Josephine, Age 11, Gatesville, TX
Hi, I’m Jewel Blason, Detective. My latest case has been the death of Mary Wichester, and the disappearance of her son Blake, on Monday, April 13, 2013. Though I am working her case, it is my top priority to find her son, because he may still be alive. But I can only believe because he is dead until proven alive. Here are my original notes from when I first surveyed the scene. I observed: Red carpet, and a corner couch, which I believe to be the murder weapon. Also, one female victim, face down in cross position.
When I dusted for prints, I found, understandably, near thirty print sets belonging to the victim, and almost the same number belonging to the missing son. I also found hair on the couch, which after close inspection proved to be cat hair, so I can only estimate that the suspect fled the scene with the unidentified feline.
The next day I ran the cat hair through what we at the lab call “kitty codis” and found that the cat is a tabby named Rudy. Her owner’s name is Jennifer Alex Robinson. So I saw fit to go to my friend at county to get a search order.
“All right, you can have your warrant, but I want to see all other possible suspects. Pictures, med records, the works, on my desk pronto.” So I agreed and told her I would find out as much as I could. That night I stayed up till three searching for relatives and found some very interesting stuff. Miss Robinson is the victim’s niece.
So on Thursday a lady came in claiming that her name was Robinson. I was astounded; I mean how often does the suspect just walk into your hands with no searching or chasing? Perfect…too perfect.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I heard my aunt was dead,” she answered in a stone cold voice.
“I wanted to give you a valuable piece of info. This!” She yelled as she whipped out a 22 pistol and shot my left arm. Luckily, I’m right handed, so I drew my 45, took aim, and shot her to the ground. I just grazed her leg, but that can hurt really badly, and unfortunately I speak from experience.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said. “You would kill your own aunt for money?”
“She promised me everything,” she replied in a longing voice. “She wanted to give me the world, then she had her stupid son, Blake, and she decided that she would just give everything to him.”
“I’m sorry, but I need a confession.”
“Well I hate to disappoint,” her voice was calm again, though it sounded like metal on a chalkboard. “But I didn’t kill her, I wanted to see her. I wanted to see it with these eyes, not through a camera on a television screen. Don’t get me wrong, I would have loved to kill her myself, but Sandra beat me to her.”
“Sandra Crammer. She’s the only one that has the guts to do what’s right. No doubt I would have wimped out.”
“Can you tell me where to find her?” She told me, so I went to Sandra’s house, only to find her passed out on the couch, Rudy the cat at her feet. When I got her to the station downtown, she admitted to everything, although I’m still having trouble believing it. She gave me one address. “Why are you giving me this?” I asked her.
“You can figure that out for yourself, smarty.” So on that note I left. I went to the address she had given me, went around back and found a shed. At any moment I expected to hear gunfire from inside, but it never came. When I opened the door, I saw a small, but human, figure in the corner.
“Yes,” said a shaky voice.
“You are safe now. My name is Jewel, and I’m here to help.”
When I showed Sandra to Blake, he identified her. Then she asked me a question.
“How did you get to my name?”
I just told her…luck. I’m Irish.
This page was last updated on December 02, 2012 by the KIWW Webmaster.