Nothing To Lose

by Steven Suttie

  “Bloody hell. That’s pretty selfless of the press office!” Rudovsky was stunned by the flamboyant language used in the press statement. MCP weren’t known for such flowery apologies.

  “Miller’s written that. I can tell.”

  “Well, it’s good news for Tim and Charlotte I guess. But it makes us look like dicks.”

  “Who cares? It doesn’t matter really, does it? As long as they don’t get any come-backs. It’s a pretty unforgettable crime to be implicated in. No, I think it’s a great press release. Let’s go and show Tim and Charlotte.”

  *****

  Miller was at HQ, working with “the geeks” as they were affectionately known, although the official title of their department was the “AFR Technology Team.” They’d earned their nicknames due to their consistent enthusiasm for their work, and because they were, without any shadow of a doubt, the biggest dorks in the city of Manchester.

  AFR is a relatively new and emerging technology which has been carefully developed by the US Government since the 1980s. Today, many British police forces are signing up to the technology as the benefits of the system have been hard to resist. In essence, AFR or Automatic Facial Recognition software is a revolutionary new biometric system which scans the police service’s database of hundreds of thousands of police “mug-shot” pictures for possible matches to CCTV or photographic images in order to hopefully identify a person in a CCTV clip, just from their police mug-shot.

  The technology has an unrivalled success rate and is regarded as yet another technological breakthrough which will eventually make the streets much safer. The only technical requirement that AFR needs is clear, good quality footage, so it relies heavily on decent CCTV systems as it cannot read the data of older, grainier systems.

  The consistent arguments against the fact that there are not enough police officers on the streets, is countered quite passionately by those who understand the extraordinary power of modern technology in assisting with and solving criminal investigation cases.

  And today, AFR was wowing DCI Miller, as he watched first-hand how it all works. The geeks were running the McDonald’s CCTV footage through their software, and the facial recognition software was naming the people in the clip. People who weren’t even part of the investigation into the four men in question were suddenly getting a red frame around their faces on the computer, followed by an information card on that “suspect.” Basically, if a person had ever had their photo taken by the police, this technology worked in much the same way as a finger-print record does in identifying them.

  One of the geeks was explaining it all to Miller as the DCI watched on in awe of the “AFR Locate” system, which was still relatively new to MCP, and was Miller’s first “live” encounter with it. “You see, bone structure, facial features, hair, ears, neck and skull circumference, they all make each person completely unique, just like their DNA does. What this little baby does is analyse the data from every measurement on the face and skull and works through all of the possible matches on the database, scanning a hundred thousand faces per minute! It’s totally awesome!”

  There could be no criticism of the geek’s enthusiasm for the computer system. But Miller wasn’t here to buy it, he wanted to know if any matches had come up.

  “Yeah, it’s great, absolutely. But have we got anything?”

  “I’m just printing out a report for you now, Sir. I think you’re going to be very happy!”

  *****

  Miller was happy. All four of the men had previous. The AFR confirmed that Wilson was definitely one of the men in McDonalds that night, but that wasn’t really an earth-shattering revelation. His registration plate’s details on the ANPR had already placed him there, and it was just a matter of hours before his bank confirmed the McDonalds transaction. So, he was goosed.

  The three men seen with Wilson had all been spoken to by the police before, numerous times. Their names and last-known addresses were on the piece of paper in Miller’s hand. The best news of all was that they were all local, so this could, in theory at least, all be sorted out by home-time today. That would be an excellent conclusion to an extremely distressing case, which twenty-four hours ago looked nigh-on impossible to figure out.

  Miller’s plan now was to round the three individuals up. With Wilson safely locked up, and the information being public, Miller felt safe in the knowledge that they’d be ringing and texting one another non-stop to find out if they’d been sussed, or grassed on, or even better still, writing incriminating text messages to one another trying to offer reassurance that they were going to be okay. If this was the case, and Miller felt sure that it would be, then this current “down-time” was yet another fantastic evidence gathering opportunity and would prove invaluable when their phones were seized. There was no mad panic to start kicking doors in just yet as far as Miller was concerned. The longer these men had to stew, the bigger the hole they were likely to dig for themselves.

  The crucial thing now was trying to place these men at the scene of the crime. There was plenty of anecdotal evidence which suggested that Wilson had a reason to start the fire. There was also plenty of proof that he was out and about in the Tameside community with three other men, before and after the fire. In short, there was lots of circumstantial evidence but nothing in terms of rock-solid physical evidence that placed any of the four individuals at the address, pouring petrol through the letterbox. This was now Miller’s number one priority. He thought back to the CCTV of the four men walking up Windmill Lane and considered whether this was enough to bring a water-tight prosecution. He decided to review the grainy footage from the nearby factory which had been the only line of enquiry in the hours following the tragedy. Miller had been so sure that the peculiar walk of one of the individuals would eventually become a part of his evidence and had decided not to release it to the press. He wanted to look at the clip again.

