrest you now. You're trying to instill chaos among the people. And innocent? Even you don't believe that!" Detective Sullivan finally joined Fred outside the station. "With the number of women testifying against them, only a fool would believe a hundred percent that they are innocent."
Marvin shouldn't have said those words. The next thing that happened will shake the very foundation. A long bang echoed and tear through the loud voices of the people.
Harverville is in chaos because of the murder of two famous residences. Many believed that the videos about them were authentic, but their families are working tirelessly to maintain their good image. Especially the family of Judge Rodney Muller.His daughters are willing to pay anyone just to keep Muller's honorable persona intact. They've been paying social media influencers to create documentaries about the so-called proof of their greatness. But the people who believe in the victims are relentless in defending them."Good afternoon, Harverville. We are here to witness a public debate. The topic? Are Salazar Simmons and Judge Rodney Muller evils? Did they really commit those crimes being connected to their names? Let's hear the opinions of ten of our respected citizens."People gathered at the city hall for the first-ever public debate. A non-government organization decided that it's high time that people listen to each other's opinions. They set up chairs fo
Monday morning. Every week, Amara would visit the Mother of Mercy Psychiatric Ward. She's been doing it for sixteen long years. Yet, she never missed even one Monday. It became a routine in her life that she can never break.One of the orderlies brought her to the garden. There she saw an old woman, rocking back and forth. Her blank stare never faltered, and she quietly murmurs. Amara smiled. Her mother has been in that kind of state for sixteen years. She never recovered.-Flashback-The six-year-old Amara woke up with the sound of breaking glasses and her mother's cries. In her young and innocent mind, her mother deserved to be punished. That's what she always says, if you do something terrible, you will be punished.It's almost sunrise, and her mother was supposed to go to the wet market. They own a small meat stall where they get their everyday expenses. Her mother would spend most of the day there and comes home at night.Sometimes, she would
Amara is standing on the balcony of her room, watching the birds, the clouds, and the trees as they dance with the wind. So far, Dylan is contented with the times she's giving him. Those quick pecks on the cheeks, holding hands, and storytelling. Dylan was trying so hard to be a gentleman. But she can see right through him.A knock on the door interrupted Amara's thought. It's Dylan. She's sure of it. It's eight in the morning, so for sure, Dylan already cooked breakfast. Amara continued on acting dumb to make Dylan believe that he got her wrapped in his fingers."Good morning, Amara." Dylan greeted her after she opened the door."Good morning, Dylan." Amara greeted back with the sweetest smile she can muster."Breakfast is ready, my princess.""You're so sweet."Dylan and Amara descended to the dining hall. Amara secretly scoffed when she saw all the food on the table. There's fruits, ham, bacon, fried rice, vegetable salad. He really is pu
Marvin Sullivan stands in front of a newly placed gravestone. His eyes are swollen and blood-red. It's been four days, and he still can't put himself back together.A father is the provider of a family. He is the protector of the family. Being a law enforcer gives more emphasis on being a father more than anything else. A father protects, teaches, and nurtures his children. He teaches them to be strong, responsible, and decent. And he keeps his children away from any harm.Marvin feels like there's a butcher knife stuck in his heart. Since that day, he hasn't stopped crying. His left hand is swollen, and he has broken knucklebones after punching a wall numerous times."Marvin, come on. You've been here since last. Your family needs you, man.""How can I even my family? My wife couldn't even look at me. And she has all the right to be angry. It's my fault that my daughter is dead. If I just listened to my wife and found another job, my daughter would still
The dead body of Dylan Waltz was found inside his room by the house cleaning crew. There was no sign of foul play, no forced entry, and no witness. The estimated time of death was around the early morning of that same day. The cause of death was ruled as a heart attack.Amara was questioned about her time with Dylan. But because she arrived home three days before Dylan died, she was easily crossed out on the list of suspects. Besides, Amara was a known escort girl even by the law enforcers. They know her style and know that she doesn't stay with a customer for more than three days.The police also interviewed Dylan's doctor and found out that Dylan does have a heart condition. Of course, Amara knew this. That is the reason why it was easy for her to find the perfect poison. She returned to the resthouse a few times to ensure that he would not starve or be dehydrated. Amara ensured that police won't find any signs of foul play.The whole city of Haverville is in
Det. Marvin Sullivan went home when the sun goes up. He just meant to change clothes, but his wife was already awake when he arrived. Since Sheila died, they never had the chance to talk. Or maybe it's right to say that she's avoiding him. She couldn't even look at him."Hey, I just went home to take a bath and change clothes. Captain wants progress on the Simmons and Muller's death.""Okay."Marvin bowed his head when his wife didn't even turn around when she answered him. She was cooking their daughter's breakfast when he arrived. Sullivan's heart is breaking into pieces every time he's with his family."Why won't you even look at me?""Nothing. Go ahead and take a bath." His wife said before walking away from him."I didn't want any of this to happen. I love her so much. You don't have any idea how losing her breaks my heart.""You love her? I asked you, no, I begged you to resign. To find a new job. But you took her away from me!
Det. Sullivan hasn't slept in two days. He's been working nonstop to catch the serial killer. But still, he got nothing. All they have are witnesses who didn't see the face of the last person the victim was with before he died and the perfume. It was manufactured by only one company.Everybody kept telling him that he needs to take a rest. But Marvin can't because if he rests, all he would do is think about his daughter. Sullivan can't stop working because he could lose his mind."Whoah! Easy there, buddy." Marvin almost fell first on the floor if Fred didn't catch him first."I'm fine, Fred. I'm okay." Marvin tried to stand straight."You're not okay, Det. Sullivan. You haven't slept at all." Nolan, the other police officer, said as he passed them by."He's right, you know. Marvin, you need to sleep.""I can't sleep! That serial killer is still out there! My daughter died because of that serial killer! I cannot sleep!"Everybody stop
Carlos Aguilar, a man known for his prostitution business. A lot of men in Haverville go to him if they want temporary pleasure. No one in Haverville respects him, but many fear him because he's always surrounded by armed men.Many people see him as a parasite, especially women. They see him as a home-wrecker. A man born to destroy lives and families. It's partially true, though, so many families in Haverville have been destroyed because of his brothel.Yet, the city government can't do anything about him. Because he's the cousin of the mayor. In Haverville, he's practically untouchable. No matter how many times people petition for his brothel to be closed, their pleas were ignored."Carlos! Happy birthday!"It's his 58th birthday, and the celebration was meant to be big. By ten in the evening, the open field that used to be the mansion's garden is already full of people. His visitors came from different cities. Most of them are his customers."Tha