UTube

by Rozlan Mohd Noor

  “What’s going on?” Sherry asks as they walk past cars lining the street.

  Mislan shrugs. “Hopefully not another case.”

  Nearing the apartment building, they see a huge crowd on both sides of the narrow street. Yellow crime-scene tape stretches along the sidewalk, closing half of the narrow street and part of the entrance to the complex. Two mobile patrol cars, with their spiraling blue and red lights sweeping the night sky, attract onlookers.

  “What the hell?” Mislan swears. “Switch off those damn lights,” he barks at the patrolmen.

  Johan hears his boss and waves him over.

  “Jo, what’s all this?”

  “The owner of the Kenari, Miss Azura, says her car was parked here when someone crashed into it on the night of the killing. Deena and I checked the area, and we found some debris that could be from the bike. Then Deena spotted this,” Johan says, pointing to a spot. “We think it’s blood from the rider or the pillion.”

  “Good job, both of you. What’s with the MPVs and those lights? They’re going to attract the entire neighborhood, not to mention the press.”

  “We needed to contain the area.”

  “Tell the MPV to do traffic control and look out for the Forensic team.”

  As Mislan and Sherry walk away from Johan and Deena, he hears someone calling. “Inspector Sherry, is there another rape?”

  He swings around to see a group of reporters and cameramen pushing against the crime-scene tape.

  “Shit,” he curses under his breath. “Sherry, you handle them, I’m going for a smoke.” He briskly walks toward the flat.

  Entering the compound, he hears a voice asking, “Leaving so soon?”

  Turning around, he says, “Holy cow, you’re like that crazy stalker-woman in Fatal Attraction.”

  “What woman?” Audi says.

  “What’re you doing here? The show is over there.”

  “Is that sooo … then why’re you walking away?” she chuckles, walking by his side. “What’s the story?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just going for a smoke. You can join me, or you can go back there and find out for yourself.”

  “I think I’ll have a smoke with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Sitting on one of the motorbikes, Mislan lights a cigarette and hands his pack to Audi. She lights one and says, “I heard the DG of Immigration’s daughter was pulled up for questioning.”

  He ignores her.

  “Why was she hauled up? Is she involved?”

  He grins but doesn’t answer.

  “Oh, come on. I did some digging, too, you know. Let’s trade.”

  Mislan squashes his cigarette. “You first.”

  “Trade, OK?” she stresses and waits for a response. “I know the two victims were lesbians. The murdered victim was a pengkid living with the second victim.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “How about this? The first victim’s partner is on the organizing committee of Seksualiti Merdeka.”

  “That’s not surprising. What has that got to do with the case?”

  “I didn’t say it had anything to do with the case, it’s just something I found out. Now it’s your turn, Trade, remember?”

  “You know I can’t tell you anything about an ongoing investigation. However, I can tell you the DGs daughter was not hauled up, she was brought in by her mother, and she has nothing to do with the case.”

  His cell phone rings. It’s Johan informing him the Forensic team had arrived.

  “Got to go and earn my keep,” Mislan says. Walking away, he adds, “Keep the lesbian thing out. The families have already been through hell.”

  Mislan steps over the yellow tape as Sherry and Johan brief the Forensic team supervisor.

  “Where is Chew?” he asks.

  “He’s at another scene and will come over if we’re still not done here,” the team supervisor says, signaling for his men to get moving.

  Mislan and Sherry step back toward the yellow tape and watch the forensic technicians go about their work. Johan and Deena lead a couple of them to the Kenari parked about thirty yards away. Murmurs of excitement run through the crowd, as they’re being treated to a real-life crime scene investigation. The media cameramen jostle with each other for a clear shot.

