UTube

by Rozlan Mohd Noor

  “Yes, and the college reimbursed her for the loss. I bought her a new one in August last year.”

  “Datuk, I’m sorry about the miscommunication with my OCCI, and I wish to inform you that Massayu is in no way involved with the case we are investigating. Thank you, Datuk.”

  Replacing the phone, she sighs and wonders how the OCCI could have misunderstood the Datuk’s call. There was no reason for the director general to lie to her. What was the OCCI’s motive for misrepresenting him? Apart from making an excuse to take Mislan off the case, she can’t think of any. She brushes aside the thought, deciding to deal with it only if and when it arises.

  Mislan and Johan enter the task force room, finding Sherry, Deena, and the techie Saifuddin huddled over a monitor.

  “Come and read this,” Sherry calls out to him.

  “It’ll be much easier if you print it,” Mislan suggests.

  Saifuddin sends the article to the printer, and Deena hands it to Mislan.

  It’s a story from The Malaysian Insider dated March 21, 2012, headlined BN Lawmaker Moots Gay Rehab Center. BN stands for Barisan Nasional, the ruling coalition party. It reads:

  The government needs to create a “homosexual rehabilitation center” to combat the phenomenon in Malaysia, according to a Barisan Nasional MP who today claimed 30 percent of Malaysian men were gay. According to a Bernama Online report, Datuk Baharum Mohamad (BN Sekijang) said in Parliament today that this was to aid those with homosexual tendencies or engaged in same-sex relationships to stop such behavior.

  Farther down, the article continues: “The lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender community is increasingly viewed as morally deviant and targeted for its nonheterosexual orientation.”

  “So?” Mislan asks.

  “Read the last paragraph,” Sherry says.

  Mislan reads the last paragraph and says, “The Seksualiti Merdeka was last year.”

  Seksualiti Merdeka, or Sexuality Rights festival, is an annual event held in Kuala Lumpur featuring talks, forums, workshops, and art, theater and so on, organized by a coalition of Malaysian NGOs, artists, and individuals. It was first organized in 2008 and attracted nationwide protests from Malay/Muslim communities. In 2011, the police banned the event, and the High Court upheld the ban.

  “I mean the part about a bureau chief at Utusan Malaysia attacking the Bar Council for its ‘support’ of homosexuality among Malaysians, calling it part of a ‘deviant wave’ fast gaining acceptance throughout the world.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re getting at,” Mislan says.

  “I’m saying it may be worth spending some time on that angle.”

  “You’re the lead, whatever you say, ma’am,” Mislan mocks.

  Deena steps to the whiteboard and writes “Lesbian” below the photos of both the victims.

  Johan tells her to change it to “gay” and gets a raised-eyebrow look from her.

  “Johan isn’t wrong,” Sherry tells Deena, “but rub it off. I don’t want that to be displayed up there.”

  Superintendent Samsiah and Superintendent Lillian appear in the doorway, catching them by surprise.

  “Nice,” Samsiah says. “I have always wanted my officers to be organized like this.”

  “Thank you.” Sherry beams and introduces Saifuddin as the IT Forensic tech.

  “Nice to meet you,” Samsiah says, walking to the whiteboard.

  “Have you found the connection between them?”

  “Only that they’re both lesbian.”

  “Hmmm. A coincidence?”

  “Could be.”

  “Check out the gay clubs, find out if they frequented any or hung out together. If they did, that could be the lead you’re looking for.”

  Mislan hands his boss the printout.

  “What is it?”

  “News article, Sai found it. Read it and tell us what you think?”

  Samsiah reads it, and passes it to Lillian.

  “I’d say, stupidity fueled by self-righteous ignorance.”

  “I second that,” Lillian agrees.

  27

  MISLAN WATCHES THE VIDEOS of the two rapes for the third time. Like his assistant, he cannot stomach watching them. The fear on the victims’ faces is like nothing he has seen before. What kind of a human does that to another? He lights a cigarette and stops the video. He also now understands why Sherry was very protective of her victims and respects her for it.

