Pure Black

I saw Jesus in my cereal this morning. Which is strange because he didn’t do much. Isn’t that funny? That I’d look down and see him staring back at me. I think they were cheerios although I can’t really say for sure. Thing is, people see things that aren’t there. Detectives, all cops really, face a challenge in that regard. An assumption can cause you to chase the wrong guy, maybe even put him down for something he didn’t do—which is a helluva sin—while leaving the real perp out there to do more harm. An assumption can also lead you to a dead end and stop you seeing a pattern. Cases go cold because of that because cops see what was never there and they completely miss the point. But like Jesus in my cereal, patterns appear all around us and we imbue them with meaning.

Assumptions, patterns... They stop us seeing the truth. It’s like the colour black. We think we know the colour black because we see it when we shut our eyes but we don’t. Not really. Not only do our eyes trick us into seeing an array of floating lights and colours that are nothing like a true absence of colour, but we also fail to appreciate just how much light still gets through our eyelids.

Everyone around me wants to give this guy something that isn’t there. They want to give him motivations, and a childhood, or some kind of inner life. The ridiculous nonsense floating around this precinct makes me sick. Cults? Abusive childhood? Some shit about a sister on record? *Pathetic.* Completely missing the point. How could you be so blind? You shouldn't be allowed to work on this guy's case if you can't see that. There’s no inner life. There’s no motivation. There’s nothing there.

Just black.

Let’s start at the beginning.

We have a crime scene. A young girl of seventeen was found dead; she was the first, I’ll focus on her for now.

She was babysitting for some neighbours—her own home is three houses down—and it was in their house she was found. We’ve only got two witnesses; they’re the two youngest kids in the house. I’m told the eldest was at a sleepover. The children were found in the babysitter’s car with the doors locked, and it took a police officer thirty minutes to coax them out even with their parents and older brother right by window. They’re not speaking anything that makes sense. Initial reports show nothing was taken from the home, at least if the owners are to be trusted. There are some signs of ransacking. Specifically, the door from the living room to the kitchen has a mark of force consistent with a grown man’s foot kicking it. There is no damage to the frame, however; nor does the door lock. This means it is not immediately clear if the door was kicked, or why. Also in the kitchen, three or four drawers were ripped out with such force they fell onto the floor. Again, it doesn’t look like anything of value was taken although a kitchen knife is missing. On the floor, near the drawers, there is a rolling pin with what appears to be slash marks on it. Could be from cooking, could be from a struggle, we’re not sure so we took it into evidence anyway.

The only sign of anything in the living room is a long gash in the patio curtains. Interestingly behind the patio doors is a screen which was not damaged. It seems unlikely that the cut across the curtains was a result of someone entering through the screen door; this is important to note because initial reports from first-response units stated that the patio doors were the likely source of entry. They probably assumed this because the patio doors were open by a crack. They figured, given the storm going on that night, that the only reason the doors were open were because someone came in.

But really, there are no signs of forced entry anywhere in the house. We did find large prints, size twelve (inconsistent with owners) in a rose bush at the far end of the garden. This is a location that offers a good view into the living room. There are multiple prints indicating an arrival somewhere to the East of the bushes; these approaching prints are light and show signs of weathering. The wind and rain probably worked decreased the depth of the tracks.

However, one pair of prints was deep and crystal clear.

Normally, someone who stands still lifts their feet and shuffles around to keep blood flow clear. You see this kind of tell-tale repeat pattern that the shoes have come up and down on the same spot dozens of times. But these prints? They don’t show that kind of pattern. I had a hunch and got the heaviest guy in the force to stand still in the same place for as long as he could and we saw similar prints. It looks like the culprit stalked up to the rose bushes, planted his feet in one spot and didn’t move. Water analysis of the soil tells us those two patches beneath his feet were quite dry. We can’t get an accurate estimate, but he could have been stood there for hours all while the storm raged around him.

Pure black…

No other forensic evidence was found near that specific bush. However, investigation of the garden did reveal three other sites with similar prints, and loose soil was found on top of the pool house. This suggests that the culprit may have used multiple vantage points and waited for a long time watching the house. We cannot rule out the possibility that the culprit ‘scouted’ the house prior the date of the murder. He was clearly quite patient.

Back inside the house, the owner’s bed was damaged with what looks like a long-edged blade, probably some kind of knife. In the children’s bedroom something similar was found. The children’s beds were arranged in a row of three. The bed nearest the window had knife marks similar to those seen in the parents’ bedroom, but the two further along did not show any signs of damage. On those two beds the duvet had been rolled up and laid on the bed with a sheet thrown over them. Under the two beds furthest from the window we found depressions in the carpet and disturbed dust. On the bedroom door we identified a single bloody thumbprint leading out into the hallway, nothing was found on the way in. The window into the children’s bedroom was open. Officers found a small bracelet, possibly belonging to the victim, on the roof of the pool house that the window looks out onto. It remains a possible point of entry, but the bracelet muddies the situation somewhat.

A timeline isn’t very clear. I’d say that at some point the guy came in through the window and immediately attacked the bed closest to him. The duvet and pillow had been rolled up and laid in such a way to look like the bed was occupied. It’s interesting that he must’ve tossed the bedding back, seen the ploy, and immediately left into the hallway without checking the other beds. I have a strong suspicion that the children were hiding under the beds. I don’t understand the print and where it falls on the timeline but that and the bloody thumbprint strongly implies that at this stage the assault had begun, and that someone had been wounded.

