never less the crime

November 16, 2011
By Witzman BRONZE, Houston, Texas
Witzman BRONZE, Houston, Texas
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"i am not the messenger i am the message"

It’s a cold windy and snowy day. Sometimes I wish I didn’t live in Chicago. You may be wondering who I am? Well I am a special agent for the F.B.I. The name’s Torissa Martinez, and my partner Esteban Torres. Last but not least our secretary Jeremy Torres. Some people call me sculls because I wear a hat with a skull on it. Esteban is just plain and normal. Jeremy well he likes to put his hair in a Mohawk. Anyway, it’s Friday afternoon. I’m getting ready to leave my office, when Jeremy walks in. He has a distasteful look like when someone tries Brussels sprouts for the first time. He said I had a call. I picked up the phone thinking it was my husband Robert. It wasn’t Robert. It’s Jonathan Castillo and his roommate Nathan Moore. They say a guy named Alex Berkhane just got shot by a guy named Jose Rubio. Jeremy and I rush down there as fast as we can, but we were too late. When we got there, Jonathan, Nathan, and Alex were dead.
“two shots to the head each” said Jeremy. I took a phone out of Jonathon’s pocket. Right before he got shot he had called a girl named Cynthia. I called her using my phone I told her the bad news. She cried. Hard. I knew I had to find the killer now. Nothing will stop me, Even if it kills me.
“Got any idea that it might be?” asked Jeremy.
“I’m guessing José Rubio!” I said.
“How do you know it might be him? It could be someone else” said Jeremy.
“Before Jonathon died he said José shot Alex Berkhane.” I said
There was a long silence. To distract myself I looked through Jonathon’s phone again. I seemed to miss that there was another call before Cynthia a person named Angle. I called her and asked her a few questions. I couldn’t tell her the bad news not after the first call. Instead I told her survey and made up some fake company. We called the forensic team to pick up the bodies. BAM! BAM! BAM! Three loud gun shots sang above the clouds. Jeremy and I ran to the scene.
“It’s José!” yelled Jeremy.
“Okay I’ll make a distraction while you take him down.”
As I ran out, José pointed the gun at me. I was as scared as a small child that just lost their mother. Right then and there Jeremy tackles him. I run over to arrest José. We took him to the office to ask him some questions.

“Why did kill them? What they didn’t give you a piece of gum in class?” I yelled
“Clam down he’s just in middle school.” Jeremy Said. Jose started to cry
“Alright I killed them. I’m sorry I killed them.” José yelled.
“Why’d you kill them?” I asked
“They kept making fun of me” cried José
We took José to the juvenile center he got sentenced for five years. A week later Jeremy got an award and promoted to be in the F.B.I. Esteban missed everything he was very disappointed. Once again its almost safe her in Chicago.

The author's comments:
my 7th grade teacher inspired me

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