  “You want to view the CCTV recording from the college?” Johan asks from his desk.

  Mislan is deep in thought and doesn’t respond.

  “Boss, you OK?”

  “Eh?”

  “I asked if you’d like to view the CCTV recording from KLCAC.”

  “Sorry, I thought you were talking on the phone. Yes, bring it over.”

  “Why are you smoking in the office? Ma’am’s still in here, you know.”

  “I am?” he says, looking at his hand holding the cigarette, as if he is not aware of his actions.

  Mislan slots the DVD into his computer and runs it. A matrix of eight boxes appears, with footage of students walking across the screens.

  “What the hell is this?” Mislan asks. “The matrix isn’t labeled. How’re we to know which locations the recordings are from?”

  Johan bends closer to the monitor.

  “Time and date are the same. The top boxes look like they’re from corridors.” He points to one box on the bottom row. “That’s like the library entrance, and that’s the lobby: See the top-right corner there? Looks like pigeonhole shelves.”

  They watch the stream of students moving about like ants in the eight boxes for about five minutes, then Mislan says, “This is not going to work.” He presses the stop button and ejects the DVD. “Jo, take it to Sai and ask if he can separate each box.”

  “Can it be done?”

  “He’s the expert, he should know. Tell him to put it all on one disk.”

  He gives his assistant the DVD.

  “Jo, check if Sherry has made arrangements for her detectives to go to the Setapak Apartments.”

  “Will do. I thought I’d spend some time at the roadside stalls across from the apartment, if we’re not doing anything tonight.”

  “What time?”

  “About seven, seven-thirty. We can have dinner there.”

  “I need to go home and check on Daniel. He wasn’t feeling too good yesterday. I’ll see you there after that.”

  On his way home, he calls the nanny to ask about Daniel’s health and asks her to text the grocery list if she has one. The nanny informs him Daniel is still coughing a little and that he has taken his medication. Just as he gets to the supermarket, he receives the texted grocery list. He has no idea what some of the items are. He pushes the cart slowly along the aisles and scans the shelves. Too many items look unfamiliar. Giving up, he asks an employee stacking a shelf, wearing a “May I Help You?” T-shirt, where he can find baking chocolate. The obviously foreign worker looks at him blankly. He swears and moves on. He spots some baking flour on a shelf and pushes the cart toward it. He sees a woman, another shopper, approaching.

  “Excuse me, please,” he says. “What’s baking chocolate?”

  The woman smiles and leads him to the end of the aisle, “What brand?”

  “Any brand will do, I suppose.”

  “What’re you baking?”

  Mislan laughs, “I don’t even know how to cook, much less bake. My son’s nanny asked for it, and I don’t know what she wants it for,” he says, showing the woman the text message.

  “If she’s baking a cake, then this is what she wants,” the woman says, holding up a packet. “You should call her and ask.”

  “It has to be a chocolate cake, because Daniel loves it. Thank you.”

  “Maybe next time, your nanny should text your wife. I’m sure she’d know,” the woman teases him.

  “I’m sure she would, but I doubt if she’d get it for the nanny.”

  “Why’s th
at?”

  “She is staying in Johor,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Oh … single parent?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m Freda,” she says, extending her hand.

  “Mislan, pleased to meet you,” he replies, shaking her hand.

  “Call me the next time you need help when shopping for groceries. Here, take my number.”

  “Thank you, I may just take you up on it.”

  Freda walks away and, as she turns the corner, he notices her sneaking a peek at him. Smiling, Mislan now knows why many say supermarkets are good hunting grounds.

  When he enters his apartment, he is greeted by Daniel saying, “Daddy, you need to buy me a recorder for my music class.”

  “Didn’t Mummy buy you one some time ago?”

