Narrated by Detective Rick
I've worked on cases where blood splattered like abstract art across white walls, where husbands swore they loved their wives right before putting bullets through their skulls, and where entire families disappeared overnight.
But nothing never prepared me for Alia's.
They found her hanging from an oak tree on the edge of town.
Not just hanging. Her skin had been peeled off with surgical precision, draped below her like a discarded coat.
Her face was still intact. Her eyes, open.
Watching.
I don't believe in ghosts, but that night, I swore her eyes were following me as we cut her down.
The mayor wanted answers, and fast.
The press was already circling like vultures.
But the more I looked into Alia, the more I realized this case wasn't going to be solved with fingerprints and forensics.
Alia had four friends. Four shadows that are always with her.
And one of them might the murderer.
Or maybe none of them were.
Or maybe all of them were.
This is the story of how I tried to outsmart them.
And maybe how they outsmarted me.
**********
The Four
Dave. Karen. Kumba. Erick.
That was the circle.
Alia was the sun, they were the planets.
Each one orbiting her, each one depending on her light.
Until someone decided to extinguish it.
Dave was the first I brought in.
********
Dave
He sat across from me in the interrogation room, legs spread wide, arms crossed, wearing a cocky grin like he was on a date.
"You think I killed Alia, Detective?" he asked, voice smooth as honey.
I didn't answer.
I slid a photo across the table instead — Alia hanging on that tree.
For the first time, his grin faltered.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "She didn't deserve that."
"You sound sure," I said. "Most people hesitate. Say something like, 'nobody deserves that.' But you went straight to her. She didn't deserve it. Why so specific?"
Dave leaned back,his smirk creeping back.
"Because Alia was special. She made everyone feel like they mattered. Karen, Kumba, Erick — they all needed her. Hell, I needed her. She wasn't just… some girl. She was the type you'd burn for."
"Burn?" I raised an eyebrow.
Dave shrugged. "Figure of speech."
But it stuck with me.
Dave talked a lot but said very little.
He flirted with his words, like every sentence was a performance.
He wanted me to see him as arrogant, careless, maybe even reckless.
But under that mask, I could smell obsession.
I let him go, for now.
*********
Karen
Karen came next. Neat. Controlled. Not a strand of hair out of place.
She folded her hands in her lap, eyes downcast, voice barely above a whisper.
"She was my best friend," Karen said. "She… she was everything."
"You mean she was everything to you," I corrected.
Karen's eyes flicked up. Sharp. Cold. "Is there a difference?"
I leaned forward. "Where were you the night she died?"
"Home," she said, too quickly.
"Alone?" I asked.
Another flicker in her eyes. "Yes."
Karen was lying. I could tell.
She wanted to come across as the grieving best friend, but her control was too tight.
Too calculated.
When I asked her about Dave, she scoffed.
"He worshipped her. Like some pathetic dog. She toyed with him, the way she toyed with all of us. You think he'd hurt her? Maybe. But only if she told him to."
That chilled me.
Karen wasn't crying. She wasn't breaking down. She was angry.
And anger leaves stains deeper than blood.
I sighed and looked at her hands, i saw scratches on her wrist.
"what happened to your wrist?" i asked.
She flinched and immediately covered it with her sleeve, "it was my cat"
But the scratches were too deep to be done by a cat.
*********
Kumba
Kumba was different. She didn't sit in the chair like the others.
She slouched, restless, fingers tapping against the metal table.
She kept asking for water, then barely sipping it.
When I slid Alia's photo across, she pushed it away, muttering something in her native tongue.
"You were close with her," I said.
"No," Kumba snapped, too fast. "Not close. She was… too much. Too bright. You ever meet someone who makes you feel small, Detective? That was Alia."
"Did you want to be like her?" I asked.
She looked up sharply. "No. I wanted to be free of her."
There it was. The truth under the panic.
Kumba was afraid of Alia.
Afraid of how she could twist people.
Afraid of how much power she had just by walking into a room.
But fear… fear cuts both ways.
Sometimes it chains you.
Sometimes it makes you lash out.
