UTube

by Rozlan Mohd Noor

  “Because we’re public servants, and the public has a right to know what we do and why we do it. Check out the concept of transparency and accountability. Once you understand that, you might even subscribe to it,” Samsiah explains, all the while looking at her officer.

  “I don’t know how you swallow all this, ma’am,” Mislan says, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “What did we get from the daughter’s laptop?” Samsiah asks, changing the subject.

  “Her laptop was stolen, and the one she’s using is new. Sai checked the MAC address and confirmed it,” Sherry briefs.

  “Have you checked out her story?”

  “We’re doing it today.”

  “Good. So we’re back where we started.”

  “Looks like it,” Lillian says.

  “The new video, was it removed?”

  “MCMC has been informed and they’re working on taking it down. I’m hoping by today,” Sherry answers.

  “What’ve we found out about the deceased?”

  “Johan did some inquiries at her workplace. It was confirmed that she was a pengkid. D11 victim confirmed it, too.”

  “What about the rape-suicide victim?”

  “Johan is checking her background,” Mislan answers. “He’s also tracing her housemate—Fatimah, who goes by the name of Tim.”

  “Your angle?” Lillian asks.

  “No angle, just trying to see if there’s a link between the two vics,” Mislan offers.

  “Any theory?”

  Mislan and Sherry shake their head.

  “If there’s no link between the two vics, then these are random acts and—” Mislan says.

  “—it makes nailing down the perps more difficult,” Samsiah finishes her officer’s sentence.

  The head of Special Investigations puts on her spectacles and opens a file, signaling the meeting is over. The D11 officers stand, thank her and leave, but Mislan hangs back.

  “What?” Samsiah asks, staring at her officer.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t team up with them,” he says, gesturing to the door with his head. “No point getting them into trouble on my account.”

  “I said you go and do your job and let me handle him,” she says, tilting her head upward indicating the OCCI. “Now go serve the public and earn your salary.” As he reaches the doorway, she calls, “Lan, watch what you say; it can get you in trouble.”

  22

  JOHAN MAKES HIS BOSS a mug of coffee as Mislan unwraps his nasi lemak pack for his first meal of the day. With his mouth full of rice, chili paste, and squid, he asks, “What did you find out about our vic at the Concorde?”

  “She worked there for about three years as a room attendant and was dismissed for sexual harassment.”

  “She was sexually harassed?”

  “No, she harassed another room attendant, a recruit. The girl told her boyfriend, and he confronted the management.”

  “Is the girl still working there?”

  “She left after the vic was dismissed.”

  “I need you to track her down and the boyfriend, too. Maybe there’s more to the story. “

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be asking you to locate them, would I?” Mislan says. “We’ve nothing to do anyway. Have you viewed the videos?”

  “The whole thing is sickening.”

  “Spot anything that we can follow up on?”

  “I really can’t stomach it. Before I forget, Inspector Sherry called for the task force meeting at ten.”

  Mislan and Johan enter the Situation Room and find the four detectives chatting while Saifuddin sits alone behind his monitors and keyboards.

  “Where is Sherry?” Mislan asks.

  “With ma’am,” Deena answers.

  Mislan walks to the window, pushes it open, and lights a cigarette. His assistant and the four detectives look at him but say nothing. The IT technician stands, joins him by the window, and lights up, too.

  “Don’t you smoke when I’m not here?” Mislan asks him.

  “Only if there’s no one around.”

  “So I’m your ticket to smoke when the rest are here.”

  “Sort of,” Saifuddin answers with a wide smile. “You’re an officer. Who’s going to tell you off?”

  “Anything on the … what’s-his-name?”

  “Emancipatist. No, but I’ve programmed the MAC address and his username for monitoring. He hasn’t logged on since the last posting.”

  “Maybe he knows we’re monitoring him, so he only uses that computer for uploading the video and nothing else.”

  “In that case, he is no ordinary user. He could be a techie who knows about cyber monitoring and tagging.”

  Sherry appears in the doorway. Mislan drops his cigarette down the window, quickly followed by Saifuddin. She gives them the glare but says nothing. Mislan pulls the window shut as she takes a seat at the table.

  “OK,” Sherry says. “Yahaya, Mokthar, what’ve you got?”

  “We talked to our snitches, but none of them heard anything on the rape,” Yahaya, the spokesman for his partnership, says. “I mean they heard of the rape from the news and some even saw the video, but no one heard anything about who did them.”

  “Maybe they’re not locals,” Deena suggests.

  “By local, you mean Malay?”

  Deena nods.

  “We talked to our Indon, Bangla, and Myanmar sources, but none of them heard anything, either.”

  “There’s this one snitch, he said maybe the rapists are from out of town,” Mokthar offers.

  “That could be why our snitches didn’t hear anything,” Dorai theorizes.

  “That could just be an excuse for you guys not shaking hard enough,” Mislan sneers.

  Detective Yahaya and Mokthar gaze at him, showing their displeasure at his remark. Mislan’s reputation for being direct is well-known, and they say nothing.

  “What about rapists recently released from prison?” Sherry asks, ignoring Mislan’s remark.

