Spy School: Framed for Murder (DISCONTINUED)

Prologue: Murder

Hi, readers! This is my first ever story, so feel free to let me know what I'm doing well and give me feedback. I won't be uploading chapters consistently, as I'm still in the middle of planning and researching the story, but I wanted to get a few chapters out first.
All the characters belong to Stuart Gibbs, except for characters I make up myself. The story belongs to me.
Enjoy!

"Barnabus Sidebottom," the detective murmured under his breath. "What an odd name."

"Detective!" one of the CSI agents beckoned him over. "I've found something."

The detective strode over to the agent's side, looking over his shoulder at the monitors. Immediately, he realized what the agent was talking about. There was footage of what looked to be a young boy - the footage was too blurry to tell what exactly he looked like - inside the principal's office. The agent hit play, unpausing the footage. The boy and the principal seemed to bicker a little, and in a sudden and fluid motion, the boy snatched a gun out and shot the principal exactly one time in the chest, before fleeing the room immediately after.

"I want a student or a teacher inside, now," the detective announced. "We need to identify the boy. There's a possibilty the boy might be attending this academy."

The agent rewound the tape, while another exited the room. Moments later, a girl with prominent green eyes entered the room, a hint of fear inside them. The detective gave her a warm smile. "What's your name?"

"Zoe," she replied nervously.

"Okay, Zoe, I'd like you to identify someone for me." The detective nodded at the monitor. "Do you recognize that boy?"

Zoe squinted at the screen for a moment, before her eyes widened and her face paled. She stumbled backward, her eyes fixated on the screen, a sense of disbelief in them. She recognizes the boy.

"Zoe? Can you tell me who he is?"

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Zoe?" the detective asked gently.

She started shaking her head so violently he thought it might topple off her shoulders. She backed away and ended up against the wall, but her feet continued to backpedal, as if she was trying to sink into the wall and disappear. "No, no, no," she muttered. "It can't be. How?"

"Zoe, who is the boy?"

Bottom lip trembling, she whispered, "I can't. I can't."

"You know him?"

She nodded.

"Is he a close friend of yours?"

She nodded again.

The detective sighed, realizing that the girl was probably not going to tell them who the boy was no matter what. He waved her out of the room, then told the agent, "Go find a teacher. I heard they're really strict, so no doubt they'll tell us who the boy is."

He was right. The next person that came in was a muscular man who was probably in his sixties, but still looked extremely athletic. After asking him to identify the boy, the man immediately took one look at the screen and snorted. "I knew that boy was trouble."

The detective leaned forward, interested. "Who is he?"

The teacher looked him straight in the eye. "Benjamin Ripley."