what would you do next?

This was a process report I did for school. I took out some of the process part and left it with this.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO NEXT

You’re driving home to see your parents, after being in college for two years. You’ve been taking courses in Criminal Justice; working towards an eventual job as a Detective. You try to imagine the look on your mom’s face as you walk into the house, and the excitement she’ll express. And then she’ll spit clean any dirt her over judging eyes find; but that’s a mother for you. The silence in the car is broken by the sound of a familiar quote being played by your favorite actor. You pick up the phone to see the caller id showing the name of your best friend since childhood. Learning from your parents you were coming home; they want you to stop by and talk about how things have changed. They never could understand why you wanted to go to college to work for the police. So when you told him you were going to do it; a rift formed between you that you were never sure would heal.

The neighborhood looks almost the same as you left it; albeit, some new cars sitting outside the neighbor’s houses. You pull up to the house you’ve lived at, for the majority of your life. But as you gaze up to look at it, you notice something’s not right. The door’s partially open, dad would never allow that. Doing something like that would raise the electric bill. The porch light being on, in the early afternoon, tells you that something’s not right.

You cautiously walk up the door; there’s a slight tinge in the back of your neck. Nervousness is creeping up on you; even when, you try to calm yourself down. Everything’s alright, it’s just the wind the pushed the door open like that. The lights, well dad might of forgot to turn them off. As you rest your hand on the door ready to push it further into the unknown situation; your thoughts are still racing with possibilities. Lying on the floor is your father; he’s clutching his blood soaked chest in agony. His eyes show a baffling look to them, that you’re not quite sure why. There’s a pounding going on inside the house, which you quickly realize to be your own heart. You kneel down and check his neck for a pulse, but nothing stirs your fingers sensation. It’s a lie it must be, so you look for a second opinion. Reaching down you grab his wrist, as the nurse would do for your checkups. The message comes in clear now, you were hoping for the lie and not the truth. Mom, where is she? You step over your father and run through the house, looking for her. A hand is placed over your mouth, as you snuff out a scream that would break every window in the house. Your mother is sitting at the dinner table, as if she was waiting for someone. Her skin has grown white from the life that has drained from her body. Now the ground is shaking, an earthquake, why now? Only to look and see it’s your own body that’s doing it. You close your eyes and try to imagine something happy in your life, a pleasant picture of your family. You don’t want to open them and realize what truly is waiting for you. But you must, you have something important to do. Fighting back tears and frustrations is just a small step to what has to happen next.

Grabbing your cell phone, from your pocket, you call the police. Giving them all the information you can, you do not want to lead them to think of you as a suspect. After you click the phone closed, anger grips your mind. You want to find out who did this first, before they even arrive. But you compose yourself as you’ve been instructed in class. First thing you need to do is examine the area for an overall feel of the crime scene. You head back to where you found your dad, and look him over. His eyes lead you to believe he was stunned by what happened. It’s like he wasn’t expecting this attack to happen. Maybe he knew the person who did this, so he felt no reason to guard himself. That’s when he was caught off guard by the attacker. He’s clutching his chest would signify that the attacker used a knife as his weapon of choice. The attacker probably covered your dad’s mouth, to keep him from alerting your mother of what’s going on. Scanning around your dad you notice a footprint in the blood soaked floor, that’s pointing to the outside. You double back at the direction of the footprint. Taking a looking outside you knew you were right about not seeing any footprints on the porch. Did they take off their shoe?

Checking your father over, you notice his wallet laying across his leg. You curse the fact you missed it before; then you curse the fact it matches your fathers jeans. Taking a closer look at it, you see a twenty lurking it’s corner of the wallet. You were thinking robbery, but now you’re beginning to wonder. Turning around you look at the door that leads to the kitchen and dining room. On your way to the door you notice a crumpled up piece of paper that is poorly trying to hide itself, from your vigilant sight. Kneeling down to get a better look at it you notice it’s a gum wrapper. Both of your parents forbid the use of chewing gum in the house. So that eliminates them from being the gums owner. Your mind scans for a list of people that might of done this, you’re not sure why you are doing it. These are just stray thoughts running through your head. You don’t have enough clues to even think of anyone yet.
Getting to the dining room you scan the area over. Nothing seems misplaced, the food was set on the table to prepare for dinner. Three plates rest on the table, ready to have servings of food placed on them. Your mother was still sitting down when the attacker came in, so she wasn’t surprised by them. The attack had to come quickly so she couldn’t react in time. You pause for a moment and look at her. Tears start forming from your eyes; you want so much for this not to have happened. The question that’s still booming throughout your head is, why. Shaking your head you come back to reality, but the imaginary one seems more relaxing at this point. Quickly it kicks in that both of your parents knew this person, and must have trusted them enough to allow this to happen.

