The Pariah 1.2

There exists no truth for you are the Pariah.

 In 2006, a lunatic who went by the name Chad Wyman stalked an angelic woman and then slit her throat in front of her colleagues and students before he blew his head with a .45. The case was found to have an ocean of similarities with the Clare Bernal case of 2005, wherein the 22-year-old beautician, Clare, was gunned down by her stalker and ex-boyfriend Michal Pech on the shop floor of Harvey Nichols in front of colleagues and shoppers, before Pech fatally turned the gun on himself…

Chad Wyman. Happy.

 Samantha looked at the CCTV camera on the entrance of the Cigar Club and brought the Porsche to a halt athwart to it. She parked her Red Dragon, as she called it, at only an inch’s distance from a Ford on the driving side. ‘Duncan! Give me your hands,’ said Samantha once she had halted the car, and held her brother’s hands tight. She placed them on the steering wheel and swiftly maneuvered herself onto the rear seat.

‘What the hell are you – ’ started Duncan. But before he could comprehend what was happening, she opened the rear door on the left wing of the Red Dragon and jumped on to the street. She wore a terrified face and looked around quickly, just fast enough for the camera to record her exiting from the rear door. Then she quickened her pace and rushed towards the man on whom she had just run over.

Meanwhile, Duncan stepped out of the front door and immediately picked up his phone to call his father. ‘Dad, I-its me, I-I, dad, Sam ran over…Sammy ran over a man near the Cigar Club.’

‘Calm down, Danny. Where are you?

‘Near Monte’s.’

‘Monte’s Cigar Club?’

‘I-she’s been all…weird. Could you, could you please come by?’

‘Give me five minutes, Dan. I’ll be right there. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t answer any questions. If the police insist, ask for a lawyer. But don’t say anything. Is that clear?’

‘Y-yes dad. I know that.’

‘Take care of Sammy. Don’t let her say a thing to anyone. Okay?’

‘Dad-she is…okay. I’ll take care,’ said Duncan perplexedly and sprinted towards his sister.

‘Excuse me, let me through. Excuse me,’ said Samantha and pushed the crowd apart, as she made her way towards the fallen victim. ‘Did someone dial 999? Did someone dial – ’

‘Holy shit! Shit! Shit!’ cried Samantha and collapsed right next to the dead man. She looked at his face, touched it and then looked at the blood pooled around his body.

The officers from the Metropolitan Police Traffic Unit and the Traffic Criminal Justice Unit arrived at the scene and quickly sealed off the scene of death, as Duncan approached Samantha and horrifically stared at the victim.

‘Madam, we have a few questions, if you don’t mind,’ said officer Flynt and pulled her aside.

‘Miss – ’

‘– Samantha.’

‘Great. Miss Samantha, do you know this man?

‘Sammy, don’t answer. Don’t tell them anything. Dad is on his way with a lawyer. That’s right. We use our constitutional right to remain silent.’

‘I haven’t started my investigation yet, Mister – ’

‘Duncan. His name is Duncan Conall.’

‘Samantha! Why are you acting all weird? Why did you – ’

‘Ms. Samantha Conall, am I right?’

‘Yes, officer,’ said Samantha, her eyes still numb.

‘Good. Ms. Conall, do you happen to know the victim? Your eyes are numb.’

‘He-he was…his name is Mitch Wellington. He is the son of Mr. George Wellington.’

‘George Wellington the judge?’

‘George Wellington the judge.’

Officer Flynt took a deep breath and took a look at the body again, as his colleague approached him and said, ‘Flynt, multiple witness report reveals that that car, the one parked by the Cigar Club, ran over this man about four minutes ago.’

‘Have the Justice Unit pick up the CCTV tapes and send them to the bullpen. I’ll be right with you,’ said Flynt and sent his colleague off.

‘Ms. Conall, does that car by the Cigar Club belong to you?’

‘The Porsche? Yes.’

‘Were you the one driving it?’

‘No. My brother, Duncan, was driving it.’

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