  Miller loaded the footage on his screen and began watching it through. He was instantly reminded of the casual, almost comical way that the men walked. An early theory had been that they were older, and possibly drunks heading home from a lock-in at the nearby working-men’s club. Miller scrutinised the short section of film and analysed each of the men’s physical profiles. He began making notes on his pad, referring to the individuals as numbers 1-4, from left-to right on the screen.

  Number one was a little taller than the others. He was quite slim and had noticeably big feet. There was no clue as to his facial details as his hood was up. His clothes were generic, dark jeans and a hoody.

  Number two was the slowest walker, he looked quite small, certainly fat and he appeared to walk with a limp. It wasn’t a fully pronounced limp, but there was certainly some sort of an issue with the way he walked and Miller considered that he might have some kind of a back-related problem. Again, the clothes were very nondescript and gave nothing away and his hood covered any clues as to facial details.

  Number three was the sprightliest of the gang. He was also quite short, a similar height to number two. He was walking faster, then stopping for the others to catch up, before stopping once again. He would burst into a bit of a jog, before berating the others to keep up with him. It was quite clear to Miller that this man was likely to be younger and judging by his behaviour, was experiencing the most amount of fear from the event which had just taken place. Miller had the feeling that this man was possibly the son of one of the men, his whole gait was different.

  Number four was an interesting character. Out of the three, he looked the most drooped and least enthusiastic. This man was by far the fattest and without question the physically un-fittest. There were no other clues about him, the clothing, the hoody, there was nothing of note other than the fact that he looked like he wanted a lie-down.

  Miller was hopeful that the physical attributes of the people in this video would convert perfectly when he met the three individuals in the coming hours. Presently, this bizarre CCTV footage of the four men was all he had that placed
them close to the crime scene and he needed to make a plan of how he was going to match all this up.

  Lee Riley’s Story - Part Three

  Nobody had seen or heard from Lee Riley for two days. His girlfriend, Olivia was being comforted by her family at the home that the couple shared. The hours were passing by very slowly, and despite everybody’s best efforts, her parents, her siblings, friends and neighbours, it was proving impossible to provide any form of comfort to Olivia. This usually beautiful young woman was lost. She looked ill and desperate.

  Lee’s elder sister, Joanna was finding this even harder to cope with than Olivia. Widely acknowledged as the go-to person in a crisis, everybody in the family, and the wider circle of family friends gravitated towards Joanna for the latest news or to offer help. She felt that it was her duty to remain strong and positive, but Lee’s disappearance was made all the harder for Joanna, because she was pretty sure that she knew exactly why Lee had disappeared and for what purpose. Due to the circumstances, Joanna didn’t feel able to share this information with anybody. But, being a naturally optimistic and positive person, she wasn’t prepared to confront any dark thoughts just yet.

  The police had been good. Not brilliant, it had to be said. But it was understandable that the West Yorkshire force hadn’t dredged the rivers, organised land searches and sent the helicopter up looking for Lee. After all, the missing man was a very able-bodied, strong, fit, well liked and respected builder. This was not a case of a six-year-old girl going missing and the reaction to the situation was in proportion to the circumstances, as the police officers kept repeating.

  West Yorkshire police had released a recent photograph of Lee, in the form of a missing person’s poster. The police were extremely cautious about releasing such details in the case of a 28-year-old man going missing, because usually, it was simply a case of free-will. Thousands of men, and women, take themselves off for a few days at a time, particularly in times of stress or worry. Almost ten times out of ten, they turn up with a sheepish expression and an awkward explanation a few days later. However, due to the nature of Lee’s disappearance, and his usually reliable and dependable nature, the police officers decided to release a mis-per announcement, regardless of what damage this could potentially have on his personal and his business reputations.

  The police officers who were looking after this missing person’s report were based at Halifax, about ten miles away from Hebden Bridge. Lee had been reported missing the previous day, twenty-four hours after he was last seen, or was last known to be in contact with anybody. The last person that he had contacted was Olivia, his long-term girlfriend. He had sent her a very vague but troubling text message which had filled her with terror. It read;

  “So sorry Liv. I love you so much.”

  His phone had been switched off just after it had been sent and Olivia had tried over three hundred times to ring him since. She was 100% confident that Lee’s phone had not been switched back on, purely due to the amount of times that she had tried, and it had not connected.

  Despite the public appeal, the police had very little to go on. All they had were four lines of enquiry. The first was the troubling text message to his partner, the details of which had been kept secret from the public. The second notable line of enquiry was the discovery of Lee’s van, which was parked up on the pay and display in Todmorden town centre, the parking ticket he’d purchased was only for one hour. There was CCTV footage of him inside the BetPower betting shop on Rochdale Road, where he was seen leaving in a very troubled-looking state at 13.41. The parking ticket for his van was due to expire at 14.04, but there was no evidence of him going back to his van. The final line of enquiry came in the form of several witness statements which had been phoned in to the police, following their public appeal for information. The callers had phoned to say that they had seen Lee earlier that day, running along the canal towards Hebden Bridge, or running away from Hebden Bridge towards Todmorden. In almost all of the calls, Lee was described as happy, friendly and even “bubbly.” One of the callers described Lee as “manic,” going on to explain that the missing man seemed over-friendly and a little unhinged during the brief encounter.