*********
Erick
Finally, Erick.
Quiet Erick.
He sat down and said nothing for ten minutes straight.
Just stared at me. Stared through me.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. Almost gentle.
"You won't find the killer," Erick said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because she killed herself the day she decided to be who she was."
I raised an eyebrow, "what did you say?"
He smiled, " what i just said"
I frowned. "She was murdered."
Erick tilted his head. "Was she? Or did she play with too many hearts, too many minds, until one of us snapped? Isn't that suicide, in a way? To burn so brightly that you invite your own destruction?"
I didn't like Erick.
Not because he scared me, but because he sounded too much like me.
Detached. Analytical. Watching the pieces move instead of moving them.
When I asked where he was that night, he smiled. "Where I always am. Watching."
********
The Games
The more I pressed, the more tangled the web became.
Dave swore Karen was jealous of Alia.
Karen insisted Dave was obsessed.
Kumba claimed Erick was "not right in the head," and Erick just smiled and said they were all liars.
Each one pointing the finger at the other.
Each one feeding me fragments of truth wrapped in lies.
But there were details.
Small things they slipped.
Dave's burn comment.
Karen's alibi that didn't exist.
Kumba's fear disguised as resentment.
Erick's philosophy that sounded like a confession.
Who was lying more convincingly?
Who was telling the truth without meaning to?
It became less about finding the murderer and more about surviving the mental war they waged against me.
Every interrogation was a chess match.
Every word a pawn.
Every pause a trap.
*********
The Hidden Clues
I started going back through their testimonies, comparing notes.
Dave said Alia "made everyone feel like they mattered".
But Karen said Alia "toyed with all of us."
That contradiction was telling.
Was Alia kind, or manipulative? Or both?
Karen said she was home alone the night of the murder.
Yet Erick mentioned casually that "Karen doesn't sleep well when it rains".
And it rained that night.
How would he know that if she was home alone?
Kumba said she wanted to be free of Alia.
But then I found a photo on her phone — Alia at a party, her arm around her, her smile the biggest I'd ever seen.
Fear, or love turned bitter?
And Erick… Erick was the worst.
He said he was "watching."
Always watching.
But his shoes, when I looked closer, had mud caked on them.
Mud from the woods where we found Alia.
Coincidence? Or a breadcrumb?
The deeper I dug, the less I found.
Or maybe I found too much.
*************
The Breaking Point
Two weeks in, I cracked.
I brought them all together in one room.
Dave leaning back, smirking.
Karen stiff, cold.
Kumba restless.
Erick silent.
I threw the photo of Alia on the table.
"One of you did this," I said. "One of you peeled her like an animal and hung her like a trophy. And I swear, before this is over, I'll know which one."
Dave laughed. "Maybe it wasn't us, Detective. Maybe it was you. You seem obsessed enough."
Karen sneered. "Typical man. Wants to play hero. You don't care about Alia. You care about solving your puzzle."
Kumba slammed her fist down. "Stop it! Stop talking about her like she's a riddle! She was real! She was alive!"
Erick finally looked up. Smiled. "See? She's still playing with us. Even now. Even in death."
And I realized… they were right.
She was still controlling the room.
Still pulling strings.
Even in death, Alia was the one in power.
********
The Ending
The case closed without a conviction.
Not enough evidence. Too many contradictions.
Officially, Alia's murderer was "unknown."
But there were clues.
Dave's obsession.
Karen's jealousy.
Kumba's fear.
Erick's philosophy.
Maybe one of them killed her.
Maybe all of them did.
Maybe she killed herself, in a way, by pulling their strings until one snapped.
Or maybe… she's still out there, laughing.
*******
Epilogue
I keep her photo on my desk.
Not the crime scene one. A normal one. Her smiling.
Every time I look at it, I ask myself the same question:
Did I fail to solve the case because they outsmarted me?
Or because Alia wanted it that way?
********
And that, reader, is the end of my report.
The case of Alia remains unsolved.
But the pieces are all here.
You decide who killed her.
Or if she killed herself.
Or if the game was never about her death, but about how far we'll go to make sense of something senseless.
