Writing Prompt

Leaning back in his chair, spine straight and shoulders pulled back, Rowan shifted his right wrist gently in the restraints, never quite getting used to being handcuffed.

The trial had a slow but predictable start. The arresting officer damning in his testimony and while Rowan’d been prepped and knew it was a painful spectacle, particularly as he knew what the consequences were.

The pangs of helplessness kept hitting his core and it took every muscle to stop himself collapsing. He hardened his demeanour as he waited for his lawyer to join him in the consultation room. Rowen was agitated though. There seemed to be lots of conferring between his attorney and the firm’s paralegals. His sister had hired a top tier firm with little more assurance than what she felt in her heart was her brother’s innocence.After all, the evidence was damming.

The only DNA evidence at the scene of the crime was his and the single person seen at the scene after the murder was him. How he wished there was another witness. Rowan had broken into Sally Hanson’s house after he saw her being slapped repeatedly by an unknown figure in her bedroom. He hadn’t see his face as he was made privy to the assault from across the road. Fixing up a wardrobe for a job on Task Rabbit, he saw the assailant’s hand repeatedly strike her down.

Why didn’t he just call the cops, had been the question hurled at him by apprehending officers. Rowan couldn’t answer that, all he knew was he felt the instinct to just react, flying down the stairs and across the road he opened her unlocked door before pounding up the stairs to find Hansen lying on the floor clutching the stab wounds in her stomach barely able to croak out her last words.

“Hold on, just hold on,” pleaded Rowan as he took over stemming the blood flow. He mentally searched for the whereabouts of his phone but felt Sally’s grip tighten before releasing completely.

“Ma’am, ma’am!” He called. As a furrow of sadness started encroaching on Rowan’s brow, he for this stranger he had no knowledge or thought was abruptly interrupted, as a tall, gangly teenage boy entered the room.

“Mom!”

“Sorry about the wait Rowan,” said Matt Mitchell, Rowan’s lawyer deftly entered the room disrupting the arrestee’s thoughts back to the day he do wished he could take back.

Pulling out a chair and tucking himself in under the table as smoothly as he entered the room, Mitchell leaned in close to his client, elbows on the table, looked into his eyes in earnest.

“Rowan, this is important. Have you been 100% honest with me?” Asked Mitchell, quickly reaffirming, “this is all under client attorney privilege.”

“Mitch,” began Rowan, “where is this all coming from?”

Mitchell leaned back, pausing five seconds before answering, “it seems there is an eye witness after all,” said Mitchell, “and he says - that whole story with the mystery hitter - it never happened.”

2330 A small space craft crash landed in Ellswood Park

Residents saw a bright green flash, followed by a loud bang from the direction of the park. Several people went outside to investigate.

A few people reported seeing a woman in her 30s walking her dog out of the park gates moments after the crash.

0945 The woman has been identified by several neighbours as Ilene Shepherd. She was brought into the station for questioning at 0800 this morning, and claims to have no knowledge of the crash.

“I went out to walk my dog at about half ten last night, I couldn’t sleep and he was a bit restless. We went round the park a few times and then came home.”

When questioned about the space craft she said she hadn’t seen or heard anything strange, and seemed to find the questions amusing. When questioned again she was surprised at the mention of a space craft - as though she had forgotten our earlier conversations.

1100 We have been observing Ms Shepherd for an hour, she seems to be suffering from some sort of memory loss. She repeatedly asks what the weather is like, and repeats the phrase “Ooh Holly loves the sunshine!”

We asked her more questions about the crash, and she seemed surprised once more at the mention of a space craft. There is nothing to suggest she is faking the memory loss, we have called for a medical expert.

1430 Doctor O’Hara examined Ms Shepherd and has asked for her to be removed to the hospital. He believes she may be suffering from trauma related amnesia. We started to fill out the paperwork but Ms Shepherd’s dog - who Inspector Newton was keeping in his office - bolted when he opened the door, ran around the precinct, and escaped into the street. We sent some of the younger lads after it, but it set the precinct in chaos for a bit.

Although we believed she was not dangerous, Ms Shepherd was inconsolable when she discovered what happened and attacked Dr Ohara, breaking his nose and rendering him rather dazed. Her transfer has been delayed until an ambulance arrives with a new escort.

1600 Ms Shepherd has been transferred. We still haven’t found the dog. In fact, we’ve had at least four reports of missing and escaped dogs in the past few hours.

He felt the another pressence on the poker table,watching,feeling the drafts of air as the unseen stranger is moving around the table,”everyone looked nervous”he said with a blank stare as a he reaches a flask from his coat and taking a long swig from it,seeing his reflection in the flask and fixing his hair in it,”its like they were all feeling a stare heavy like lead directed at them,like an animal ready to attack its pray,Gino was the one with the winning hand and it was that way all night,hes ussualy one of the unluckiest”as he looks around the destroyed bar and the poker table,wich was broken in half by using his head,wich is now a puddle of blood on the floor slowly creeping up to the exit,like its trying to escape,”Still slippery as allways i see” “I think you had ol’ Lady Luck on your side today old friend,but she gave u a rotten luck mate”

“The only eyewitness said he didn’t actually see it happen. He was in his apartment when it happened, but he could hear the screaming and yelling and banging from his living room, given that it shared a wall with the apartment next door. According to him, it sounded either like very enthusiastic sex or a very violent fight. He thought he heard two voices but said they were rather similar so it might have just been one person.” Porter flipped his notebook closed and looked at his partner. “Jack, I’m not sure we can trust the word of a drunken slob who was already wrecked at 10 in the morning – his testimony will mean nothing. Then again, nothing will mean anything if we can’t even find a suspect.” Lacey stopped walking, having arrived outside the apartment. Porter looked at her, keen enthusiasm in his eyes. “We’ve not even seen the crime scene yet, I’m sure we’ll find something. It doesn’t exactly sound like a clever murderer, given that he or she was heard arguing with the victim.” “Porter, we don’t even know if it was the victim, stop speculating. It just makes you sound like a dumbass.” Flashing her badge to the officer standing outside and slipping on a pair of gloves, she pushes open the door to a team of investigators. The living room she finds herself in is small, almost claustrophobically so. There are four doors in the room, all of the doors are open, barring the front door. One leads to the kitchen, which appears to have been searched – all the drawers are pulled out, and the contents of the cupboards are all over the floor, another to the bathroom, and the final to the bedroom. There is a single window, smashed, that leads out onto the fire escape. There’s a single loveseat in almost the dead centre of the room, pointed directly at the flat screen TV on the wall. Each surface in the room was cluttered with sentimental knick-knacks – plenty of photos and souvenirs from what appeared to be a very well-travelled woman. The rug on the floor, likely once white, was stained crimson from the victim’s blood. Lacey made her way over the victim and removed the sheet. He was completely unidentifiable – his face was fully caved in from his hairline to his lower jaw. Looking lower, Lacey saw what appeared to be around twenty stab wounds littering his torso. She took a quick glance around the room and didn’t notice a weapon of any kind, blunt or sharp. Beckoning one of the many investigators around the room, she asked if any identification had been found. Before the investigator could answer, Porter chimed in. “No ID has been found on him – he didn’t have anything in his pockets, no wallet or anything. Before you got here, I asked the owner of the building who lived in this apartment, and he said it was a woman, a Miss Irene Gleen.“