  “We’ve asked for a list from the prison authority. They’re compiling it. Hopefully, we’ll get it today. While waiting for the list, we’ve gone through old cases but failed to find any with similar MO,” Yahaya answers.

  “How far back?” Sherry asks.

  “Five years.”

  “OK. Dorai?”

  “I’ve gone through the CCTV for the first case. There’re only two cameras, both at the guardhouse. A lot of vehicular traffic but no way of telling who is who or where the drivers were headed.”

  “What’re the entry procedures?” Johan asks.

  “The condo has an access card boom-gate. Tenants are provided with access cards so they just drive in. Visitors have to stop at the guardhouse and show their IC and are given a laminated visitor card to be displayed on their car’s dashboard. The guard will lift the boom-gate for them.”

  “The ICs, are they recorded?” Sherry asks.

  “Not all, you know lah guards.”

  “I don’t think the perps would go through the procedures,” Mislan says. “No way they’d want to be seen by the guards or run the risk of their particulars being recorded.”

  “What about motorbikes?” Johan asks.

  “Outsiders’ bikes park at an open space across from the guardhouse, and the riders walk in.”

  “No need to show their ICs?” Mislan asks.

  “No, the open space is past the guardhouse. You park your bike and walk in.”

  “That’s how they got in,” Mislan emphasizes. “There’re two of them, just one bike is needed. Nothing to bring attention to themselves.”

  “The second case?” Sherry asks.

  “No CCTV, no guard,” Dorai answers, shaking his head.

  “Neighbors?”

  “We interviewed most of them, but no one saw or heard anything that morning. In the second case, the next-door neighbor said she heard a scream but thought nothing of it. The units there are mostly rented by shift workers
so you can hear all sort of noises at all hours,” Deena reports.

  “Shift workers, that means there’re people going in and out of the apartment at all hours?” Mislan asks.

  “Yes, we thought so, too, but then the incident happened around two to three in the morning, in between shifts going or returning,” Deena says.

  “Morning shift starts at seven or eight, and the graveyard shift workers will only reach home around eight or nine a.m.,” Dorai explains.

  “Interesting,” Mislan says, tightening his lips.

  “Jo, I understand you did a background on the murder victim and also the first rape victim’s housemate,” Sherry asks. “Like to share your findings?”

  Johan briefs the meeting on what he found out about Zac and Tim, which was nothing much except they were pengkid.

  “I also did a background on your victim, Julie,” Johan says.

  “Anything interesting there?” Sherry asks.

  “One of the bank staff said she used to go out with one of her coworkers, a man, but they broke up after a few months.”

  “Was it amicable or nasty, the breakup?” Mislan asks.

  “After the breakup, the victim asked for a transfer to her present branch.”

  “So it was nasty,” Mislan says.

  “Not necessarily, it could just be heartbreaking,” Sherry counters. “Sai, anything on the social media angle?”

  “Nothing of interest.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mislan asks.

  “Nothing threatening or social-media stalking or personality-bashing.”

  “Looks like we’ve nothing to go on,” Sherry admits with a sigh. “OK, keep at it and I’m sure something will come up.”

  Once they are in Sherry’s office, Mislan closes the door behind him. She waits for him to take a seat before asking what he wants to discuss.

  “Can I smoke?”

  Sherry gives him a silent stare.

  “I take that as a no,” he says, grinning. “What do you people have against smoking? I’m sure you go out, right, restaurants, grills, and pubs? People there smoke.”

  “It’s the regulation, I don’t own this office, and neither is it a public place. What do you want to discuss in private?”

  “The team’s updates. In the first case, the perps know the entry procedures practiced by the condo guards. They also know there’re no cameras except the two at the guardhouse.”

  “Meaning?”

  “They know they can get in without showing their ICs at the guardhouse if they’re on bike. They just need to park their bike at the allocated place and walk in. Two people on a bike attract less than two bikes coming in at the same time, or attract no attention at all.”

  “OK.”

  “The second case was during the in-between shift window. They know the apartment is mainly rented by shift workers. They also know the common shift hours. The incident was around two to three a.m. OK, the second shift starts at three p.m. and ends at eleven p.m. By the time they arrive home, it’ll be around midnight or one a.m. The graveyard shift starts from eleven p.m., ending at seven a.m. Those going will leave around ten p.m. and those coming back will be there around eight or nine a.m. The widest nighttime window is between one to five a.m., just before those going for the morning shift leave their houses. The one to five a.m. window offers them the least chance of bumping into any of the tenants.”

  “Confusing,” Sherry admits.

  Mislan asks for a piece of blank paper and writes:

  Morning shift – 0700 to 1500 (Leave 0600/Return 1600)

  Second shift – 1500 to 2300 (Leave 1400/Return 0000)

  Graveyard shift – 2300 to 0700 (Leave 2200/Return 0800)

  “I’m giving a buffer of one hour for the travel to and from work. You can give two hours if you like,” Mislan explains. “If you look at the timing, the widest nighttime window is between 0000, the time the second shift returns home, to 0600, the time the morning shift leaves for work.”

  “OK, got it. What’s your theory?”

  “Can I smoke?”

