Chapter 1: The hellhole
My name is Rocko Jones and I am 16 years old, I have grown up in carehomes since the age of 4. I’ve been treated like an outsider from the other children in the carehomes. Some of the things they have done to me have been not only hurtful to the outside but also scarring on the inside. I remember one time when they hid the only photo I had with my parents when I was a child. My only physical memory of them and I thought I had lost it forever. There were other instances where they had put worms in my pillow or even spiders in my bed. It drove me to my limit but who could I tell? No one would truly listen and if they did it would only cause more trouble for me. No one likes me and I’m not sure how much I can take, fighting isn’t an option, I’ve had to control my anger and tunnel it into different avenues. These experiences, I believe, have made me the man I am today.
I am now 18 years old, the day I leave care, the day I start my life. I’ve got my own flat on the blueberry estate. It’s not what I would call perfect but what I know as home. My new job as a junior detective is one I’m enjoying, it’s a new fresh start which gives me a sense of freedom but also justice. My past slowly fades into the background as my future is layed out in front of me. Then the biggest barrier in my life came to me on my first case on the job.
A fairly standard domestic murder case arrived on to my desk. It hadn’t been solved at the time of murder but new evidence had appeared. Finally, a chance to prove my worth. However, when I started to read through the file my excitement turned to a cold vacancy coursing through my body, as the shudders creeped through every vertebrae in my spine. It was my mothers murder. The murderer… My father. I looked at the murder weapon, as it lay there staring me in my face, I started blaming myself. ‘Was it my fault?’ ‘If they hadn’t had me maybe mum would still be alive’. These thoughts lasted for a matter of minutes before reality hit me. I had to find my father, I had to bring him in and serve my mother she finally deserves. But where could he be? It had been 15 years since I last saw my father, we were fishing by a lake in Hampstead Heath, it was quiet, secluded and relaxing. I absolutely adored it there but now… It seems like a distant nightmare.
2 years have passed and I think I’m close. The emotion I felt when I first got the case has drained from me. I feel nothing towards this man, my so called ‘father’. To me he is now just another criminal waiting to be caught. There was one slight problem, his absence. I was sitting at my office. It was my 21st and of course no one had remembered. I sat there staring at the window thinking of the time I went fishing on my birthday with him. Then it hit me. He must be there, it can’t be just coincidence. I grabbed my coat and keys and made my way to the car park.
As I approached Hampstead Heath, the adrenalin running through me was immense, this was displayed but the sweat dripping down my face, I was one minute away now, my heart racing as my foot got steadily heavier on the accelerator. I pulled a sharp right and stopped. When I got out of the car I saw him. The sight sickened me. This man, my ‘father’ was there hanging from a tree. Hanging like the coward he was. I called it in. He was dead.
10 years on and I’m now the chief detective. My experiences in life have taught me never to hold anything back and go with your heart. Never let emotions get the better of you and always stay strong. However, the case now sitting on my desk will test every last ounce of these things. My favourite careworker, Miss Mulligan… Murdered.
React!