Once Upon A Crime

Prologue

     I remember many things about growing up.

     Like the fact that I had only two pairs of jeans, three shirts and one ugly pair of mud brown boots. 

     Or the one bedroom apartment that was shared with my mother.

     I remember being picked on through out school. For being poor, not knowing my father, my mom being an alcoholic. Many different reasons.

    But I never let any of the bad things bring me down. I did good in school and kept moving forward. I changed over the years, like everyone else did, but I changed for the better. Every bad memory, I locked away. All the hurt, I let go of it.

      I'm saying, I remember my childhood in clear detail.

     What sticks out for me is when I was eighteen, and got accepted into a very nice college. All expenses paid, full scholarship kind of deal.

     I was happy. Ecstatic. I could put my life behind me.

    But six months in to school, I got a phone call.
    
     A phone call that brought me back to a home I didn't want to ever see again.

     On the night of February 3rd, LVMPD, Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, called and asked me if I had any relation to Joan Darlington. I whispered a Yes.

     They asked me to come and identify a body they believed was her. A woman that had been murdered.

     To say I was shocked was an understatement. Yes I didn't have a relationship with my mother but she was still my mom.

     The following weeks after her murder, were tough. Somehow I made it through.

     I became stronger. Paid much more attention to things around me. I studied hard, but my heart wasn't in it.

     Eventually I left school. It was stupid, but I didn't have the passion for teaching anymore.

     I wanted something different. Something more.

     After my mothers funeral, I moved back home. Into the tiny apartment we shared while I was a kid.

    
     Months went by and still the police weren't able to solve my mothers murder. It was labeled an unsolved crime.

     That didn't sit well with me.

     I became a bit obsessed. The thought of someone out there getting away with such a terrible crime fueled the fire burning in me.

     Research. I did research. Three months worth. I was able to see into my mothers case file. I went through everything over and over. The case pulled me into a life I didn't know I wanted.

     At just twenty years old I knew this was something I wanted to do. I wanted to solve this mystery. Wanted to bring the person responsible for the death of my mother to justice.

     So I did what I had to do. Joined the police academy.

     Sadly enough, I wasn't able to join. Apparently I didn't follow orders too well. There was always a misunderstanding between myself and a higher ranking officer. Mainly I thought they were idiots. Some were. Some just like to follow protocol.

     The rules, the time, the struggles, it just wasn't what I was about. I saw the world differently. Colors, patterns, things others couldn't see, I saw.

     At twenty-two I was asked by the captain to help solve a staged crime scene before graduation.

    It was a easy setting. House with a seemingly normal family. Husband, wife, two children. All murdered in their home at ten o'clock at night.

     The mother and children, which were just test dummies, were found upstairs. The father being the only one found downstairs. Evidence collected suggested it was a home invasion gone wrong.

     Until I focused on the positioning of the father. His body lay to the east, and all blood spatter was pointed north. Except one little spot of blood. Which was to the south. That right there changed it all for me. It may have been a test for the academy, but for me it was too real.

     If the others before me hadn't seen that speck of blood how could I work with them to solve the real crimes?

     Come graduation, I quit the academy. With one thought on my mind.

     I want to help solve people's troubles, but in my own time and my own way. No rules to follow.

     Dangerous. But it would be worth it to help those in need. To help those, who never got the answers I was able to figure out for myself.

      So that's how I ended up here, in 2017, doing surveillance in my crappy honda.

     I am a licenced private detective.

     So far I have helped over eighty people. From crooked politicians to a child missing their dog, I help all I can.

     But I'm starting to think I made a huge mistake in this last case.

     Only reason for this thinking is the tap on the driver window, and the gun pointed at me.

     Well this should be interesting.