Breaking Point - Another Note

File One

People have always been intrigued by death. “What happens after we die?” is one of the most Googled questions. In my line of work I see what happens when people force death on others. But my experiences on the Kira investigation were the darkest moments in my whole career, and yet I would do it all over again. 

Rose Stanley. Twenty-five. World renowned forensics analyst. Home base, Chicago. Chances are if you're a self proclaimed "crime junkie" you've heard of me. 

Many of the reports you'll read or the podcasts you listen to will tell you that I got to where I am because I went to school and paid a lot of money for a piece of paper that says I am qualified to look at crime scenes and bones. But everyone I have ever worked with also had that same paper. 

The truth is I got to where I am because I'm good at reading people. 

Most of you might think my job is cleaning blood and bagging up evidence. But it's more than just that. I collect research about my victims and analyze everyone that was ever close with them. I was the reason monsters were sent to jail simply by revealing the truth that people are like puzzles. 

Sure there is one big picture that is presented to everyone in the end. But making up the picture is a tiny piece. 

People are the same, showing us the big picture, the things they want to show us. What I was good at was uncovering and breaking apart the tiny pieces. 

My day started as any day at work. I arrived at the lab to start a full body analysis on my latest victim. She wasn't fully decomposed yet. Those were always the hardest to stomach. 

But before I could even begin to take notes on the body laid out before me, my boss came in walking towards me with a large folder. 

I knew right away with his posture and long strides that whatever was in the folder was important. His strong eye contact with me from outside the glass door told me that it was urgent and the slight frown told me that the case was gonna be a hard one. At least for him. 

"Rose," his flat voice entered the room. "I'm sorry to take you away from this case but you're needed elsewhere," I rolled my eyes. I never liked when people walked into my space without permission, especially when I was in the middle of work. "Fine," I sighed, laying my tools down on the slab in front of me, leaving my co-workers to finish the job. 

As soon as I made it to my bosses office he shut the door and started talking to me in a low voice, "Have you been keeping up with what is going on overseas?" Truthfully, I didn't care to watch the news. I dealt with many of the stories they would report on in my work life. I didn't like to hear more about it in my own time. However Kira, meaning Killer in Japanese, had become the talk amongst many of my colleagues. Most of them were intrigued by how Kira was getting away with his murders, but some seemed to be more interested in the moral standing of Kira himself. 

To me it was pretty black and white. No matter how bad the people were that I had been responsible for putting behind bars, I could never inflict the same evil on them as they had done to my victims. But I also was never very grounded in the belief that there was a God to judge us either. The true justice was living with the guilt of ending another human's life. Or for some the guilt of being caught. 

Time was the only true God in my world. 

"I know that he can kill people from a distance and I know that most of the killings have been ruled as heart attacks. I know all of his victims have been criminals big and large and that whoever the prick is thinks they are essentially playing god." And I was not impressed by their performance.