tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

January 25ᵗʰ ─ 6:50 ᵖᵐ

"Hello again, Diana." Rodgers greeted when she entered the deathly cold interrogation room, Lisa and I were sitting beside each other. I was hoping that Lisa would pull me out of the deep shit Rodgers was sure to drown me in. 

"Detective." I say, by way of greeting. 

Detective Rodgers sighs, pushing her pretty blonde hair behind her ear and ducks into the bench table, in her hands she is carrying a white file box. Carefully lifting the lid away, Rodgers slips out a slick yellow folder. "Okay..."

 She opens the folder, cutting a glance at me before pulling a chuck of photos out. She sat them individually beside each other. 

"Do you recognize this person, Ms. Cartwright?" Rodgers said, her eyes on the images. She looked like the villian in my nightmares, I was officially afraid of Rodgers. 

I bit my bottom lip, reaching over and collecting one of the photographs. My eyes scanned over them, and in the moment, I wondered if Rodgers was screwing with me. 

"That is disgusting." I hissed at the detective, slaping the photographs back onto the table. "Why would you show me that?"

Rodgers tilted her head at me. "Why? What do you see that is so displeasing?"

I chuckled a bit, trying to look a bit more confident than I felt. "Don't play with me, Rodgers. Who is that?" I pointed back to the pictures, it had been a battered victim, with purple and dark bruises.

The victim's lips had been cracked and bloody, even split in the middle. That must have hurt, I thought inwardly. 

"Oh you don't know?" Rodgers looked like she'd just told a joke. "That is Michael Jackson."

"What?" The word flew from my mouth, my eyes went back to the pictures and I grabbed them up in my grip. I hadn't been able to recognize him because of the extent of his beating. "Oh my god."

 A sickening jolt went through my body. I was truly ready to hurl on Rodgers. I turned away, I didn't want to look anymore.

"Oh, don't look away, Ms. Cartwright. Look closer." Rodgers says.

Lisa nods at me slowly.

I sigh and hold my breath and turn back to the pictures. Oh, I hate looking at these. "Do you see the mark on his left cheek?"

I look closer, there is a triangular shaped bruise on his cheek.

"These are the marks the attacker left with the jewelry they were wearing." She says in a stern voice.

My mouth widens at that.

"There are about a dozen marks around his body. Also, boot marks on his lower abdomen." I never thought it was that bad.

"At first I didn't think I'd catch a break until I found this."

She pulls another picture out, this time I recognize it. It's a photo of Gloria and I, when I used to live at the Virginia Cartwright House. "What about this?" I ask.

"Look at your hand, Diana." She tells me.

I look at the photo again, and on my finger is a ring. The diamond ring my grandmother had given to me, the one that had disappeared.

Detective Rodgers pushes the picture of Michael's bruise and my ring together. And it...

Oh my god.

My ring was on the fist that attacked Michael.

I abruptly push myself out of my seat. My hand covering my mouth.

"Oh my god." I say loudly, tears clouding my eyes. "You think that I...you think that-"

"No, I don't think that, Diana. I know it. This evidence shows that. Now where is the ring, Diana? I know you have it." She stands straight.

My hand still over my mouth, I shake my head. "I lost it."

"Don't play with me, Diana!" Detective Rodgers slaps the photos on the table.

"I'm not!" I cry, tears flowing down my cheeks. "It disappeared."

"You watch, Ms. Cartwright." Det. Rodgers grabs up the pictures and stuffs them into the box. "When we find that jewelry, you're going to jail."

"Alright, we're done here!" Lisa rises from her chair and approaches me. "Let's go."