Page 72 - Veritas

same knife.

Then, there was one final body. It was a young girl of only twelve. We had
found what was left of her body across town on a deserted farm. She had been

burnt alive. That image will always remain in my mind. I always imagined that
if you were burnt alive, you would probably just turn to ash, but this wasn’t the

case. Her body still retained form, her skin charred and black, sections of it
peeled off of her body. The ambulance said she hadn’t died immediately. She

had been here for a few days as the fire didn’t kill her. She eventually died of
a combination of hyperthermia and septic shock. A note had been left on the

scene, signed by ‘X’ caused so much pain and so much suffering. The search
had driven me insane. No more murders had occurred, and there was no ev-

idence to identify the murderer. My team had dropped the case and moved
on, but I couldn’t. I searched on for days after, those days had turned into

weeks and the weeks into months.

My boss had fired me by this point and my doctor declared me “unfit for
duty”. But still, I searched on. Eventually, I identified the killer. Her name

was Jenica Amalita and she had lived in Cuba. Upon this discovery, I called
my former team, I thought that they would be happy with me, that they would

say congratulations and arrest the criminal. But, instead, they said my evi-
dence was “...illegitimate...” and that I”...couldn’t possibly bring her to trial..”.

I knew that I was right. I couldn’t have been wrong, could I?

They hung up on me, leaving me to ferment in my misery. I was determined
to bring the filth to justice, but I needed a plane ticket to Cuba and I was des-

titute. I finally decided that I would sell my apartment and all my belongings
to pay for the ticket. Day after I owned nothing, hours later I was on a plane

to Cuba. When I arrived, I immediately began mapping her whereabouts,
there was no time for jet lag. I was able to determine she was at home, alone.

Brandishing a kitchen knife, I broke in the dead of night, sweat dripping off
of my forehead, I dragged her out of her bed. She tried to scream, but I had

already gagged her and tied her to a chair. The situation had felt so surreal.
After years of searching, losing my job and falling below the poverty line be-

cause I was so consumed, I had finally found her and I knew what I had to do
if the law would not serve justice, I would.

Mimicking her first murder, I began to cut off her feet and hands, her eyes