baby i ➵ royce

Ch. 3 - Eleven PM.

Two weeks later, it was another day for me at work. It made it more great that I had my best friends, Breaunna and Craig, with me on the shift that we’re assigned to. If you don’t know what’s my occupation, remember on Ashton’s first day of school, I scared her teacher? Haha, yeah. I been a detective every since I graduated from college. Unfortunately, I’m the youngest that ever been a detective, even though I still don’t know why twenty-four is considered young.

Currently, we’re talking and laughing to a whole bunch of randomness that’s keeping us occupied in Craig’s office. We’re not on a mission yet, so this is what we doing. It’s not called slacking because we seriously don’t have nothing to do at the moment. There’s no crime scenes that’s available to check out either. But speaking of crime scenes and all that…

As I’m conversing with Bre and Craig, an article from the New York Times that’s I’m accessing on my iPad keep me interesting and brainstorming. It was an famous investigating article about a young Californian girl’s body was used for prostitution and incest---but this happened almost twenty years ago. It was about her stepfather sexually assault her until she got brainwashed and his brother forced her into the prostitution business.

The suffering minor goes by Jacqueline Perez and still as of today after the years her stepfather received a death sentence for every demonic activity, she’s nowhere found. Californian investigators doubted that she’s dead, but some of them want to shrugged it off and believe that’s she’s dead somewhere else in this world without being found. Also, they so happen can’t find her uncle either. Strange.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading about that Jacqueline Perez case again,” Craig groaned. “It’s impossible to know where this girl is if she’s been missing for almost thirteen years.”

“These people can find her if they weren’t being so lazy,” I scoffed. “Shit, they can find somebody else instead of finding the poor little girl that was forced to be a whore.”

“Oh nah, she ain’t little anymore,” Breaunna added. “Y’know how long this was? She’s probably living in Spain or Mexico, escaping from all this...past.”

“And what about her uncle that helped out with this prostitution?” I scrunched my eyebrow.

“Probably did suicide over the years,” She guessed. “I don’t know, but I hope we get real answers.”

“And this case all started in California, so we can’t do any searching for evidence,” Craig said.

“Yeah. . .” I mumbled as I pressed the home button, escaping out of the Google Chrome app. “You made a point. So I guess we have to wait until news travels, at least.”

If the latest news about this complicated case travels around until the whole New York knows about it, that’s what we have to focus on. It’s been years and years and there’s not enough justice because the stepfather brother is somewhere on the loose, relaxing and acting like he never got himself in this predicament in the early days. What Breaunna believe that he’s dead, my conscious forced me to doubt it.