Stream Commentary; Tape #43. "Who Killed Alia?"
(Kai leans forward in the shadows, his goggled eyes unreadable, lips curling in that faint mocking grin)
"So, Alia hangs on the tree.
Her skin stripped like paper, her story left in pieces.
Detective Rick gave us the facts, he dragged out the testimonies… but no answers.
Convenient, isn't it?
That's where you come in, my jury.
Who killed Alia?"
[@Ovesix: It was Dave. Listen carefully — his alibi was too clean, too rehearsed. Every detective knows the most polished story is the one worth tearing apart. He was covering up. Notice how he over-explained things and left only small details and avoided emotions when speaking of Alia's death. Classic deflection]
[@Jaija: No, no, no! It's Karen. She was jealous. Didn't you hear the way she snapped whenever Alia's name was mentioned? The envy was practically dripping. People kill for smaller things. And remember the way she described Alia's smile? It wasn't admiration… it was bitterness]
[@642: No, no… listen deeper. The murderer is Kumba. Her silence screams louder than Karen's jealousy or Dave's lies. She barely spoke. And when she did, she stumbled: 'I don't remember where I was… maybe sleeping… maybe reading… I don't know.' Forgetting the night your friend died? Absurd! She also looked at the tree where Alia was found… too long. Almost lovingly. Like she wanted to admire her work. Quiet killers… they savor in silence]
[@Enchomay: Perhaps you are all blind. It is Erick. His words… too heavy with sorrow and riddles. Not genuine sorrow, but the kind people craft when they want to be seen as innocent. He manipulated Detective Rick with riddles. That's the cruelest mask of all]
[@Jaija: Heck no, i still stand on Karen, Did you see her eyes when she spoke about Alia's popularity? Jealousy dripping like poison. She said: 'Alia always had a way of making people notice her.' That wasn't admiration. That was resentment. And remember the scratches on her wrist? She claimed it was from her cat. Hah! Convenient excuse. The wound was too deep, too sharp. Claw marks don't slice like that. Maybe it wasn't her cat. Maybe it was Alia fighting back]
[@642: you're wrong again, little chick, wrong. The shy and restless ones always rot the deepest. She said almost nothing… but restlessness can be louder than screams. And didn't she 'forget' what she was doing the night Alia died? Forget? Oh, that's delicious. Only guilt makes the mind stutter]
[@Ovesix: no, am sure it was Dave, remember if an obsessed person couldn't get what they want, then no one would have it. He looked too calm and carefree for a guy who just lost "the one that made him matter]
[@Enchomay: no…Erick seemed to know something the rest don't, Erick is the hidden puppeteer]
Back and forth, they hammer at each other like lawyers before a ghostly court.
Each theory valid.
Each detail convincing.
Then finally all at once, towards Kai.
[All of them: Kai, tell us, who was it?]
The silence drags.
Kai leans back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
(low, mocking)
"Ah. You still believe I'll give you the answer?
How human of you.
You crave closure, a neat little ribbon on a corpse.
But life doesn't work that way, does it?
Sometimes the guilty walk free.
Sometimes the innocent rot behind bars.
And sometimes…"
(he tilts his head toward the camera)
sometimes the killer is sitting right beside you, smiling."
(Silence)
(He smiles)
"Moral of this story, Truth bends. Lies sharpen.
And the dead? They're just pieces in the games of the living"
So be careful, reader… next time you hear a story like this, ask yourself not just who killed Alia… but who benefits from her death."
(whispering)
"And now, my jury… my audience…my readers.. I ask you.
Who do you believe murdered Alia?"
"and don't forget,when you play jury, you also play executioner.
And one mistake…"
(he chuckles darkly)
one mistake can kill the wrong soul."
(He laughs)
"But don't worry. We'll have another trial soon.
The next case waits in the dark.
The one I call… 'The Man with No Blood.'
(The screen cracks with static. Just before the feed cuts, Kai whispers):
"so let me ask you one last time, who killed Alia?
Was it Dave, Karen, Kumba… or Erick?
Or do you see another hand in the shadows?"
STREAM ENDED