  “That was when I was in kindergarten. I can’t use that anymore as it only breaks into two. Teacher says I need one that can be broken into three.”

  “Where’s the recorder? I can break it into three pieces, or more, if you want,” he kids with his son.

  “Dad-dy!”

  “Sister says you’re still coughing. Are you still drinking cold sodas?”

  “A little.”

  “I told you not to.”

  “Sister gave me.”

  “He’s the one insisting on it,” the nanny shouts from the kitchen.

  “Kiddo, please, no cold drinks until you’re better.”

  “OK. When are you buying me the recorder?”

  “This weekend. We can go shopping together.”

  28

  MISLAN TAKES A QUICK shower and joins Daniel in his room. They watch his favorite documentary show Monster Fish together. When it is over, he tells Daniel that he has to go to work. Daniel looks at him disappointedly.

  “Are you going to come home late?” His tiny voice catches in his throat.

  “Most likely, kiddo. Don’t stay up too late, and please take your medicine before you go to bed. Come here and give me a big hug. Love you, kiddo.”

  Before leaving, he reminds the nanny to give Daniel his medicine. Walking to his car, his cell phone rings.

  “Yes, Sherry.”

  “Johan tells me you are meeting him at Setapak apartments. Can I come along?”

  “Sure, but we’re going to have dinner at a roadside stall. Are you OK with that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Word around the office is you’ve got class. Roadside-stall food may not suit you,” he says.

  “Has anyone told you that you’re an asshole? Can I join you, or not!”

  “Countless times,” he says laughingly. “Dress casual.”

  He phones Johan to ask his whereabouts and is told he just arrived. He decides to take the DUKE expressway, driving past the site of one of his murder investigations that nearly cost him his job and prison time. It brings back memories. Exiting at Setiawangsa, he takes a left to Setapak Jaya. There are three roadside stalls, and they decide on the one in the middle. Mislan orders a bowl of oxtail soup, an onion omelet, and plain rice, while Johan decides to have Pattaya fried rice with mixed tomyam soup. Johan spots Sherry and Deena walking toward them.

  “What’re they doing here?”

  “Joining us.”

  “You knew they were coming?”

  “Only Sherry, not Deena.”

  “Is something happening?”

  “Nope, we’re just having dinner and snooping around.”

  “What’re you guys having?” Sherry asks as they sit down.

  “Rice,” Johan answers, and signals to the stall operator.

  Sherry and Deena order noodles and mineral water.

  “Why are we focusing our investigation here?” Deena asks, sipping her drink.

  They all look at Mislan.

  “Are we?” he asks and smiles.

  “We’re all here, having dinner by the roadside. Why aren’t we having dinner near the first crime scene?”

  “Because it’s too expensive in Bangsar,” Mislan jokes.

  “Seriously, sir, this is my first murder investigation, or sort of. I want to learn as much as I possibly can.”

  “Sorry. Well, it’s not rocket science. For one thing, this is my crime scene.” He glances at Sherry and waits for her disapproval. When nothing comes, he says, “It has been, what, nine days since the first vic was raped? By now, I’m sure you’ve interviewed most of the people you felt could help you and revisited every piece of information.”

  Deena nods.

  “But you haven’t come up with anything. Your second vic is alive, and the case is still fresh. Also, the rapists got into an unplanned situation and panicked. In the panic, they reacted rashly, which I believe was not in accordance with their playbook. But what’s more important to me, I mean, to our investigation, is that panic often results in mistakes.” He pauses and searches their faces. “That’s why we’re focusing our investigation here.”

  “Playbook … interesting,” Sherry says.

  Mislan smiles.

  “May I know what was in their playbook?”

  “I don’t know, but certainly murder was not part of it.”

  “You come to that conclusion based on … ?”

  “One, the perps only uploaded the rape but not the murder. That tells me killing is not what they were after. You thought earlier they’re doing it for fame. Well, murder would certainly make them famous.”

  “You said one, what are the others?”

