The Fall of the Fainthearts

Chapter Twenty-Six: I Know What Happened That Night

Kian Cash: My daughter was not a junkie. She had her whole fucking life ahead of her, she would never be so stupid and reckless with it. She got spiked. The asshole who did it took her life from her at twenty-four years old. This was not an accident. She was just a kid. She was my little girl.

Axel: The press thought I'd drugged her. Slipped her something I shouldn't, lied to her about what she was taking, whatever they decided to run with that day. They wasn't totally clear on their story but they knew they wanted to make me the villain. It didn't matter if it was believable, they had someone they could blame that would sell newspapers. I was mourning my friend who died in my arms, and they wanted to tell the world that her death was my fault.

Kian couldn't talk to anyone for days. We tried to check in on him but him and his wife were so distraught they needed to be alone for a while. Pretty quickly Kian was in therapy for his trauma. He had a nervous breakdown when we were told a case is being opened for suspected foul play and we didn't see much of him after that until her funeral.

Bentley: The autopsy report showed a very small amount of alcohol in her system, but a heavy amount of some hardcore shit. It just didn't make any sense. I'd seen her drinking all night, and Jade just wasn't the type to use. I called bullshit, but it only made the situation harder so I sucked it up for everybody's sakes.

They wouldn't release her body. We weren't allowed to plan her funeral, yet. She had to stay at the morgue while they searched for more evidence and tried to find out what had happened to her. It wasn't long before we were each brought in for questioning.

Dahlia: It was fucking disgusting. I know they had a job to do, but they made us feel like murderers. I'd cried myself to sleep every night for a week, replaying the moment I lost her pulse again and again in my head - and they had the cheek to start asking me if I'd seen Axel alone with her at any point in the night. My best friend. I couldn't believe they were treating him as suspect number one just because he used to have a drug problem. He'd been clean for so long, he wouldn't dream of using.

I'm sure causing a scene over the whole ordeal really didn't help my case, but I didn't need my case to be helped. I was stone cold sober that night and that's why I can still picture every agonising detail in my head like it was yesterday - it isn't a gift. My drugs tests came back clean, and I had nothing to hide. It wasn't me I was worried about.

Vince: My tests didn't come back clean. I'm lucky, really, that it was only some stupid shit and I wasn't totally gone or I wouldn't have been able to bail myself out. Still, I earned myself a couple weeks worth of recurring drugs tests and and I was a bit higher on their list of suspects because I'd proven I had access.

Bentley: The secret partner of the victim? Yeah, I was in big trouble. Sparked all kinds of conversation about hidden motives, not even just between the police, but the press. But for some reason they were so overly hung up on getting evidence that it was Axel, that they were a lot easier on me than I expected them to be.

Axel: They treated me like scum on the bottom of their shoe. I remember the first time they called me in for questioning, I was under the impression they just wanted a witness account of what happened that night. I had no idea they were treating me as a suspect.

He sat across from me like this, all square and defensive with his arms crossed. He looked at me hard and asked me when the last time I used was. I knew I was in for a good time, at that. Very direct.

I told them, not since the overdose. I said to them, "I thought this was about Jade?" The fucker looked at me and said, "We have reasons to believe that you may have been involved with Jade's death in some way, Mr Faintheart."

I was confused. Rightfully so, I think. I asked what me relapsing had anything to do with her death in the first place, unless I had a reason to bump her off and knew how to get my hands on something that would. They told me that they'd had a large number of witness accounts claiming that she'd been drinking, yet there was barely a trace of alcohol in her system. Their only lead was that either everybody at that party was lying to cover something up, or she wasn't drinking what she'd thought she was.

I tried to think back. She was drinking the punch. The punch that she made just for me, and for Flo. I didn't like where my train of thought was going and I could just feel my stomach twisting itself up into a knot. They went on to say they they believe she was spiked drinking that very punch, as it was all she was seen drinking that night.

They stopped. They waited for me to speak. I didn't, as the penny hadn't dropped yet. So they continued.

One of the investigators went on to say that with the news out about the marriage and the baby, it's normal for people to become doubtful that they're ready. He was trying to prompt me to speak. It's normal for dad's to wonder what they've done, whether they want this for themselves. It's normal for a recovering drug addict to fall back into old ways and believe they won't be able to do it - that they aren't strong enough to stay clean for that baby.

I flipped the table. I saw red. I shouted until my throat was red raw. They were accusing me of the unthinkable. They were accusing me of trying to kill my unborn child. Police quickly rushed in and I was pinned to the wall and handcuffed.

Dahlia: I could hear him screaming from the waiting room. Florence sobbed and I just held her, rocking her back and forth. Through the walls we could hear him shouting, "How fucking dare you!" We heard the table crash to the floor. We had no idea what was going on in there. Shit was bad enough as it is, and now we had all of this on our plates. I was a nervous wreck.

Axel: "Calm down, Mr Faintheart." The anger That was waving through me was overwhelming. But then something stopped me right in my tracks. I was pushed up against the wall, head held against the brick. One minute I was an aggressor, the next I shrunk down in fear.

Realisation hit me. The punch. Figgy. The argument. That punch.

Suddenly, I knew exactly what had happened that night. And I was too scared to say it.