  Two technicians systematically sweep the area with high-powered flashlights, marking every piece of debris that may be part of the killers’ motorbike or the Kenari. They repeat the sweep to ensure they haven’t missed anything. The team supervisor gives the nod, and the technicians turn on the floodlights. One of them is now armed with a state-of-the-art digital camera while the other holds a clipboard and evidence bag. They meticulously photograph, catalog, and bag everything they consider evidence. The team leader inspects their work and gives them more instructions. Two technicians disappear to their van and, after a while, return with orange goggles and flashlights. One of them has a large plastic container with a nozzle spray on his back. He distributes the goggles and flashlights among his other team members. They switch off the floodlights. The supervisor points to some areas and the technician with the plastic container pumps the handle and sprays a liquid into the spots, while other technicians examine the spots closely, take swabs, and test them with liquid from a small bottle, putting a few drops onto the cotton swabs. “We’ve got blood,” one announces.

  “Yes!” Sherry grins excitedly.

  “OK, let’s do the whole area,” the supervisor says.

  30

  AT THE CONTINGENT HEADQUARTERS, Sherry walks into the Department of Special Investigations, where, by now, she’s a familiar sight at the morning prayer.

  “Heard you got a big break last night,” Inspector Reeziana greets her.

  “We got a break, but I don’t know if it’s big until Forensic comes back with the results. How’s the coffee here?”

  “As good as you can get anywhere. Here, have this, I just made it. I’ll make another one for myself. You know, I always wanted to be in D11, but I don’t think I could stomach it. How do you handle it? I mean the victims’ trauma and suffering?”

  Sherry smiles. “We all handle it differently. I suppose it’s the same with you guys when you’re dealing with the victims’ families: all the questions, grief, despair, anger.”

  “Let’s move on to something more cheerful. What’re you doing tonight? I met this gorgeous guy at the courts yesterday. We talked and he invited me out. He told me to bring a friend if didn’t feel comfortable going out with him alone on the first date. He said he’d bring his buddy. How about it?”

  “A lawyer? Oh no, I don’t date lawyers.”

  “Me neither. This guy is a musician.”

  “Musician … what the hell was he doing in court?”

  “Arranging bail for a friend charged for using.”

  Sherry gives her a stare.

  “He’s not a user…. Well, that’s what he told me. Anyway who cares? … He’s cute,” Reeziana says and laughs.

  The front desk clerk announces the start of morning prayer in five minutes and adds, “Special appearance today by the OCCI.”

  The room moans.

  The OCCI sits at the head of the table looking like he’s about to explode, staring at the officers slowly filing into the room.

  “How’re we going to win the war on crime if we can’t even start our meetings on time?” he barks.

  Superintendent Samsiah, in a deliberate motion, turns around to look at the digital clock behind her. It’s 8:27 in the morning.

  “The meeting starts at 8:30.”

  SAC Burhanuddin follows her line of sight and declares, “This clock is slow; let’s start.”

  The investigating officers give updates on cases of interest over the last twenty-four hours: two armed robberies, one kidnapping that turned out to be a case of a teenage girl going off with her boyfriend, and two sudden deaths.

  “Ghani, what’s the status on the VIP housebreaking and robbery gang?” Samsiah a
sks.

  “It has sort of died off. We expanded our net, but there’s still no report of the stolen goods surfacing anywhere.”

  “It could be shipped out to our neighbors, Thailand. I’ll talk to Interpol and see if they can assist.” She looks around the table. “Where’s Mislan?”

  The officers look at each other.

  “Sherry, do you know where he is?”

  Sherry shakes her head.

  “Those with court cases, and on remand duty, can leave.”

  When the room settles down again, only Sherry and Ghani are left, much to the disappointment of the OCCI. He likes a bigger audience.

  “Are you sure they all have court cases?” he asks Superintendent Samsiah.

  She nods, knowing some of them do not but jumped at the opportunity offered. “Would you like to update us, Sherry?” Samsiah says.

  “We managed to get a CCTV recording from KLCAC, and Saifuddin …” She stops when detective Deena appears at the doorway and stands to attention.

  “Sorry, sir, may I speak to Inspector Sherry for a moment?” Deena stammers.

  SAC Burhanuddin glares at her.