  “I only have two,” Mislan says, grinning. “Two, the manner in which the vic was killed … one strike, and they didn’t stick around to make sure the vic was dead.”

  The dinner crowd starts building up, comprised mostly of young men in their early twenties coming down from block 10 and the surrounding buildings. Johan hops from table to table, introducing himself and chatting with the youngsters. When he returns, he says, “On the day of the incident at about three or four in the morning, a bike came out from the apartment compound at high speed and crashed into a parked car over there, making a turn. The biker and pillion rider picked themselves up and scooted off.”

  “The City Hall workers didn’t say anything about the accident when I interviewed them,” Deena growls.

  “They probably didn’t even know of the accident,” Johan says.

  “Whose car was it?” Sherry asks.

  “They don’t know, but they’ve seen it parked along the street before. A gray Kenari.”

  “Got the number?”

  “All they remember was it had a Wilayah registration plate, and that the last two digits were 4-2.”

  “OK, let’s finish eating and hit the ground and do some real police work,” Mislan says. “Jo, you and Deena do the other stall. See if you can get any more info on the accident.”

  “Where’ll you be?”

  “Right here enjoying the company of Sherry, my coffee, and cigarettes.”

  Mislan’s cell phone rings. It’s Saifuddin.

  “Inspector, I separated the CCTV recording Sergeant Johan gave me, and I think there’s something here that you may want to look at.”

  “What is it?”

  “The video might have captured the laptop thief. I suggest you view it and decide.”

  “OK, give me twenty minutes.”

  He informs Sherry of Saifuddin’s discovery and tells Johan to go back to the office with Deena when he’s done.

  Saifuddin turns the large monitor toward them and runs the video on a split screen. Mislan and Sherry watch in silence as the three-minute video loops over and over.

  “How do I pause it?” Mislan asks.

  “Press this.”

  “Can I pause just one screen?”

  “You press Alt and then 1 or 2 at the same time. Then this key.”

  “You do it. The first one … wait … now! Can you go back a little?”

  Saifuddin punches another key

  “Stop. Now, do the second box. OK, stop … The guy in the white-and-blue T-shirt with the
baseball cap. He goes into the library without a backpack and comes out two minutes later with one.”

  “What’s that dangling thingy? Sai, can you blow it up?” Sherry says.

  Saifuddin punches several keys, and the image of a cute teddy bear on a keychain fills the monitor.

  “Print the image of the backpack, with the brand and teddy bear. I’ll confirm with Massayu if it’s hers.”

  “What about the guy’s face? Can you get a clear image of it?” Mislan asks.

  “No, you can’t, I’ve tried every angle. The baseball cap blocks his face. That was what attracted me to him in the first place.”

  “Let’s view the video again. Try and track his movements, see if you can get a clear image of anyone he speaks to. They could ID him.”

  “I knew you’d ask for that.” Saifuddin punches a few more keys, and a new video stream appears, with the baseball cap guy talking to a couple of other students while walking.

  “This one has a clear shot of their faces.”

  “Great work, Sai. Print it out. Sherry, can you ask Masayu if she knows them?”

  She looks at her watch. “It’s late now, and we don’t want another call from the Datuk to the OCCI, I’ll do it tomorrow. Sai, can you print another set for the whiteboard?”

  Mislan’s cell phone rings, it is Johan telling him they’ve located the Kenari and its owner.

  “Is the car damaged?”

  “Yes, on the right bumper.”

  “Stay with the owner, I’ll get Forensic over.”

  He calls Chew and asks if he can get his team over to the Setapak Jaya City Hall Public Housing.

  “Yes, it’s a car. I’ll see you there.”

  29

  JUST AS MISLAN TURNS right toward the flat, he swears, “What the fuck?” There is a massive jam from the turn-off right up to the roadside stalls. Parking the car on the street, he and Sherry decide to walk the two hundred yards to the front of the apartment.