date: 12.07.97
age: 17
grade: 12
rank: 07
Detective Nick Bracken stared lethargically at the closed manila folder on his dimly-lit desk. He extended his arm and flipped the file open. He began reading the descriptions aloud, hoping it would help him profile the event.
"Name: Mark F. Roberts. Birth date: 7/27/37..." Nick let out a big sigh, slumped down in his chair, and skipped down the page, "... Occupation: Retired lawyer. Marital Status: Widower. Relatives: Children: Frank, Eric, Daniel, and Linda..." Nick flipped through the other papers in the file. He threw the folder down on his desk and picked up the phone.
"Hey Sam, got any new revelations on the Roberts case?"
"The quadruple homicide?"
"Yeah."
"Nope. Sorry, Nick. Nothin' new."
"Damn! Well... what have we found so far?"
"Not that much. The place was pretty clean, but the lock was broken. I'm thinkin' there was a break-in."
"It's possible... but I'd need to give that place another look first."
"You wanna go now?"
"Yeah. Meet me there in half an hour." Nick grabbed his folders, a gulp of coffee, and headed out the door.
In the heart of Los Angeles, on the corner of the cold sidewalk, Detectives Nick Bracken and Sam Robinson exchanged somber greetings before heading into the crime scene. Nick examined the lock. "Someone definitely broke this lock on purpose."
"Forced entry?"
"Maybe." They walked inside. Nick flipped on the lights, illuminating the vast, luxurious interior. Nick's eyes snapped open. "How much money did this guy have again?"
"He was valued at $200 million,"
"Wow. Well it's obvious why someone would want to rob this guy. Sam, read me the leads we have so far."
"Witnesses reported that at about 9:37 PM on November 27th, they heard four distinct gunshots just after lights flashed off in the suite on the 4th floor."
"That's the one we're standing in right now."
"Yes. It was owned by a Mr. Mark Roberts, who was identified as one of the victims as well as three others who were identified as his sons. They all died of nearly identical gunshot wounds to the chest. The father and the eldest son were found lying here," Sam pointed to a spot on the hard wood floor, "while the other two sons were sitting in chairs over there. It looked like they were in the middle of a Thanksgiving dinner."
"Boy, they've got a lot to be thankful fo-"
"The presumed murder weapon was found in a punch bowl. It was a large caliber handgun, no bullets remaining. Nick, I'm thinkin' someone broke in with the intent to steal, found the father and sons there, shot them, got scared, dropped the weapon, and ran the hell out of here."
"Yeah, but without taking anything?" Nick walked slowly around the suite. He reconstructed the evening in his mind...
Frank, Eric, and Daniel Roberts sat around the table, devouring their dinner and sipping their wine. Mr. Roberts walked from the kitchen, bringing more turkey. One son boasted about his property and most recent purchases. The next son boasted, too, trying to top the other. The third son joined in the sea of selfishness. Their voices got louder and louder as they bickered back and forth. They finally all agreed that they were all so rich, and so much better off than everyone else that it didn't matter. They may have been a little drunk, too.
Suddenly, the lights went out. Silence covered the room like a blanket. One by one, four shots rang out in the night. They were all dead, bleeding to death from their puffed up chests.
"But what could have possibly happened?" Nick looked desperately at Sam.
"I think someone broke in. Just picked them off one by one, since the wounds are all the same..."
"Yeah? Well, who are the suspects? Just about anyone within a three mile radius of this apartment at the time of the murders!"
"Well, we'd need forensic tests to tell. We can't get prints off the weapon... maybe the knob though..."
"That could take months!"
"Whoa, Nick, calm down. There is one solid lead. The father had a daughter named Linda. She had made some bad choices in her life, and she had fallen on hard times."
"You think the need for money drove her to kill?"
"... or her jealousy toward her very rich siblings. Friends of the family have said that Mr. Roberts hated his sons. They were greedy, backstabbing, low-lives. They didn't even show up for their mother's funeral!"
"I heard that. Well, where will his money go now?"
"Linda was written as the sole benefactor in Roberts' will. Since it has so far been ruled an accidental death, his insurance plan will award everything to her. Linda probably killed him to get the money,"
"Maybe, Sam. But why would she kill her brothers?"
"Well, two reasons. If she didn't, they might kill her to get the inheritance. And it was possible, with the finances and authority that the sons had, to overturn Roberts' will and receive part of the money."
"I don't know Sam. I heard that there was more love in the relationship between her and her father than in the rest of the family combined. Roberts would have probably given her the money. What I can't understand is why the boys would be eating dinner with him anyway. They hadn't seen each other in eight years."
"Who made the arrangements? Maybe it was one of the sons. Maybe one of the sons planned to kill his father!"
"Stop it Sam! This is getting out of hand. It's getting late, I think we should go now."
"Yeah, Nick, you're right. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll get the police to hunt down Linda," Sam said as he walked out the door.
Nick stood next to the table. He looked at the two chairs stained with the blood of the sons. He looked at a portrait over the fireplace. It was a picture of Linda and her father. The glass was shattered. Why was the glass shattered? Nick walked toward the picture and saw that a bullet had penetrated the portrait and lodged into the wall behind it. He got tweezers out of his bag and pulled the slug out of the wall. It was clean. "Wait," he thought to himself, "... four shots fired, four people killed, yet one bullet didn't hit anyone." Placing the slug in a plastic bag, Nick picked up his briefcase and ran out of the apartment.
Nick threw the door to his office open and he grabbed the phone. "Sam, I don't think we need to look any further."
"Why's that?"
"One of the shots was clean."
"Yeah... so?"
"That means four shots didn't kill them! Four were fired, but only three were used for the murders."
"I don't follow you Nick..."
"Someone who broke in to the suite would have to use four shots to kill the four men. There wasn't enough time for a killer to break in, run in, kill two people before they even moved, and then line up the final two with one bullet."
"Yeah?"
"Sam, that means one of the four victims must have been the killer!"
"What? You think a son killed the father and the other sons? But why would he kill himself?"
"One of the sons wouldn't kill himself... but the father would. He did it for Linda."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Mr. Roberts probably had it planned all along. He would take his own life and his sons' so his beloved daughter would get all the money. He didn't want his sons to interfere with his will if he died. He broke his own lock to make it seem like an intruder was the killer. His insurance would turn over his wealth to the sole benefactor, Linda, as a result of accidental death. If his insurance knew he had willingly killed himself, she wouldn't receive the money."
Nick had finally pieced it together. It was all clear now...
The sons were fighting about their pricey possesions, of all things! Mr. Roberts just couldn't stand it. He knew he was doing the right thing. He got the gun out of the bread box. He slowly loaded it with bullets. One... two... three... four. One for each heart. He hid the gun under a napkin, while he carried the serving tray out of the kitchen. He flicked the light switch. Darkness.
He aimed the gun at his youngest son. BANG! He moved a little to his left and aimed. BANG! Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind by the big arms of his eldest son. He struggled, but could only get his forearms free. The gun started slipping in his hands. BANG! He heard the sound of glass breaking. A wasted bullet. The bear hug tightened. No! He wasn't supposed to miss! He had only one bullet left! He couldn't reload. He turned the gun around and pointed it at his own chest. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. BANG! The arms gripping him fell away. On his way down he released the gun, letting it fall into the punchbowl. His head hit the cold wood floor. He final thoughts were of Linda, as love poured forth from the hole in his heart.
"Well, I guess Mr. Roberts was more generous than we thought. He gave up his money and his life, all for his daughter."
"Yeah Sam, and he shared something with his son, too."
"They actually shared something?"
"Yeah... a bullet."