Personal Narrative-When The Innocent Are Murdered

When the Innocent are Murdered

It was a rainy day, and the city of London appeared to be lifeless. I observed the short menu in front of me as I sat in a small, blue booth at the back of ‘Monmouth Coffee and Crepes’. The door of the rustic coffee shop swung open, and the jingle of the bells attached to the door handle made me look up. A tall, blond man wearing dark jeans and a red hoodie, walked past the waitress who nearly swooned at the sight of his sharp jawline. Keeping his head down, the young man walked all the way back to my booth, and sat down across from me. “Why did you call me here?” he raised his head and big hazel eyes stared down at me. Clearing my throat, I bent my legs underneath me, and sat upon them in a bid to appear taller.

When the victims had finally been examined closely, their fingerprints helped led police to the discovery that their names were Scarlett Kennedy, and Carson O`Meara. Although they were murdered one day after the other, the two people seemed to have no connection whatsoever. The FBI searched far and wide for any form of relation between the two, and after 48 hours, discovered that they had both been family of Mr. Maverek Jessen. Mr. O`Meara was his biological father who gave him up for adoption at birth, and Miss Kennedy was his ex-wife. Jessen had been in conflict with both victims for years, and it seemed very likely that he had ended their lives to get rid of the anger that their very existence caused

It would be helpful if we could find any evidence to support our theory.” Isaiah was talking to the head of security at the police station in front of the cell that had held Maverek Jessen. I struggled to climb over the police tape that created a type of maze around the whole corridor, but ended up tripping. I quickly recovered just in time to see my partner motioning me over. “Alright, we go down this hallway and turn right. I have no idea what we are supposed to expect.” When we arrived, I bent down and got to work right away. Isaiah stood in the hallway, disgusted by the fact that his eyes were still open and rolled back into his head. “ISAIAH!!!” I heard a crash behind me, and turned around to look at my friend who’s arm was caught momentarily in the bars of the cell. “Jesus Christ, Anabel! Keep your voice down.” I covered his mouth with my hand in order to shut him up.“Look at what I found! It`s a message written on the inside of his shirt collar. It reads, G, U, A, R, D.” I looked up, confused. Guard. What did that mean?! “Anabel, we need to question all of the prison guards who were on duty when Maverek died.” Isaiah concluded. “Maybe this wasn’t a suicide… maybe this was another