Diary of a Detective

Dear Diary, May 25th, 2007

Mom always told me to forgive, even when it was hard. This time though, I couldn't.

The year was 1995, Mother got hit by a car and was sent to the hospital. My family could barely pay the bills, let alone stand watching her slowly losing the light in her eyes. We all wanted to see her last, but without the right treatment, nothing could get done. Soon after her accident, she passed. A few years ended up passing without much news from the police on the case. It was a hit and run in a desolate area, so there were no witnesses. I was turning 18, and it happened that my birthday was the day before mom's accident. My siblings and dad forgot about it, since they tended to avoid anything that was close to mothers’ death. I on the other hand, was buried in reports and clues that might lead to the culprit of mother’s death. Every day felt closer to the truth, and I hoped that after these seven years, I would uncover the truth.

It was around five thirty pm when father got a call. It was a week before my birthday, and the police finally happened to end the case. They reported that since they had no information, they couldn't hold onto this case any longer. Figuring this out was heartbreaking. They were giving up, only after seven years. I ended up staying up all night, working on a case everyone else gave up on. I wasn't going to let mother's life end this way. Not without the correct closure.

On the 18th of May, my birthday, I finally solved the case. It turned out that our neighbor, Mr. Fredrick, happened to be going out for a stroll when he witnessed the accident. I was only able to get this information because I would work on the case at his house. Father wasn't a big fan of him, but he was a kind older gentleman. He lost his family many years ago to HIV, which spread through his family, and since then he's lived alone. I only really got to know him because mother used to have tea every Saturday at his house, and I carried that after she passed. On the 18th, we were drinking tea, when suddenly he brought up that on the night of mother's accident, he saw a red SUV driving past. No one usually drove through this neighborhood, but when they did, we could easily recognize whose car it was. The reason this one stood out was because no one who lived here owned a red car. The excitement that ran through my veins was electrifying. I was doing it. Gaining more information than I ever thought I would.

Once I got home that night, I checked every number in the phone book, calling the ones I didn't recognize, and asking about the cars they owned. Around seven the next morning, someone reported a neighbor having a red SUV. I quickly left home, hopped on my bike, and rode to the neighborhood I scribbled down. I brought my polaroid camera, and when I made it to the house, I snapped a photo of their car. I then quickly made it back home, before rushing over to Mr. Fredricks to show him the photo. He confirmed my suspicion, and right then I knew, mother’s death would be brought to justice.

The next few weeks I spent hours putting together all my evidence. I took old news articles, recent events brought to light, and memories of what mother told me after her accident. It was tough figuring out what was needed, what the police wouldn't have already. I managed to scrap a few of her belongings as well, that I stole from behind fathers back. I knew he would grow angry if he found out, but I knew what I had to do. I went back to the neighborhood where I found the car, and took more photos. I went to the nearby neighbors and collected statements that they would trust more with me than the police. I spend countless hours upon hours, writing and reading. And soon, it was time.

On the 7th of June, I made my way to the station. It was a cloudy day, the weather seeming to know how I was feeling. The nerves in my stomach almost made me sick, but I fought through them. Once I arrived, I asked for the name of the police that was on the case all those years ago. The lady at the front desk shot me a strange look, but I ignored it. I was here for one reason, and I wasn't going to back down.

Once I was finally able to secure a meeting, my nerves came back. I remember walking into the office, scared out of my mind. This was actually happening. I was going to bring justice to my mother. The conversation was short, especially when I brought up my reason for being there. The officer kicked me out after I gave him all the evidence, and I had to convince the lady at the desk to get him to read it. All that was left was to wait.

A few weeks after I sent my evidence to the police, I checked out the news and there, they reported a hit and run on May 19th, 1995. I felt my heart race as they went over the story, and how an unknown source sent in the evidence they were missing. My father, even though the case was solved, still avoided everything to do with mother, but it didn’t phase me anymore. I was finally relieved of my burden to let go of mother’s pain and the mystery of her death.

Ever since that day, I've dreamt of becoming an investigator. And today, I finally graduated top of my class. Father came to my graduation and congratulated me, but it didn't feel as good as seeing Mr. Fredricks, the man who gave me all my courage, bring me flowers for succeeding. He was more like a father to me, and I was happy to finally show him that his efforts paid off.

Now I can help others who lost those and bring their stories to justice.

Signed,

Mary Franklins.