  A strange picture was emerging. Instead of going to work on the day that he went missing, Lee had instead driven his van to Tod, then ran back along the canal to Hebden, and then ran back to Tod. This amounted to a ten-mile run. Following this run, he had driven his van from a lay-by on the outskirts of Todmorden to the town centre, before parking it up and going into a bookies. There was no record of Lee making a transaction at the bookies, and the CCTV showed that he walked in, sat on a stool for fifteen minutes, and then left again, looking extremely agitated as he went. He turned right as he left the bookies, a detail which attracted a lot of attention because his van had been parked in the opposite direction. The investigating officers were considering all of these details and were being led to the conclusion that the explanation for Lee’s disappearance was consistent with a significant mental health crisis.

  The police had to be open and honest with Olivia. As the time went on and their investigations presented more details, the mood of the police officers was becoming colder. Where it had all started two days earlier with “don’t worry” and “try to stay calm” the words of the police were now much more controlled. They were now saying things like “that is a major line of enquiry” and “we are looking into that.” Something had changed, and Olivia was acutely aware of it. Despite the officers earlier attempts at putting her mind at ease, she was now resigning herself to the thought that when the news finally came, it was going to be the worst possible, most unimaginable kind of news.

  Joanna was in a state. She felt that this was all her fault, that if she hadn’t given Lee that money, he wouldn’t have done whatever it was that he had done. Her mind was filled with regret, guilt and an overwhelming sense of grief. She couldn’t get the images of her brother, crying in his van as he told her all about his problems three days earlier, out of her head. The hardest thing was that she couldn’t tell anybody. All she wanted to do was break her silence, explain to Olivia, and to everybody, what had been going on in Lee’s life in the days leading up to his disappearance. She also wanted to cleanse her own conscience regarding the money that she had sent to his bank account. But as each hour had passed, as each conversation about Lee had been concluded with “it’s just not like him,” she felt that it was now impossible to say anything. The guilt generated by her own deceit on top of everything else was really weighing her down. It was becoming intolerable.

  It came as something of a relief when the police officers knocked on Joanna’s door and asked in soft, gentle voices, if they could speak with her. She had dreaded, but anticipated this conversation for the past twenty-four hours. Now, it seemed that it was finally time to face up to the darkest of all possibilities.

  “Hello Joanna. We need to speak to you.”

  “Yes, sure. Come in.” Joanna was visibly trembling, her teeth were chattering together as the two uniformed police officers entered her modest terraced house. Joanna’s husband, Tony, had a real panic building up. He sensed that this was bad news, and he also had serious concerns for the state of his wife. She was in a bad way, mentally, emotionally and physically.

  “Kids, go and play in your rooms please,” said Tony as he opened the front-room door. Ellie and Ben did as they were asked quietly and respectfully, where normally there would be a five-minute debate ending with a door being slammed. Despite their youth, they knew that things were very serious.

  “Sit yourselves down,” said Tony to the two officers.

  Joanna sat down on the arm-chair by the gas fire. Tony stood behind the chair. He decided to prompt the conversation that he sensed nobody wanted to start.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  The older of the two police constables leant forward slightly. “No. Nothing new has come to light, I’m afraid. However, there has been a development, which we need to make some furthe
r enquiries about.”

  Joanna needed this over and done with, she needed this information to come out. She had internalised a million arguments with herself over the decision to keep it a secret from her family, from Liv, and most importantly, the police. She sounded frightened as she spoke. “Is this about the money?”

  The two constables glanced briefly at one another. The half-second interaction between them told Joanna everything she needed to know. It was about that.

  “Can I talk about this at the station?”

  This question threw the police officers. “What, well…”

  “I need to talk in private about it.”

  Tony looked puzzled. “What’s all this about?” he asked.

  Finally, despite her best efforts not to, Joanna broke down. The pressure had been building and building within her since the moment Liv had first phoned her, telling her about that distressing text message. The emotional turmoil had been developing relentlessly since that moment, over 48 hours earlier. And now, the dam had finally burst.

  “Love, what’s up?” asked Tony as he kneeled on the rug before his wife. But Joanna was a wreck, she couldn’t speak as the huge wave of emotion came crashing over her.

  “Love?”

  “It’s… me… it’s… my, my… fault…”

  There was now no need to speak in private at the police station. Joanna had done the hardest part, she’d got past those first few difficult words. Words that she felt had now opened the floodgates to allow a full, honest and frank discussion about Lee’s frame-of-mind the day before he disappeared. She felt wretched, and stupid for keeping it all back, but she knew that her reasons had been honourable. She’d wanted to protect Lee’s reputation with his nearest and dearest, at first thinking he’ll turn up and explain all to Liv after a few hours. And, naturally, from a selfish point of view, she wouldn’t have to confess to giving every penny she and Tony possessed to Lee, which it looked like he’d gambled away within a couple of hours.