Romeo o' Romeo - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

There was once a time when I sincerely believed that every person was born good.  I mean, it’s not hard to imagine, people are inherently good, and free of evil when born. It’s the circumstances that leads them astray. The hardships of life that turns them against one another.  Just like Judas. Yes, Judas Iscariot, one of the 12 apostles of Christ.  If you believe that he betrayed Jesus for just thirty silver coins then you’ve got the whole world going behind your back.  There is no person who loves money above anything else.  They may seem greedy to other’s eyes, but behind that greed is reason that only them can understand.  Reason that outweighs logic.  Reason that burdens them every second of their life.  And nothing hurts more than the fact that they had to resort to inhumane means to make both ends meet.

So the next time you see someone behind bars, try to look past those criminal eyes. Take a peek into the battered soul of a human being who had to go through hell and back for something that they thought more important than their own soul.  Even those who sinned greater than the mind can comprehend.  Because there is always something bigger, something inexplicable, something more tragic that twists a person’s soul.

Love.

I was getting my stuff ready when Phil walked in with a brown envelope in hand.  I didn’t notice him because I was too busy holding one of Romeo’s letter against the light.  There was something odd about the letter for his landlord. It’s as if there is money inside of it, probably a couple of thousand bucks.

“You know we can just open it, don’t you?  I mean it’s not like those people will mind. In fact, we have all the right to do so if it’s in aid of investigation.  By the way, here’s your request.”

He dropped a couple of pictures that I requested to be taken before heading back to the office.  The photographs fanned out on top of my table as if mimicking a winning hand in a poker table.

“Thanks man. You sure nothing has been done on him before these were taken?”

“Nope. That’s the first thing they did since he arrived in the labs. By the way, what exactly are you looking for in those spots?”

“Bruise marks, swelling, any sign that there was a fight.”

I wasn’t completely honest with Phil.  I was looking for more than just bruise marks and swellings. Something Selena reminded me of.

“Look at this Phil.”

I held up a picture of Romeo’s left palm and pointed my index finger towards some smudges on its lower corner.

“What’s that? Dirt?”

“Ink smudges Phil. Ink smudges.”

Phil gave me a confused look that almost amused me.  Knowing more than others has always given me some sense of authority.  It just always feels so good when people can barely keep up with your intellectual prowess. It’s as if I find amusement in their inferiority.  Surely a bad thing to get used to.

“Here look at this.  Ink smudges on his palm and then here. What does that tell you?”

I was referring to the ink that smudged one of the top corners of the envelope.

“Sorry man, you have to spread it out to me. I’m not following.”

“Listen closely and try not to get lost. Our guy here is left handed.  That explains the ink smudges on the lower part of his palm and the ones behind the corners of the envelopes. Look when you write using your left hand you always end up smudging the lower half of your palm because it always goes after the pen.  Unlike when you write using your right hand where the palm always comes before the pen.  Now the smudges on the envelopes validates my speculation that he is left handed because the smudges on its corner shows that the letters were inserted in the envelope using the left hand.”

Phil held up one of the envelopes to properly inspect it.

“Sounds rock on solid to me. But what does that have to do with the case?”

“Oh my God Phil! Where have you been all this time? What was Romeo’s position when his mother and Landlord found him?”

“He was lying face up.”

“-With arms wide spread. Where did we find the Kitchen knife?”

“Right beside his right hand. You think this might be?”

“Yes Phil.  I believe the whole scene has been set up.  The things we found was meant to lead us to believe that it’s a suicide because the person who did this wanted us to follow that trail.”

“Makes sense.  But it still doesn’t add up.  Your assumption validates that he indeed wrote the letters. Why would he write those letters in the first place if he wasn’t up to commit suicide?”

Phil was right.  Romeo’s letters are pieces of evidence that doesn’t add up to my theory. 

“I don’t know yet Phil. But who knows? Maybe he was coerced to write them to lead the police astray.”

“So let me see if I got this straight. So you’re saying that someone, who didn’t forcefully enter Romeo’s house coerced him to write 3 suicide letters, killed him, cleaned up the crime scene and arranged things to make it look like a suicide without taking a single thing out of the apartment? Seems like comic book material to me man.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at what Phil just said. He is right, my theory is just way too outrageous even for a Batman villain if you put it in such arrangement.  I think I may have let my imagination run wild.

“Hahaha! You’re right.  I kind of find it hard to believe myself. Why don’t we go down and grab some donuts?”

“No can do man. The Chief told me to get your ass up to his office as soon as you get here.”

“And why am I not so surprised? Well I guess I should get going then.  You wanna come with me?”

“Not at all man. I’m happy to wait downstairs.”

What Phil meant with downstairs is Dunkin Donuts. His favorite afternoon spot, where he drinks his 3^rd cup of coffee for the day while chewing on 2 pieces of Boston Kreme donuts.

“Fine. And while you’re at it, why don’t you get me a Bacon Bunwich and a cup of coffee too?”

“It’ll be waiting for you when you get down Mr. Gavin.”

I packed the pictures and letters in a brown envelope before I made my way out of my office to see the chief.  I couldn’t help but think about my idea while walking through the corridor.  If ever, this wouldn’t be the first case in history that has had a setup crime scene.  There has been several cases preceding this one, some which were setup to make everyone believe that it was either an accident or a suicide.  But what makes me restless is that most of those victims were either artists, wealthy businessmen or politicians.  People of whom the suspects could get something out of.  Not just any commoner like Romeo.

It took me less than 5 minutes to get to the chief’s office.  But the trail of thoughts ran on and on until I opened the door and saw the chief sipping on a smoking hot cup of coffee.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes I do.  Where are we at Marcus?”

