Magical Merrigold #1
By age 9 I was regularly completing 10,000 piece puzzles. I know I probably should have been outside riding a bike or something, but that wasn’t really for me. I liked spending my afternoons hunched over the table; examining each one of those tiny pieces and making them fit together. What’s nice about puzzles is no one piece is any better than the other pieces. Yeah sure, one piece might have something cool, like an eye on it, but without all the other background connecting pieces you don't know anyting about the eye, you can’t see the story. I mean if you only took the “important” pieces all you’d have is a funny looking bit of cardboard with an eye on it, and where’s the fun in that?
You know, that’s probably why I became a detective in the first place. Not because I like eyeballs or anything, but because I like putting together tiny clues, if you will, to see the bigger story. Well… that’s what detective work used to be like anyways. Now a days the whole thing is a joke. They have all these hot-shot dumb shit little boys scouring the scenes for a strand of hair or part of a fingerprint. All they look for is that one piece of evidence they can use in court. It’s all about eyeball pieces and nothing about finding the rest of the story.
Sorry… I dunno really know why I’m telling you all this in the first place. You probably don’t give a damn. But I’ve had a couple drinks, and ya know, this bar kinda reminds me of one of those eyeball cases.
It was about 10 years ago, and the mystery still drives me mad. I got the call around 11 pm on a cold November night - a homicide/suicide down at the local dive bar. By the time I got down there the hot-shots were already doing their thing. I’m telling you what, these guys think that machines can tell you everything about the crime. With a little bit of that DNA it’s a case closed. But it’s those background pieces that tell the story. Putting together all the tiny pieces is what detective work really is about.
Anyways, so according to the bartender, the two gentleman had been sitting at the bar drinking pretty heavily in complete silence for a little over an hour. They didn’t arrive together and they didn’t even make polite conversation. Well, then out of nowhere guy number one announces that he wants to buy his good old buddy a drink. He then pulls in real close to guy number two and says loudly “I know who you are, and I got something I wanna tell you.” The next part the bartender didn’t hear at all, because guy number one was being all quiet like and whispering in the ear. What the bartender could tell us is that guy number two suddenly went all stiff and then
BAM! BAM!
Without hesitation guy number two pulls a G-33 out of his jacket and pops two right into guy number one’s forehead. From here the bartender didn’t see anything else. He was rightfully hiding behind the bar. He said that he heard guy number two sob heavily for a few seconds, and then he heard another bang. The guy had turned the gun on himself.
Now the hot-shots got all the fingerprints, and typed the bullets and took blood samples. After three hours they started treating the scene like it was a done deal. Case closed – that simple. Well of course we still had a little research to do and what not, but in a matter of days my super told me to seal the case. It was that cocky attitude those hot-shots that killed it. I know there was some sort of connection; I just needed more time to find it.
I can tell that you’re a smart gal. Obviously you can see what the big deal is here. I mean come on – What did the guy say? Why did he say it? We couldn’t figure out how the two knew each other, so who was the message really intended for? Sure we had the murder and the weapon complete with DNA and an witness, but those are all eyeball pieces; I didn’t get a chance to finish the back ground.
You know what the truth is, it’s not just this one case, and it’s not just crimes in general. People just don’t care about completing the story any more. We’re all walking around in life missing puzzle pieces because we take just enough information to skate by. No one puts in the effort to search the background. Well you should know that those are the pieces that give life context and meaning. Without that you’re just a funny looking bit of cardboard. I’m telling you it’s a damn shame. Damn shame indeed.
You know, that’s probably why I became a detective in the first place. Not because I like eyeballs or anything, but because I like putting together tiny clues, if you will, to see the bigger story. Well… that’s what detective work used to be like anyways. Now a days the whole thing is a joke. They have all these hot-shot dumb shit little boys scouring the scenes for a strand of hair or part of a fingerprint. All they look for is that one piece of evidence they can use in court. It’s all about eyeball pieces and nothing about finding the rest of the story.
Sorry… I dunno really know why I’m telling you all this in the first place. You probably don’t give a damn. But I’ve had a couple drinks, and ya know, this bar kinda reminds me of one of those eyeball cases.
It was about 10 years ago, and the mystery still drives me mad. I got the call around 11 pm on a cold November night - a homicide/suicide down at the local dive bar. By the time I got down there the hot-shots were already doing their thing. I’m telling you what, these guys think that machines can tell you everything about the crime. With a little bit of that DNA it’s a case closed. But it’s those background pieces that tell the story. Putting together all the tiny pieces is what detective work really is about.
Anyways, so according to the bartender, the two gentleman had been sitting at the bar drinking pretty heavily in complete silence for a little over an hour. They didn’t arrive together and they didn’t even make polite conversation. Well, then out of nowhere guy number one announces that he wants to buy his good old buddy a drink. He then pulls in real close to guy number two and says loudly “I know who you are, and I got something I wanna tell you.” The next part the bartender didn’t hear at all, because guy number one was being all quiet like and whispering in the ear. What the bartender could tell us is that guy number two suddenly went all stiff and then
BAM! BAM!
Without hesitation guy number two pulls a G-33 out of his jacket and pops two right into guy number one’s forehead. From here the bartender didn’t see anything else. He was rightfully hiding behind the bar. He said that he heard guy number two sob heavily for a few seconds, and then he heard another bang. The guy had turned the gun on himself.
Now the hot-shots got all the fingerprints, and typed the bullets and took blood samples. After three hours they started treating the scene like it was a done deal. Case closed – that simple. Well of course we still had a little research to do and what not, but in a matter of days my super told me to seal the case. It was that cocky attitude those hot-shots that killed it. I know there was some sort of connection; I just needed more time to find it.
I can tell that you’re a smart gal. Obviously you can see what the big deal is here. I mean come on – What did the guy say? Why did he say it? We couldn’t figure out how the two knew each other, so who was the message really intended for? Sure we had the murder and the weapon complete with DNA and an witness, but those are all eyeball pieces; I didn’t get a chance to finish the back ground.
You know what the truth is, it’s not just this one case, and it’s not just crimes in general. People just don’t care about completing the story any more. We’re all walking around in life missing puzzle pieces because we take just enough information to skate by. No one puts in the effort to search the background. Well you should know that those are the pieces that give life context and meaning. Without that you’re just a funny looking bit of cardboard. I’m telling you it’s a damn shame. Damn shame indeed.
posted by Magical Merrigold at 2:34 AM
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