  Samsiah nods, and Deena approaches her boss cautiously and whispers in her ear.

  Sherry shuts her eyes and shivers.

  “What is it, Sherry?”

  “Saifuddin says another video has been uploaded.”

  The Officer in Charge of Criminal Investigations, the head of Special Investigations, the head of Sexual & Child Abuse Investigations, and Sherry stare in horror at the monitor, at the hissing rapist, the mouth behind the pantyhose, the gleaming steel knife pressed against the victim’s cheek, the terror in her eyes, her desperate pleading, crying, and the final submission.

  “Mute it, mute it,” Samsiah barks at Saifuddin. “Have we received a report?”

  “No,” Lillian says.

  “Where did it take place?” she asks Saifuddin.

  “I don’t know. There’s no way to tell from the video.”

  “Check all the districts, find out where it happened.”

  Detective Deena enters the task force room and tells them none of the districts received a rape report.

  “Could it be a hoax?” Lillian asks.

  “If it is, they deserve an Oscar for their performance. Lillian, can you get on IPRS? It could be from another state. Who uploaded it?”

  IPRS stands for Integrated Police Report System and enables tracking of police reports made within the country. Access is assigned to specific personnel based on need.

  “Same username: Emancipatist,” Saifuddin announces.

  “Contact MCMC immediately,” Samsiah instructs.

  “Done.”

  “I promise you, heads are going to roll,” SAC Burhanuddin growls. The officers stare at him.

  Detective Deena comes back to inform them that the case was reported in Shah Alam, Selangor, at 3:40 in the morning. Selangor is the neighboring state to Wilayah Persekutan, where Kuala Lumpur is.

  “Sherry, contact the IO and get more details on the case. Sir, can we get Selangor to work with us?”

  “Why do you want that? We already have enough on our hands. Let them handle their own shit.”

  “There might be evidence there that may help us solve our cases,” Samsiah says. “Lillian, can you call and ask them?”

  The OCCI stands and walks to the door, “Update me at noon before my press conference this evening, and give me something worth telling the media.”

  “When was this video uploaded?” Samsiah asks.

  “5:17 this morning.”

  “We’ve got one press day before it hits the nation. Let’s make full use of it,” Samsiah announces. She turns to Sherry. “Get Mislan and Johan in, now.”

  31

  AT THE OFFICE, THE front desk clerk stops Mislan and points toward the office of Superintendent Samsiah.

  “Where have you and Johan been?” Samsiah demands.

  “Workshop. My car broke down, and Jo came to help me.”

  “And you couldn’t inform the office?”

  “I did. I WhatsApped you.”

  She snatches her cell phone to check and realizes her phone is on silent mode. The messages icon is blinking. She lets out a tiny laugh. “I’m sorry, with all these cases, and him appearing unannounced … I lost it for a moment. So how will you be getting around?”

  “Jo borrowed a motorbike for me. Did something happen?”

  “Another video has just popped up on UTube. This one was in Shah Alam.”

  “When?”

  “Sai discovered it this morning, around 8:30 when he came to the office. The incident was reported around 3:40 and the video uploaded around 5.”

  Mislan arches his eyebrows. “Are we sure it’s the same rapist?”

  “Why?”

  “The time between the rape and upload is very close, unlike in the first two cases.”

  “Maybe they’re getting good, or more confident.”

  “Could be.”

  “Lan, I need you to focus on this case. Sherry tells me you guys may have the break you’ve been looking for. Run with it, and wrap this up before another wave of public panic.”

  “Can I take the lead?”

  “No, Sherry remains the official lead, but from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve been running the show,” she says, giving him the I-am-not happy-about-it stare.

  “Where did you hear that?” Milan fakes innocence and stands to leave.

  “I’ve ears and eyes everywhere, remember?” She waves him away. “Lan, don’t aggravate the situation.”

  Sherry, Johan, and Deena are in the task force room when Mislan enters.

  “Where have you been?”

