Seven days ago, 21th of August 2016.
"Why can't it continue? Are you guys going to close the case?" I asked in front of five top police officers. They looked at me and sat there as if they had given up on my pleas.
"Listen, Raka. I understand you care about your clients, even without us telling you to do a great job. Your job is to protect the citizens and identify the perpetrator who abused the victim. You are the best we have in this city."
"But-"
"But you still have to accept the fact that has happened."
I was surprised when he cut me off.
"The forensic team and the inafis team have investigated the crime scene. They reported that there was no one there except the victim named Jamila Armstrong. They didn't find a single sign that Jamilla had been murdered. Also, several detectives couldn't find anyone who had entered Jamilla Armstrong's residence. They have seen CCTV installed around Jamilla Armstrong's house and the streets inside and outside the housing."
They have done their job right; I know that. They won't do anything wrong in the investigation; I know that. They must have looked at every corner of the crime scene properly so that nothing was left; I knew that too. But still, this feels weird to me. How could the girl I had raised choose to die by suicide?
What's more, that letter from her… didn't look like it was from her. It's kind of like she was forced to write that. This is weird.
"We only found three pieces of evidence; letters, the kitchen knife she used to stab herself in the stomach, and her fingerprints all over the house," He continued.
"You have to give up, Mr. Raka," A woman said. "Besides, it's not your fault. Why do you feel guilty for her death? Don't you always accept when someone commits suicide?"
How can I accept that? She is my niece, my eldest brother's daughter. How could I accept her death when I knew she would never do something so stupid?
I smiled sinisterly and lowered my head as I said that in my mind.
"Or maybe..."
A man who had a bald head had gotten their attention. They immediately looked at him when he wanted to speak, including me.
"You have a relationship with her?"
They fell silent and immediately looked at me. The center of attention seemed to have changed rapidly.
"Are you related to her?" He asked again, looking like he wanted to confirm that.
"Hahaha, that's impossible," A man said, cutting off the question directed at me. "They both have different names. They are not blood-related. Raka grew up in an orphanage, and the girl lived with her father. So it's impossible."
He is Octo, one of the top five police officers in the city. He had dedicated his life only to side with the truth. Even if he looks like a nerdy older man, he is a great person and thinker.
"Wait a minute, Mr. Octo. What if she is his girlfriend?"
"Hahaha, are you joking, Miss Erina? Their ages are far apart, so it's impossible."
"Oh, you're right. Mr. Raka can't be a pedophile. Sorry for my thoughts, Mr. Raka. I didn't mean to bring down your pride. I was thinking about the things that could happen."
She apologized to me for what she had said.
She is Miss Elina. She was two years younger than me, but she reached the highest among the police officers thanks to her father's reputation and performance. She has proven that a young woman can be there. However, I hate her. She always makes the impossible possible. She has a much higher mind, almost not even reaching the point of human logical thinking, even like a kid who is good at imagining.
"What do you think, Mr. Raka? You're not a pedophile, are you?"
The bald man named Ibuki confirmed the question to me. I think he is too ambitious in his question.
"Come on, stop that! You guys have too much trouble with that girl. After all, we can see that the two of them have different names, and their ages are far apart. So how could they possibly have a relationship?"
He was Henry, one of the top police officers in the city. When I see his face, I sometimes feel scared. Maybe because his face was scary and he had a strong aura of intimidation, some policemen and even me were afraid of him. Even so, he was a good high-ranking officer. It was he who made me a detective.
"You're right, Mr. Henry. I don't think he has anything to do with her."
The one who said it was Fadh. He just became one of the top police officers one year ago. But, he had done a very good job as the top police officer in this city. His connections to society, the police, and even the military police have made him famous. He is the only top police officer in this city with the best reputation, even being able to beat Erina, who is the daughter of the police chief.
I chose to be silent, looked down, and played with my nails a few times. I liked that because I was bothered by the question.
Time seemed to stop for a few seconds because of this feeling. The question they gave disappeared in this room. They forgot about it and packed each other's things. They seemed to want to end this meeting.
Octo stood up from his chair, and the sound of his chair was very clear to my ears.
"Wait...!"
Since I was sure they would leave the room, thinking this meeting was pointless, I stood up from my chair and told them to stop there.
"What's the matter now? Isn't it over, right? Everything is clear. We already told you that her death was a suicide," Octo said, looking at me in doubt.
"That's right, Mr. Raka. Do you know about mental illness? That's what happened to that poor girl: she decided to end her life. It's a shame she doesn't get the attention of her family, friends, relatives," Ibuki said, looking as if he knew the teenage girl's condition.
"Is there no other way to keep the case going? I'm very willing to be assigned to the case. I'm very ready if you-"
"Mr. Raka..."
Henry cut me off, causing me to pause and stare at him limply. He almost hit the table before him but chose to stand there.
"Why do you care so much about that teenage girl? You're not a member of her family, relatives, friends, brother, or anything like that. You are not related to her, but you…"
I was just silent, listening and watching him angry with me. I could even lower my head and let them out of the room.
What's unrelated? She is the niece that I raised. She is the only family I have. So what's unrelated to it? It's useless. If I tell you that, you won't believe it and think I'm making it up. You can only conclude when there is evidence. It's useless.
The difference between my real family and my current family is the surname I use. My stepfather's name is Armstong, as well as Yuda and his daughter, while I use the name White. That way, anyone who knew it would still think it was different. So, it's useless to tell them that Jamilla is my niece.
***
Today...
A man is looking in the mirror, looking at his sad face. He saw his black hair that had bangs a bit messy from just waking up, some stains stuck to his face, and he slightly lifted his lips. That man is me, Raka White.
"If I had accepted that time. If I weren't selfish. If I didn't read the message. If I hadn't thought of my mother and father, who had thrown me into an orphanage. If I would use that name, I could live as Raka Armstrong, not as Raka White."
There is regret in my heart. I feel empty. My heart feels empty over the deaths of important people in my life. I'm so empty.
I glanced down right. On top of the sink, I saw a small medicine box.
"There is no other choice but this. I must take advantage of this to find out why my niece died."
I took the medicine box and opened it. Then, I remembered how that person gave it to me. That happened six days ago, one day after that pointless meeting with them.