Detective Kola stood staring at the bloodstained carpet, hands trembling. The victim lay lifeless, a world-renowned journalist who had been investigating government corruption. She was in her own pool of blood, in her apartment, with a bullet lodged deep into her chest. Kola had solved a dozen cases yet this one appeared different.
It was a riddle that was eating him up, and he planned on going to any length to unravel it. The crime scene was all too neat and tidy; the murder was too clinical, a professional no doubt. Luckily he had a lead, a witness who had seen a black SUV take off like the wind; that must have been, before he could do something, calling him in to see his officer.
"Drop it," the commissioner warned, eyes cold. "It's bigger than you."
Kola was disappointed, he had joined the force to help get justice for people, but in those years, he had witnessed how officers were silenced, how cases were buried, but he still got up and kept fighting.
That night, he found himself sitting in his office with the file clenched in his hand, he could move forward and risk his career, risk his life, or he could walk away like the rest.
But he has lost confidence in the whole system and therefore chose to walk away.
With a deep breath, and a scowl on his face, he tore up the file, trashing it on his way out.
Thank you for reading.
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