Diary Entry #79
My name is Nobody. My name is the Weirdo.
My name is what people call me and because of them, I’m now gone.
It started with the simple things, the usual playground insults. ‘Ugly’, ‘Nerd’ and the rest but it escalated so far beyond that. ‘Ugly’ and ‘Nerd’ is what people call me when they have nothing better to say. When they have something to say they call me ‘Loser’, ‘Pitiful’, ‘Cringey’, ‘Desperate’. And to be honest some of them are just the ones they use to get started.
To some, these words, these names, help them thrive. Give them something to prove. It didn’t work that way to me. These names just added more weight to my already hunched back and eventually, my back broke.
Shattered into a million microscopic pieces.
You feel yourself break and crack into a million pieces. You scream and you scream and you scream until your voice goes hoarse and you realise that nobody’s going to help you or tell you that everything’s going to be OK. I found my tears when I realised that. Those tears never stopped streaming down my face and eventually when I looked into the mirror I never saw myself clearly. Those tears found me in the darkness, when they knew that I had no light to guide me.
It was so painful. So I did what I could and I ended my pain once and for all.
“Once the judge has called the court to session, the one and only eyewitness was called to the stand. She was fidgeting with the cuffs of her suit as she sat down with the grace of a confident pianist. Her eyes flitted across the room like an unsure butterfly.
“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?” said the clerk with an air of boredom around him, as if he’d done this a million times.
He probably has.
“I do,” said the eyewitness. She tried very hard to sound confident but the nervous jitter tinged the end of her line.
One of the lawyers, the prosecutor, stood from his desk and went up to the stand. He walked slowly and with purpose, seemingly asserting his legal prowess upon everyone in the room.
“Mrs. Amari, you entered the room of you daughter, Ms. Evyln Amari, at 11 PM. She was lying down on her bed with a single gunshot wound to the head. Is that correct?” he asked smoothly, a hint of empathy in his voice.
“Yes, that is correct,” replied Mrs. Amari. Her voice had a slight tremble, but the prosecutor dissmissed that and continued asking her questions.
“Mrs. Amari, why did you enter her room?” he asked.
“I heard some ruffling and mumbling upstairs, and was suspicious. I thought she was still seeing that boy of hers, so I quitely went upstairs, so that she wouldn’t hear me. Then I heard the gunshot and I began running. I banged her bedroom door open and I saw her. I saw my poor baby with blood bleeding out around her! AND THEN I SAW HIM!” screamed Mrs. Amari, tears streaming down her face, eyes black with fury. She had stood up and was making her way towards the young man who was accused of the murder of her child, “You killed my baby!” she scremed again.
The judge called the court to order, while the now very interested clerk escorted Mrs. Amari back to her seat.
Other witnesses, a few cops and, two forensic scientist were called up and they all confirmed Mrs. Amari recount of the night.
The judge ended the session in court and told everyone that court will resume the next morning at nine AM.
The air of the next morning was less tense than the morning before. The jury had their minds half made up already. The accused was called up to the stand. A bead of sweat rolled down his face and he wiped his hands before taking the oath. The clerk led him through the oath, decidedly more interested with the trial compared to yesterday.
The accused sat down once he had said “I do,” and the prosecuter was called to question the accused.
“Your name is Jack Robinson, correct?” the prosecuter asked.
“Yes,” said Mr. Robinson, still visibly nervous.
“On the night of 20th of September, 11 PM, you shot a .45 Glock Automatic Pistol into the back of Ms. Evelyn’s head, correct?” the prosecuter asked.
A slight nod came from Mr. Robinson.
“Once again Mr. Robinson, on the night of 20th of September, 11 PM, you shot a .45 Glock Automatic Pistol into the back of Ms. Evelyn’s head, is this or is this not correct?!” the prosecuter had a slight hint of frustation, though it was not discernable whether or not it was fake or genuine, in his voice.
“YES! I killed her!” yelled Mr. Robinson. “I KILLED HER! I SHOT A BULLET FROM MY FATHER’S GUN INTO THE ONLY PERSON THAT HAS EVER CARED ABOUT ME’S HEAD!”
Everything was decided. At this point the prosecuter was satisfied and sat back down. A person from the jury had raised his hand to signal that the jury were ready to begin discussing their verdict.
As the judge was about to nod a cop ran into the room with a laptop in hand.”
Diary Entry #85
JR was ready. He’s ready to go to jail to get away from his abusive family. I’m ready to die and get away from everything. He’s gotten his hands on a weapon. I felt a bit guilty. The guy genuinely believed that I loved him and I think he has started to truly love me. He’s told me everything and is willing to do anything for me to make me happy.
Even if it means killing me.
“Once the court had settled down the judge called the cop up to give the laptop (specifically a second-hand looking ACER) as evidence. The police didn’t find the laptop in their initial sweep of Ms. Amari’s room. They had only found it when they got a warrant to sweep Mr. Robinson’s room. After questioning, the homicide detectives found that Ms. Amari had given it to Mr. Robinson a few days prior to her death. They got into the laptop and found that this was a laptop Ms. Amari had bought for herself. The police found a series of emails sent between the victim and a Russian server referred to as Purple Dolphin. These emails detailed instructions from Purple Dolphin on self-destructing things and eventually how to plan her own murder. The emails sent from Ms. Amari’s account detailed her completion of such “tasks”.
It was sick.
When the defendant went up to Mr. Robinson and asked him if he knew what Ms. Amari was doing to herself. He said ‘yes’, but he never knew that the harm was systematic in any way. And it was evident he was telling truth because you could see his eyes clouded with a tears and a hint of anger.
The jury decided to go into their room for deliberation. The judge had called this session in court to an end and sent the jury to their deliberation room. The bayliff escorted Mr. Robinson out of court.
The jury have not left that room in a few hours but we will come back to you when they are done.”
Once I had finished my newscast I went home and took a shower. I put on my pajamas and logged onto my private laptop. I opened my email inbox and started writing my next update to Purple Dolphin.