Harder than you think

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man hands himself into and confesses to the killing, but no the murder, of a man; across the country, almost simultaneously, four others do the same, and make the same confession. When all five evidence their crimes in a level of forensic detail, the news conference pirated onto national television 12 months comes back to haunt the establishment who had dismissed it, and questions the way in which we ask our law makers to act in protecting those who cannot protect themselves.

Submitted: July 23, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 23, 2012




Chapter One


Resting fingers steadily on the counter, and leaning forward slightly this time, the man said it again as had been requested by the desk sergeant –


“I am Blue Sword,” and placed on the counter a black hood, and what appeared to be a series of photos in a pile, maybe 10 in total; his voice was soft, with a trace of accent, maybe Scottish or Irish, and he was well presented without being a fussy dresser.


He stepped back from the counter, and calmly sat on one of the yellowed plastic chairs fixed to the floor. Sergeant Wells reached forward for the items left on the counter, and the first glimpse of the top photo stripped back the torpor of another 12 hour shift at the end of a heavy week. Looking closer, the torso of an adult male was visible and behind it the same face of the man who had surrendered the photo moments ago.


Dropping the photo back on the pile, Wells, gagged with the realization that came from looking yet closer at the corpse on display, devoid of limbs yet still recognizable as entirely human and utterly wrecked. Fresh, angry wounds cried out, and the eyes in the head placed on a nearby table viewed the scene with sullen detachment.


Staring at the young man who had now sat down in the waiting area, Wells began to recall that name, the one he had given when he came in; staring hard at the images passing through his hands as he flipped through the photos that would convict in seconds, not even the confession from the seating area could distract him from the perfectly chronicled crime unfolding in his hands.


“I am the man you can see in those pictures. That man was reported missing on March 23rd. The envelope has a written statement and a USB recording of him admitting what he had done.”


Wells glanced back to the desk, and saw a brown padded envelope he had not seen at first, blank but sealed. He stared across to the waiting area, and met the eyes of the first criminal who had ever confessed to him.


“the USB has a second recording of me bleeding him out, and removing his limbs. His head came off last, that’s on there too – don’t look unless you have to, its rough, but just as we said. There are other things on the USB that provide all the evidence you will need for a case like this”


Wells picked up the phone, suddenly remembering the briefings and hype of last year, something in the phrase “just as we said” striking a memory. I t had been a year ago, the news conference, the names, the row of men and the voice over laying out the idea of the Swords. There had been weeks of frantic investigations and briefings, Police news conferences, and endless overtime to cover the almost 24 hour patrols that became critical in settling the public outcry over this new terrorist threat.


“Hello, this is Wells down on the desk”



He stared again across to the young man, who was now reading the information on the notice board, apparently uninterested in the rapidly increasing sense of purpose and urgency developing around him.


“Yes Guv, you might want to come down here, got some guy in with photos of a murder – yes Guv, photos; and videos as well as he says”


Wells fingered the envelope seal, aware that his curiosity was not matched by his courage -


“No, thought it was best to keep that clean for the forensics people – yes Guv, will do”


The phone call over, Wells straightened out his shoulders and reached for his belt whilst moving towards the hinged section of the desk and addressing the young man with an authority and vigor in his voice that only appeared to bring a smile of satisfaction to his face. The young man clasped his hands behind his waste and slowly bent to his knees in front of the advancing Sergeant.


“Sir, I have to inform you I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything…………………..

© Copyright 2018 TJ OAD. All rights reserved.

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