Your eyes widen as you focus on the middle of the table. Rushing to the spot you found the gum you take another look at it. You know this type of gum, someone from your past has chewed it before. Pulses in your brain being to blink as information is twisted and torn apart. You start to replay the scene in your head, following behind the killer as they perform the incident. Watching them cover the mouth of your dad when he answers the door. Keeping him from screaming to alert your mother, they lay him down and place his wallet on the leg to make it look like a robbery. Then the killer calmly walks to the dining room, your mother is probably a little surprised by the visit, or that your father wasn’t there with them. That’s when they pull the gun out and shoot her. You think of why they would eat the gum in the house, so you take another look at the dinner table and notice a piece of bread tore in half. Probably wore gloves, but this leads you to add that scene to the movie in your head.

Trying to continue with the scene, you’re interrupted by a noise coming from outside the door. It’s the police calling to you. Soon the place is filled with them, taking pictures and marking areas off. One of them takes you to the living room to talk about what you’ve seen. As you tell him the details you seem to skip over certain details that might help them find out who it was. You’re withholding evidence now, this is definitely not what they taught you in class. But you know how long it would take them to compile all the information they’ve gathered and get around to questioning suspects.

You yourself have worked the clues over in your head. You seen them for what they truly are, answers. Not to the answer that’s been brewing In you head since you came upon this. But the answer, to who did this crime to your family. Now you will go and confront them to ask the why. Falling to your knees you let the grief claim you, as it always wanted to do. The cops don’t know how to comfort you the way you want to be. They leave you to your grief, as it’s weight crushes you to the ground. Pools of water form on the ground, created by your own eyes. Snapping your head up, you realize you need something before you are suppose to leave the house.
You pull up to their house. Normally you couldn’t enter the house without an arrest warrant. But you don’t care about those things at this present moment. You remember playing here for hours on end, with your best friend. Staying out late in the back yard, under the stars you both stood as one. The why is pounding harder in your head, it feels like it will burst out soon. Patting the front of your pants and the new bulge that appears on your shirt, you get out of the car. You should feel lucky that you remembered where dad hid it. Yet the feeling it brings isn’t one of security, but rage. They wait for you as you stroll up to their room. You’ve walked these stairs many times; you can see the wear from your childhood steps on them. Opening the door, they sit there smiling as a puppy would to greet their master. You produce your dad’s gun from your pants; your knuckles bleed as you grip down hard on the handle of it. Asking them the question that’s been there the whole time; “Why did you do this to me?” They cock their head back with a devious grin, and replay “whatever are you talking about?”

You go on to explain the clues you’ve found to them. The fact neither of your parents showed signs of a fight, as they knew who the attacker was. A wallet laid out on your dad’s leg with money still in it, just threw you off of it being a robbery. The gum that was the only kind you remember your best friend chewing. The fact a third plate was set at the dinner table. Finally it was the phone call that threw everything together. Your friend was expected to dinner, and he knew you were going to be coming home the next day and find out what happened. They set it all up for you to find. You give your friend and odd look as they claps their hands together, smiling a wicked grin.

“Bravo, you figured it out my little detective. I’m so proud of you,” they calmly says. You shake the gun as you ask again, “Why?” They sit forward give you a hard stare, that makes you think they’re looking through you, “You know exactly why”. You stop to think about it, but can not think of any reason why. They give a grumpy sigh in frustration, “It’s because you left for that school of yours”. You take a step back in shock. “Yes, that’s why I did it. My so called best friend, up and leaves me to be a cop, a dirty cop. But that’s okay now because you’re back, and we can be friends again.” You fall to one knee grabbing your forehead in pain. Thinking how insane he is for killing your family over something like that.

“I see that gun trembling in your hand, your hand is red with anticipation. What will you do?” You place a finger over the trigger of the gun. You process the meaning of justice over, and over in your head as they wait for you to respond. You’ve studied for years in college, but were never prepared for this. Your duty is to turn him over to the authorities to deal with them. It’s what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life. But there’s a calming voice in your head now, as you look at the gun. It’s telling you the answers are inside of it, if only you would press the level to open its door. You think, but what comes next is only the beginning to something else.