That’s all I can say for sure. But if I were to posture? It looks like the girl had been attacked earlier at some point and managed to either repel the attacker or run away. In a remarkable display of intellect and spatial awareness she must’ve known that the attacker was approaching the house via the only open window—the children’s bedroom—and she planned a clever decoy. She waited with the children while the attacker entered, attacked the decoy, and then left the bedroom to look elsewhere (and leaving a bloody print while doing so). Her and the children then left through that same open window, dropped down onto the roof of the pool house, and…

Well there was the bracelet on the roof. It could have easily slipped off in a panic. Then again, two children, aged between six and nine, dropping onto the roof of the pool house wouldn’t be quiet, even in a storm. Maybe he heard, turned back, and as she lowered herself onto the roof, legs first, she saw him return. He would have been backlit by the light from the hallway. Maybe she dropped and that was when the bracelet came off. Maybe it was a closer shave than that and she looked up to see him looming over her and that was when he reached down and gripped her wrist. He raised one hand to bring the knife down but he’d only found purchase on her bracelet, not her actual wrist, and when that snapped she fell out of his reach.

Was it after that she put them in the car? Why didn’t she join them? Why didn’t she drive away? What did she know? Was it something she saw, as he towered above her in that frame. A black silhouette glaring down at her like some totemic sentinel.

Pure black…

Maybe she made a noble choice and went back to keep him away from the kids. Maybe that’s why the patio door was open. That’s not very clear though. We did find a rag somewhere near the third corpse and it matches some dish towels belonging to the owners of this house. The culprit may have used it to scrub the blood off his hands or his knife. He could have been the one to open the door. I can’t say for sure. But the scene in the living room isn’t as clean as it first appears. That gash in the curtains… I see it in a few different ways. Maybe, after returning to through the doors she heard him descending the stairs and she promptly hid behind the curtains. She would have held her breath and waited, grimacing with fear as her chest burned like she had a lungful of pine needles, and then out of nowhere a near miss. It would have all come rushing out as the steel edge tore through the velvet fabric, missing her by… inches? Millimetres?

I can’t say, except that it missed her. Then again maybe it was the culprit who stayed hidden. This could have occurred before or after the bedroom after all. God, can you imagine? Can you picture the scene? A young girl of seventeen goes and puts two children to bed in a stranger’s house while a storm rages outside. She returns, settles down and goes to turn the TV on but it doesn’t react. Confused, she stands and approaches the corner of the room and goes to move the curtains that obscure the plug which powers the TV when… does she notice his feet first and then he attacks? A sudden, violent lunge, where a pointed edge appears from fabric like it was summoned from the aether? Or does it catch her off guard completely?

Maybe that’s when she runs upstairs? I can’t say. Not for sure. None of us can. Does she then run into the kitchen?

Did she tear those drawers open? I can see him entering and obtaining the blade in a quiet and deliberate manner. I think it was her who tore the drawers open. I think she ran there with him coming up fast. I think she slammed the door behind her and he kicked it open with the kind of force that left a big fucking dent. Maybe she jumped at the sound, maybe she knew it was futile all along and all she wanted was to distract him long enough for her to get some kind of weapon. She ran around the island in the centre of the kitchen and began looking for one while he was so hot on her trail that as she pulled the drawers out—imagine the noise, the sound of a cutlery drawer falling three feet while full of forks and knives and whisks and other bits of loud metal crap—she could feel the distance closing. She could feel the air crackle with the electric tension of a killer’s desire and in the end she grabbed the only thing she thought would help.

A rolling pin, held up, stopped the first slash. Maybe there was a second, or a third or a fourth… who knows? She might have fallen backwards as he loomed over her, she might have been standing and slowly backing up. I think further forensic investigation might reveal those kinds of details. I’m sure there’s someone out there with that kind of expertise. I’m not sure it matters as much as the girl’s display of tenacity. She made a good account of herself. I’ll make sure that fact gets passed onto her parents. I hope it counts for something.

Seven hours before all this she’d been sitting in maths class. Picture that. And now I want you to picture taking a man’s car. Think about it. Think about how you’d feel if someone took your car. You know it’s wrong, right? What about a house? What about taking someone’s hand? What about everything? Picture it. Picture a man’s life piled up high. Picture his toys as a child, his food, his meals, his house, car, clothes, pets, gadgets, all of it. All of it piled up like a big bonfire waiting to be lit. Now add everything he will one day have. Picture his oxygen respirator—two-metre-high tubes of air to pump into his lungs—and his wheelchair, his wealth yet to be earned, his garden furniture, his tools, his children…

When you kill someone you’re taking it all. Everything they have ever had and ever will have is stolen away by you. Most people can’t do it. Most people can’t come close. This girl would have looked up at him. We found her out in the garden. She slipped… poor thing. We’re still looking over the crime scene but we can see enough from wet cheeks and red eyes. She looked up at him and plead for her life. She begged. She saw it, the pile of things I just described. Any money she saw it piled up high behind him and she felt her stomach drop like a breeze block through wool. She must’ve realised at some point that it was being taken away her. Everything she ever had, and everything she ever would, was going to be taken by this monster in front of her.

Eighty-nine wounds. Some of them blend together. They’re all over the place. You know I can picture it so clearly, except for one thing. This guy? His eyes? I can't see them. In my mind he’s got some generic face, I mean what’s it matter, really? I just see a kind of white guy, a kind of mask maybe. But his eyes? I can’t see them. When I close my eyes and picture the eyes, the last ones that girl ever looked into I don’t see anything. They’re just…

Pure. Black.