EYE OF JUSTICE

This is his seventh year on the Job and he hasn't seen anything like this, John stood still, carefully examining the photos taken earlier at the crime scene, with the help of his colleagues he tries to piece the puzzle together.

"what's more intriguing is how he delivers a cut- yet leaves no trace of blood" 

"He? I mean, aren't you jumping into conclusions?" 

"Have a look, there is almost no sign of struggling, only a person with great strength would hold his victims down long enough to deliver such precise chop to the neck." John argued.

None of the victims' bodies has been recovered yet, and he doesn't think it was possible until the 'Butcher' is apprehended. What could his motives be? a question left unanswered. He takes a closer look at the decapitated heads lying breathless on the slab; each has its left eye ruptured intentionally. 

"I know that every serial killer has their signature, mostly left on their victims or at the crime scene. The bodies are gone and the heads tell a different story. What story could this be telling?"  He heaved a deep sigh, stepped outside, and then back inside, as though he was missing something.

"An eye for an eye," he muttered, eyes narrowing.

"This is a revenge killing, something that has cost the killer an eye", he announced to the team.

"But we know that at least one out of five residents of this town has an eye defect or the other, ever since the coal mine was established." a team member added.

"Yes, good observation. All the victims are females, this we know. He may have lost his eye during a fight or by accident; in either case, our suspect is blind in one eye."

Then suddenly he paused, like he'd seen a ghost, then dashed into the hallway and ran a few yards into the busy street, armed with handcuffs. Then he approached with ease.

"Madam, good evening!" he greeted.

"Customer, you are here. Welcome. Which one should I package for you today?" she asked, thrusting the wood into the fiery coal to increase airflow while smiling at him.

"Today, I want something different. Do you have chicken heads? I used to eat them when I was a little boy; my father said that was the reason I topped my class," he asked, adding a little story.

"Oh, sorry, I don't sell that," she responded rather nonchalantly.

"Madam, why...?" he asked with a blank stare.

"Excuse me? What kind of question is that? Are you buying or not? I have other things to do," she sharply retorted, looking agitated.

"Madam, I'm Detective John by the way," he informed, flashing his silver badge for her notice. "Where are the heads of these chickens you sell?"

"I don't like chicken heads; you know they pick up a lot of dirt, so I give them to the dogs that passes by. I don't have to sell them, and, besides, it is my business, and I decide what I want to sell," she answered, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

"I see, it is unlikely that an ambitious businesswoman -as you appear to be, would exclude such a tasty mix from your stand in this competitive environment."

"Are you accusing me of something?"  She snapped.

"I think it's odd. I have surveyed every meat and barbecue stand in this town, and yours alone does not sell chicken heads. It's suspicious."

"Like I said earlier, I do not like chicken heads." She reiterated

"Why?" he pressed. "Why the dislike?" 

She paused for a moment. "It's none of your business." 

"Let me tell you a little story. For the past three weeks, thirteen fowls have been reportedly missing. At first, we thought a beast was responsible, but seeing their heads chopped off at the place from which they were stolen, we were wrong. But who could eat all that? Unless it is not eaten alone. Maybe, here they are, on your table. Why did you do all this?" 

"I did not want to do it; I was forced to!" she yelled, slamming her hands on the bench repeatedly.

"As a young girl," she continued, "I loved little birds. My neighbor bought a hen, a local breed, and after a while, it had these little chicks that followed it around. I thought they were cute, so I grabbed one. The mother immediately chased me and flew onto my face as I tried to drop the chick gently. I didn't want it to get hurt," she sobbed. "But I got hurt instead. I thought it would go, but over time this hurt grew deeper. Some mates at school would bully me, calling me 'the one-eyed girl.' No guy could date me even when I tried to be nicer. The day I got broken was when my stepmother sewed me an eye patch during her wedding to my father. And that was when I ran to this town to find peace. That fear was rekindled when I noticed a lot of fowls in the area..."

"Yes, locals breed fowls in the third quarter to sell them before Christmas. It makes it cheaper than any time later than that" He interrupted.

"I just wanted to protect the children I see playing around, what if what happened to me happens to them? Their lives would be ruined, forever." She said, still sobbing.

"Whatever your reasons are, they still do not serve as a justification for your actions. Here in Loka, fowls are to us just as cattle are to the Fulanis. You deprived many of their livelihoods, their source of income and most importantly you violated these animals. What is your name?

"Evelyne. My name is Evelyne."

"Miss Evelyne, you are hereby under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...", he handcuffed and whisked her away while reading the Miranda warning.

Success N.✍️