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The Case of Detective Roger Brown

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There are several reasons why I am telling you this story. Perhaps it is the urge to entertain. Perhaps it has some special significance in the world, and I am expecting you to carry this story on to the people of the outside world. Then again, it just might be that this story holds importance to you and only you, and perhaps it would be in everyone’s best interest to keep it completely to yourself. But it’s not my job to understand why. That would be your job. We start this case where any good detective starts: The scene of the crime. So strap in and open your mind, as we dive into the murder case I know: my own. The case of the murder of Detective Roger Brown:
Who would have ever thought? The most important night of my life and I can only remember two things: The beautiful dame in my office, and the beautiful sandwich on my desk. The sandwich was a beautiful crescent filled with succulent bacon, juicy tomato and crisp lettuce (I have a weakness for BLTs). This light brown bombshell was hand crafted and delivered (indirectly, as it were) by the one and only William Hill of Bill’s Sandwich Hill. The dame was named Sylvia Marie Brown, and had obviously had some sort of trouble that she needed dealt with, and was attracted by the office door. “Roger Brown, detective and Private Eye” it read. As she described her case with all too vivid detail, I realized the old case that had been dug up again. I took a bite of the sandwich in front of me, and a giant gulp of the wine offered to me by Mrs. Sylvia Cruise and settled in. the last thing I remember from that night (or any night) is a very sour taste in my mouth.
There are three major suspects in this murder. The first would be the likes of Mrs. Sylvia Marie Cruise. She had come into my office that fateful night because she had a suspected stalker. This we both knew to be her ex-husband, Mr. Nicholas Cruise, who I had caught in a fowl play murder case. If you remember, I called you on this case when I was at a brick wall, and you provided the endless wisdom to get me out. That case was my toughest in the courtroom, as I only had little more than half the jury-and half the courtroom- that he was guilty. It took all the evidence I had (or didn’t have, as the case may be, but who’s paying attention? Besides, it was your idea). Sylvia had found it a struggle to raise 2 kids and stay true to a jailed husband, and so they separated. She had been living well, with a new husband, and another child on the way, when she received a love letter in the mail. She immediately recognized the writing, and her heart raced. “How did he find me?” but that was not important. What was important was the safety of her children and her new life (although she had loved Nick and believed in his innocence, she knew that jail had made him mentally unstable). After several moves and several more letters, she had nowhere to turn but to the person she held responsible for this entire disruption, Detective Roger Brown. Before hand she stopped at the corner store and picked up the one thing she buys everyone she hires: a bottle of red sanguine.
The second suspect is my good friend and client, the owner of Bill’s Sandwich Hill. It kills me to put him on this list, but a good detective never rules out anyone.
His Father was a member of the Mafia, and I helped to make a few skeletons disappear out of his closets, -- By the way, Id like to thank you again for your infinite wisdom on this case-- and in exchange, he gave me two free BLTs every week. However, to his ignorance, I found a better deal with the police in the form of a $500,000 reward and my badge. So I said hey, why not take both, right? He has wondered to this day who was the culprit behind putting his father in jail, and I pray he never does. In any case, that night he was delivering my sandwich when he ran into trouble so his assistant, at least I presume it was his assistant, delivered it for him. However it got delivered to me was not important, what was important that night was that it got delivered into my mouth with 100 % satisfaction.

So now that I have given you the background of the scene and all the suspects, it is time for a deep analysis. We need to examine the facts, connect, the dots, and ask questions! That is the most important part, you know, asking questions. A great man once said that asking a question is the best thing you can do. He was right. He also told me there are no wrong questions, only wrong answers. It is the opposite here. There are no wrong answers, only missing pieces, And there are only wrong questions, and one right question. This question is the only way to the missing pieces. You will find those later, but for now all I will tell you is if you have asked the right question. We begin now.*

You, my friend, have asked the right question. And I am embarrassed, especially in the presence of such a great detective. How could I make a foolish mistake like that? The only explanation, my dear friend, is because I didn’t. There IS one more suspect, one more key suspect. It is you, my dear friend and mentor. Why are you on the list? You weren’t anywhere near the crime scene! You had no clear motive! Or did you? It may not have been written down, or factual, but that has never stopped you before. Don’t you remember what you told me on the topic of true and false? That as long as you’re a good writer, anything can hold up in court. That’s what you said when I talked with you about Mr. Cruise’s case. I asked if I had a good argument, and if it would sway the jury. You said I’ll have to look over the case. So, in my infinite ignorance I handed over all the evidence in the case. Even the letters he had written on the ship to his wife before he was framed! I knew that, and you knew that. But neither of us could admit we were wrong. It was after that court case you realized biggest mistake, wasn’t it? Me! You had turned me into a monster, someone who would cheat steal and betray just for a pretty penny and BLT.
It was then that you realized the only way out of this without admitting your mistake. You had to destroy me! But it had to be quiet, and have 2 clear suspects to take the blame completely away from you. First suspect: Mrs. Sylvia Cruise. You sent her those letters, knowing she would come straight to me. You also knew she brought everyone who she hired red Sanguine from the corner store right next to our building. But, just as you suspected, she would see a way out of going into my office. She saw your office, which was right across the hall. When you poured the glasses for each of you, you slipped a sleeping tablet in the bottle. Shortly after drinking this glass, you promptly sent her to me.
Second suspect: Mr. William Hill. As he walked down the street to deliver my Thursday BLT, he ran into a large man who pushed him clear into the street. The man then proceeded to pose as his “assistant” delivering a new BLT with a new ingredient: High Level Poison! But this event was no accident, for this man was none than your new pupil! The sleeping pill disguised my death as a sleep, and the poison put me away. So first you ruined my life and my career by way of your corrupting teachings. Then you ruined all of these innocent people’s lives simply because you can’t admit a mistake. You may have escaped the police and the law, but you will not escape me and you will not escape yourself. Whether you decide to tell people this tale is your choice. But it was meant to be told, and people will hear it because they are meant to hear it. You are done controlling lives.





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