  “Stop behaving like a child, will you?”

  “No harm in trying. My theory is these are very organized perps. They observe and study their playground. They planned the entry, exit routes, and timing carefully. My theory is we’re not dealing with brainless testosterone-driven creeps.”

  “And your suggestion?”

  “At the moment, can’t think of any.”

  “That’s a lot of help.”

  Mislan smiles. “Once I have my nicotine fix, I may come up with something.”

  23

  MISLAN GOES BACK TO the situation room, pulls up a chair, and sits facing the whiteboard. He lights a cigarette, and Saifuddin immediately locks the door and pushes open the window. Standing by the window, he capitalizes on the situation by lighting up while watching the inspector. Johan pulls up a chair and joins his boss. They both stare at the photographs of the victims and notes written beside them.

  “What are you looking for?” Johan asks his boss.

  “The link between the vics.”

  “One worked in a marketing agency and the other in a bank. There’s nothing to indicate they knew each other or even crossed paths,” Johan says.

  “Yes, they did, without knowing it, they did cross paths.”

  “How so?”

  “Their lifestyle.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “Their sexual orientation. Sai, you said you checked their social media accounts, right?”

  “Yup,” Saifuddin answers, stepping closer to them.

  “OK, go into the first victim’s social media accounts and read all her postings and comments. Search for Tim’s accounts and do the same.”

  “What specifically are you looking for?” Saifuddin asks.

  “Her relationship with Tim. I want to know for certain her sexual orientation. We know Tim is a pengkid, but I need to know the jumper was her partner.”

  “OK, on it.”

  The doorknob creaks, followed by angry-sounding knocks on the door.

  “Open this damn door!” Sherry calls.

  Mislan throws his cigarette butt out, pulls the window shut and opens the door.

  “Sorry, I must have accidentally pressed the lock when I came in,” he says.

  “Yeah, right, like I was born yesterday.” Sherry gives him and Saifuddin admonishing looks. “One of these days ma’am’s going to walk in on both of you smoking and burn your asses.”

  Sherry walks in and takes a seat. Mislan sits next to her.

  “Remember what you told me? About the rapes having hidden motives?”

  Sherry nods.

  “Well, as much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with you. In your second case we know she’s a lesbian, we can rule out jealous ex-boyfriends.”

  “Where did the jealous ex-boyfriend theory come from?”

  “Experience,” he chuckles.

  Sherry laughs, “I hope it’s not yours.”

  Mislan ignores her.

  “The first vic, Era, was a marketing big shot. The second, Julie, works in a bank. Made the connection between the two?” she continues.

  “Based on their backgrounds, nothing. They’re not from the same school, neighborhood, or even state. They never worked in the same company. One lived in Pantai Dalam, and the other in Setapak Jaya, two different police districts. Roughly thirteen miles apart. They weren’t in the same social circle,” Mislan states.

  “Random?” Sherry raises her eyebrows at him. She knows something is clicking in that brain of his, and she knows he is toying with her.

  “Scary prospect isn’t it, no pattern to map out, no specific target group to monitor. You won’t be able to plan any preventive measures. Cases will mount, and you’ll just be picking up the pieces as you go along. In the meantime, you’ll be praying for Lady Luck to come to your rescue,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Me? It’s we,” Sherry reminds him.

/>   “Me, I’ve only one case. The word ‘serial’ here is for the rapes, not the murder.”

  Sherry notices Johan and Saifuddin watching them, all ears. She beckons for Mislan to follow her back to her office. Once inside, she closes the door, walks to her chair, and stands next to it.

  “Do you have a problem working with me?” she asks, looking intently at Mislan.

  “I need a smoke, can I smoke here?”

  “Damn you, Mislan, let’s not make the situation worse,” she snaps. “Do-you-have-a-problem-working-with-me?” she repeats. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, second-guessing, and undermining me. I did not pick you to be my second, and I never looked at you as my second. If you want out, go talk to your boss.”

  Mislan purses his lips. “I like your spirit. Never knew you had that in you.”

  “What spirit? That’s me, pissed off!” she explodes. “Look, I don’t know what’s bothering you about working with me, but if you’re not going to give this one hundred percent, I suggest you talk to Superintendent Samsiah and get yourself off the case.” She takes a long deep breath. “I’ve more than enough on my hands without having to deal with your attitude.” She drops into her chair heavily. “Have you read the papers?”

  “No. Why do you need to read them? You know firsthand what the case is about.”

  “They’re talking about serial rapists on the loose in the city, that the police are clueless. The public is in a panic, and my boss’s phone’s ringing off the hook.”

  “That’s why I don’t read the papers. I don’t know why you bother to. Look, Sherry, you know what you’re doing and how the case is going. Just keep at it and let the papers publish whatever they want to sell papers.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “It’s that easy. Just ask yourself what you want. Play to the media or go for closure? In my case, I let the publicity junkie upstairs deal with the media.”

  “Let’s get back to the primary issue. Are you with me or do you want out?”

  “Let me be upfront, I’m with you, but there’ll be times that I’ll be against you. During those times, I’ll do what I feel is the right thing to do. I suggest you do the same. How does that stand with you?”