I pulled my eyebrows together to show the chief that I’m a bit annoyed at the pressure he’s putting on top of me.

“I told you earlier, we’ve still got nothing on this.”

“So you found nothing in the crime scene?”

“Nothing that would incriminate anyone in specific. We’ve got the murder weapon, a couple of stuff with prints on them, and 3 god damn letters.”

“Letters? Initial reports didn’t have them. When and where did you get them?

“Same time as the others.”

“And why did you leave them out?”

“I couldn’t risk you thinking that this was a suicide.”

“What did you just say to me?”

He stood up from his chair as though displaying his full height as a sign of authority. The chief was about a couple of feet taller than me and a lot heavier than I could care to count. 

“I said I couldn’t risk you thinking that this case was a suicide. Because you’re gonna settle with it. And knowing you, you’ll definitely pull the plug out of this investigation the moment you know that there’s an easy way out.”

“That’s a bit disrespectful Mr. Gavin. What makes you think I’d do that?”

I swung my head from left to right while taking a deep breath to get ready for a long argument.

“Martinez, Carlos and Aquino. You put a halt on their respective cases the moment you found out that there was a strong evidence pointing to a possible suicide.”

The chief walked over to my side, looked me close in the eye, and shoved a folder into my chest.

“I don’t know what you’re saying. And I don’t know what’s gotten into you to even think that of me. But I’m gonna let it go for now. I’m gonna let it go because we have bigger fish to fry. But don’t you ever think that this is past us.”

So much for being silent and keeping my cool.  The chief clearly looked offended in the wake of what I just said.

I opened the folder and read through the documents. 

“What are these? This is insane. You want me to draft a report and submit it to you in less than 24 hours after the crime?”

“Not just to me, but also to the Head of the LGBT activists, Commission on Human rights, and Senator Valdez.”

“You want what? Are you crazy? Why would you want me to do that?”

“Because that’s what needs to be done. Those people have already set their sights on us since we’ve taken the lead on this investigation. I’m sure that’s the first thing they’re gonna ask for in the morning.”

I dropped the folder on the Chief’s table and palmed my face in disbelief.

“This is unbelievable. You want me to draft a conclusive report when I don’t even have a suspect yet. And on top of that, you want me to send a copy of it to some activists causing traffic disturbance twice a month, a biased commission led by one of them, and a Senator who made a publicity stunt by going out and making it his campaign slogan. What do you want me to do next? Kiss their asses?”

“I advise you to tone down Marcus. You really don’t get it do you? How many times do I need to tell you? Our country has severely neglected the 3^rd sex.  We’ve made reforms and laws for all sort of things.  But never did we once do something within the law that even acknowledges their existence.  That, together with all the hate crimes will blow up right in our faces some day.  We’re lucky they’ve held on for this long.”

“Are you saying that Romeo is the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

“No. Romeo is the fucking Straw that crushed the camel’s back!  I hate this as much as you do. I hate kissing their asses like this. But we have no choice.  They’ll be out hunting for blood, and if we don’t give them someone, they’ll go after our heads.”

“You mean after your head sir.”

“Call it whatever you want Marcus. But you have to give me someone I can offer them. You see, the thing about anger is that it needs an object to be focused on. You can’t be angry at nothing.  That’s why wives get angry at their husbands for no apparent reason at all. Because when shit hits the fan and they don’t know who to blame, they focus all of the anger to the person right next to them. So you either give me a head they can stone. Or I’ll give them yours for breakfast.”

You fucking son of a bitch!

My inner self was screaming out loud with fury.  That son of a bitch is gonna throw me right under the bus when things go south. 

“So you’re going to sell me out if I don’t deliver?  How’s that going to work out for you? ‘Hey look, my guy here can’t come up with someone to blame. So why don’t you go ahead and blame him instead?’ I don’t think people will buy that well sir.  You’re my boss. You’re accountable for my actions.  I screw up, you screw up.”

The Chief placed his coffee mug on the table before wiping his mouth dry with a ply of tissue.

“Don’t keep your fingers crossed on that.  People aren’t as smart as you and me. I pull out some dirt on you and it’ll be easy to make them believe what a negligent and corrupt officer you are. After all, isn’t that how they see every police officer in this country nowadays?”

“You son of a—“

“Shut your mouth Marcus! Just shut your mouth and do your job! Just give me a suspect and it won’t have to come to that.”

“But you’re missing the point! I don’t have anyone! What do you want me to do? Concoct some evidence that would incriminate a vindictive ex-boyfriend, or a pissed off neighbor?  What you’re asking of me is nothing short of impossible.”

“You’re a smart guy Marcus.  You’ll figure something out.  Just like you always do…”

“You son of a bitch.  That’s exactly what you want me to do right? Make up stuff to incriminate someone who can’t fight back.  Someone you can humiliate in public to appease those bastards pressing on you.  Tell me Robert, what dirt do they have on you?  What mess did they dig up to make you hide your tail between your legs?”

“This conversation is over Marcus. Close the door behind you.”

No, I didn’t want this conversation to end. I want this to go on until we both get heated up and take it all out in a brawl. I want to smack this asshole right in the face. I want to tear him to pieces, rip off a pound of flesh and crush his bones with my bare hands.

“You just crossed the line Robert.  I always knew that you weren’t clean.  But I never imagined you to be this low.  Go ahead, protect your position at the expense of your soul.  One day all of this is gonna come back to haunt you.  And when that time comes, do not even think of coming to me.  Don’t, because you just sold me out old friend.  I just wished I had one of those old silver coins so I can give it to you and say that you were not as low as Judas.”