EVIDENCE DEFICIENCY

 Friday, January 12th 1996 – An exact one month before Cecilia’s death. A middle-aged vigorous looking man hurriedly, looked more like in panic, grabbed his black briefcase from on the table in his room where he always put it every single day at the bakery shop he owned. Victor Hillston. It was only 10 in the morning. His bakery shop had not even swarmed by hungry New Yorkers nearby – or not nearby – at lunch time as how it always is since its grand opening last year three weeks before Christmas. He put on his brown coat with no care letting some of its tip folded and showed some wrinkle on its back. He quickly left the shop without even minding to tell his two workers there who were left in confuse not knowing what was happening. With his broad shoulder he pushed the door open and left it opened while he ran to the west where he came from every morning, to his house, and took a few seconds while on his run taking out his phone which was pretty rare for someon

                  One week before Cecilia’s death – New York.                  New Yorkers seemed normal, though they always were, including Victor who sat on a chair in his bakery shop with both of his workers there, by his side, having light chit chat since no customers were there at such time. It was 8 at night. Actually a great time to have some bakeries, wasn’t it? But guess what, some fancy stuffs like lasagna attracted public’s attention more, which was shown in obvious that the restaurant beside them was full, filled with people and their hunger. Nevertheless, it was normal for Victor. It happened all the time, and he’s a good friend with the lasagna restaurant’s owner so … there is no reason can be said plausibly to pick a fight or to envy. Their light conversation filled the bakery shop to the point where Victor finally

                  New York, 1971.                  A married couple went in to a psychiatrist on a Sunday with their handsome young son holding each of their hand in between. An appointment was made a week before for a consulting session with Dr. Gold – Richard Gold, PhD. And so with ease after stating their intention to the receptionist there, the three of them were allowed to get inside Dr. Gold’s room. The room looked comfortable and had no feeling of hospital at all – and it was actually not a hospital since Dr. Gold held consulting session at his own house. Despite being so, the kid did not look happy at all.                  “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Hillston, please take a seat,” With his warm vo

                  “How long have you been keeping this in secret?” in a moving cab a voice of a younger man finally broke the silence covered them since the time day stepped out of Dr. Gulf’s room on around 3 p.m. Not taking any glances but the tone made it clear to whom it was addressed to.                  “The beach is so crowded … wonder if this is summer already?”                  “Tommy-“ “Few months.”                  Another silence filled the cab. Either the younger thinking about what question should he ask next or the older thinking about where to start all of this – or perhaps both happe

                  Saturday, 10th of February, 1996 – Narragansett, Rhode Island                  The day was sunny, indescribable pretty I can say if the readers somehow wonder the details of it. It was 10 a.m. in the morning but the sun had already risen almost completely, radiating its light and heat on the famous beach of Narragansett which was full of people, enjoying the beautiful weekend there. Even some were making a field by lining the sand to play beach volleyball there. Far, far away in the distance from the pub, can also be seen crowd, swimming in the safe area of the sea, still near the beach where it’s considered as safe since it didn’t pass the border. And here it is, the pub, Shore Side Pub, gradually got more and more regulars to come. Conversations and murmurs were filling the pub, not to ment