  “My car broke down. Ma’am says there’s a new upload.”

  Saifuddin starts the video and moves aside to allow Mislan and Johan to slide closer to the monitor. The inspector takes out a packet of chewing gum, unwraps one, and offers the pack to the rest.

  “What’s with the chewing gum?” Saifuddin exclaims.

  “I’m trying to cut down on cigarettes. It’s burning a hole in my pocket.”

  “You should be more concerned about your health,” Sherry says.

  “What’s the point of a long life if you run out of money?” he replies with a chuckle. He clicks “pause.” “Sai, can you bring up the other videos on another monitor?”

  Saifuddin wheels his chair closer and runs the first rape on the middle monitor and the second one on the laptop.

  “What’re you looking for?”

  “Pause the video at the knife.”

  Sherry and Deena come up behind them.

  “It looks like a different knife to me,” Mislan says. “The knives in the first and second videos looked similar but not this one.”

  “Sai, zoom in on it,” Sherry says. “Definitely different. They could’ve ditched the first knife after the murder and bought a new one.”

  “Maybe. Sai, can you get the best shot of the pantyhose guy, upright?”

  “On all three?”

  Mislan nods.

  “I need to smoke,” he gripes. “Can we open the windows and lock the door? Sai, when you’re free, can you print a Do Not Disturb sign for the door?”

  “Great idea, I’ll do it immediately after this.”

  Sherry shakes her head at the two smokers.

  “Deena, get the stand fan from the back room. The room is stuffy with cigarette smoke.”

  Deena grabs Johan by his arm and pulls him along with her, saying, “He’s your boss.” They return with a stand fan, plug it in, and open the windows. Sherry locks the door.

  “Thanks,” Mislan says, lighting a cigarette, with Saifuddin following suit. “Now, this feels like a real squad room, just the right ambiance for police work.”

  “This is the best footage I can get,” Saifuddin declares.

  “Tell me what you see?” Mislan asks the others, walking toward the open windows. The heat from outside hits him, and he decides
to walk back to the middle of the room and stand under the air-conditioning vent.

  “This rapist looks shorter and smaller than the guy in the first and second cases,” Sherry says. “I don’t think it’s the same person. Look at his arm; he’s darker-skinned, too. I think this is a copycat rape.”

  “Maybe it’s due to the lighting and camera angle,” Johan suggests.

  “But the username is the same, Emancipatist,” Saifuddin counters. “If it’s a copycat rape, how did he upload it with the same username?”

  “Same cameraman, different rapist,” Johan offers an explanation. “Maybe they switched roles.”

  Mislan lights another cigarette and listens to the team. All of a sudden the room falls silent and all heads turn toward him.

  “What?”

  “I’m sure the nicotine has stimulated your brain sufficiently by now for you to pitch in,” Sherry goads him.

  “You don’t need my input, you guys are doing fine,” he says. “Let’s leave this for a moment until we can get more on it. Sherry, why don’t you meet Massayu and ask her about that backpack? Call me when you’re done. We can meet to compare notes and plan our next move.”

  “Where’ll you be?”

  “Jo and I will pay the college another visit.”

  32

  AT THE KLCAC STUDENT Affairs office, Mislan and Johan introduce themselves and ask to see Mr. Lai, the manager. The clerk tells them, “He’s in a meeting.”

  “Please tell him it’s urgent that we speak to him,” Mislan says politely.

  The clerk hesitates. “Maybe Mr. Sega can assist you?”

  “OK, we’ll see Mr. Sega then,” Johan answers, noticing that his boss is starting to get annoyed.

  The clerk points them to a door and lets them pass through the counter barrier. Johan knocks, and Mislan enters without waiting to be invited. Gunasegaran is startled by their sudden entrance, frantically grappling with the mouse to minimize whatever he’s watching on the computer monitor. A big mistake, as the audio of the video is still running. Mislan hears the soft moans of a woman coming from the computer.

  “Want to share what you’re watching?” Mislan says with a smile.