Innocent Until Proven Guilty

I would have never thought that Oliver would end up where he was today.

The smart boy who never overstepped any boundaries, who always greeted me and my wife when we ran into each other at the grocery store, who went on laundry runs for the neighbours, who brought back chocolates for the kids, wasn’t supposed to end up in an interrogation room.

His sunken eyes look at me through the half-open door, and I’m compelled to enter and get him out.

But I can’t.

I must not let emotions get in the way.

Not being a police officer has its pros and cons.

Its pros being that I still have feelings, and its cons being the same thing.

If I were a cop, I would be able to walk past the room without even feeling a sliver of pity or guilt.

But I’m not a cop.

So that means that I’m still human.

I haven’t been trained to be impervious to the guilty.

I thought I was, but clearly, I’m not.

******

Officer Johnson sends me the audio file of Oliver’s interrogation.

I put on my headphones, and press play.

“State your name and age for the record,” Johnson’s gruff voice says.

“Oliver Mendoza. I’m seventeen.”

“On the twentieth of December at two minutes past midnight, Damian White was found dead on the Rovian Bridge. You, Oliver Mendoza, called the police and was found at the crime scene with Damian’s blood on your hands. Do you agree with the events that I have just stated?”

“Yes sir, I do,” Oliver says, a hint of nervousness detectable in his voice.

“Son, what was your relationship with Damian?”

“There wasn’t any.”

“What did you think of him then?”

“I hated the guy. Overly cocky, always drunk or on drugs of some sort. All the girls love – loved him though.”

“Did you have a personal enmity with him?”

“I –”

He pauses.

“You want some water?”

A gulp.

“Oliver, did you have a personal enmity with Damian?”

“He raped my girlfriend.”

“And your girlfriend is?”

He clearly hesitates.

“It’s okay son, nothing’s going to happen to her. We just want to know her name.”

“Pen – Penelope Dawson.”

“Penelope is Robert Dawson’s daughter, yes?”

“Yes sir, the same.”

“Did you call her after finding Damian there?”

“No, I didn’t. She wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“I’ll get straight to the point then, son. Did you or did you not kill Damian White?”

Another pause.

“Oliver.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I did.”

******

“Damian White was found dead at twelve-oh-two on Friday, the twentieth of December on the Rovian Bridge.”

I wince after saying this.

“Oliver Mendoza was found with Damian’s blood on his hands at the crime scene, having called the police.”

“Mendoza has confessed to killing White, his motive being that his girlfriend Penelope Dawson had been sexually assaulted by White.”

“I got to hand it to the kid, he sure is protective of his girlfriend.”

“I don’t however think that killing is the way to go about it.”

“Maybe if she had reported the assault…”

The officers talk amongst each other, while I sit down on the chair.

Oliver confessed.

This is a closed case in the eyes of the cops, and they’re just waiting for White’s autopsy to come through to indeed confirm that Oliver had hit him on the back of the head and had knocked him out.

I almost get a head rush when I suddenly stand up.

The room goes quiet.

“Johnson. The murder weapon. Where is it?”

“Oliver said that he got so scared after killing him that he threw the weapon in a nearby bush.”

“Did you find it?”

“No sir, we didn’t.”

“Then this case isn’t closed yet.”

“But sir, Oliver had the motive, he was at the crime scene with the victim’s blood on his hands. Most importantly, he has confessed to murdering Damian.”

“That isn’t enough. Find the weapon. Until we can trace the entire incident from start to finish with no loopholes, this case is very much still open.”

I move to leave the room but then remember.

“Also, Officer, bring in Penelope Dawson.”

******

This time, I sit in the interrogation room with Johnson as he talks to Penelope.

“Where were you that night?”

“At home.”

“Anyone to vouch for that?”

“Oliver himself. We went on a date that evening. He dropped me off at my house.”

“When did you find out about the crime?”

“That same night, at around twelve. My parents told me when it came on the news.”

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about this and you don’t need to answer if you’re not comfortable. But this will really help your boyfriend get some heat off him. Penelope, did Damian White sexually assault you?”

She pushes her jet-black hair out of her eyes, and I see they’re bloodshot.

Picking up the glass of water in front of her, she gulps it up nervously.

“Yes, he – he raped me.”

“When?”

“Does it matter?” she lashes out.

“He violated me. He forced himself on me. He didn’t care whether I wanted to. He didn’t care if I had a boyfriend. He only cared about his own pleasure. I don’t see why him being dead is such a bad thing. He’s a criminal. And criminals deserve to die.”

She takes another sip.

Johnson and I look at each other, shocked.

Penelope seemed unfazed, almost happy that Damian was dead.

It makes sense, but you would think that she would be a little more shaken up.

But she seems fine.

“Your boyfriend has confessed to murdering him. Anything you would like to say about that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Oliver never lies.”

******

“We found the murder weapon sir.”

“You did?”

“Yes sir, it was in the backyard of Oliver’s house.”

I purse my lips.

“Check for fingerprints.”

“Yes sir, we did.”

“Whose was it?”

“Oliver.”

That’s it.

I can’t fight for this boy anymore.

“Send an arrest warrant.”

******

That young boy is going to jail.

I feel sorry for that poor girl.

Her unfazed nature during the interrogation still bugged me.

Something about it seemed off.

Suddenly, something she said comes to mind.

“That same night, at around twelve. My parents told me when it came on the news.”

“No, I didn’t. She wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“Oliver’s and an unidentifiable one…”

Her calm face. Her bloodshot eyes.

Almost as if she had swallowed her alibi.

I call up Johnson, and he answers, sounding like he just woke up.

“Yes sir.”

“Johnson. White’s murder happened at around midnight. Correct?”

“Yes sir, twelve-oh-two.”

“When approximately did the news stations pick up on the news?”

“The first report came at around six.”

“Sir?”

“Never mind. One more thing, you have accessed Oliver’s phone records, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“You can confirm that Oliver didn’t call his girlfriend that night, right?”

“Affirmative sir.”

“Johnson.”

“Sir?”

“Check the murder weapon again for fingerprints. I think you’ll find someone else’s also on it.”

“Yes sir, we did. It didn’t seem important to mention, but there were other fingerprints too, but they were too faded to trace.”

“Try it again. You’ll find that it matches the real murderer’s fingerprints.”

“What sir?”

“Oliver is innocent.”

“The real murderer was ready to put the blame on someone else. Oliver would go to any lengths to protect the people he loves. She knew about his death before anyone else did, even though he didn't tell her. And she seemed too calm for a girl whose rapist had just died.”

“You mean that…”

“Yes, Johnson. Penelope did it.”

******