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“You mean you were at this spot at 4:30 and you didn’t see her then?” Whether Jessie realized it or not, she had given us important information for establishing the timeline.
“Yes, sir.” She folded her hands over themselves a few times. “She wasn’t there, but once you get started on the trail, you can’t really see anything behind you. I had my headphones in, so I didn’t hear if a car had pulled up or not. When I came out of the trail about thirty minutes later, I saw someone against the tree.” She started to shake.
“It’s okay, Jessie. Take your time.”
“Well, I called out to her. Asked her if she was okay, you know? But she didn’t say anything.” Sobs started escaping her. “That’s when I saw the blood and I called the police. I didn’t know what else to do or if I could help her.”
“You did everything right; there was nothing more you could’ve done for her.” I reviewed my notes once more. “Did you see anyone in the parking lot when you stopped for her?” She paused to think it over.
“I don’t think so. I screamed and looked around, but I don’t think it was in the direction of the lot. I can’t really remember anything past the panic.” She shivered against the slight chill in the air.
“Well, thank you for the information, Jessie. It was really helpful.” She nodded and I waved over to the medical unit on site. “This gentleman is going to take over from here and make sure you’re okay. We’ll be in touch, okay?” The medic took her hands and walked her to the back of the ambulance, and Officer Billingsley approached my side.
“Sir, this isn’t our usual homicide.” He was right. Typically, we dealt with murder cases involved in robberies, assaults, and, not so frequently, gang activity. Even the gangs weren’t this violent.I pray this ritualism won’t become a serial case.
“I’m going to go back to the office to prepare for our investigation. Keep this quiet; I don’t want the media to get a hold of this just yet. They don’t need to be privy to everything.” I patted his shoulder and started back to my car. Just as I opened my door, I heard something chiming in the wooded area off to my left.
“Billingsley, come here!” I pulled gloves out of the console and clicked on my flashlight. The sun wasn’t quite present enough to come through the brush. He ran up beside me as we crunched over leaves and twigs. The ringing grew louder, and a faint light came through the foliage.
“Are those her belongings?” Billingsley took my flashlight as I reached out to uncover some of the brush.
“That’s exactly what it looks like,” I answered and took another look over the area. “Carefully back out exactly as we came in. Get the crime scene unit over here. I want pictures and any trace evidence they can find.”
When Billingsley left, I took in my surroundings and noted that while I could see the parking lot from here, I wouldn’t be able to throw this in here and have it end up in the bush. The suspect would’ve had to walk in here and purposefully cover the bag and clothing.
I exited the brush and watched as the crime scene unit made sweeps with their kits. This was going to mark the darkest time in my career. I discarded my gloves and took a moment in my car to recollect myself.
An investigator brought a wallet out of an evidence bag and walked it to me.
“Detective Bishop, this information is useful for you.” I grabbed my notebook and took down her details. Her license told me her name was Trisha and gave descriptors for her build. She was only nineteen. I noted her address and looked at the other cards in her wallet. She had a student ID for Monarch Ridge University.
“I’ll need a picture so her parents can identify her. I’ll run her address for phone numbers. Can you get me that within the hour? Dr. Green should be taking her back now. I want this case to be top priority.” He nodded and went back to his unit. It was a twenty-minute drive back to the department, and I had no idea what I was going to say to her family.
The office was cold, and the hum of the fluorescent lights began a dull headache. The forensic team had brought me the thin file they were able to put together within the past hour and a half. Trisha Manohen was a nineteen-year-old female with brown hair and brown eyes. She was approximately five-foot-seven and weighed around 135 pounds. There were no visible identifiers such as tattoos or birthmarks. There were no pre-existing scars or blemishes.
I dialed her parents' phone number.
“Hello?” A deeper voice answered, probably her father.
“Hello, sir. This is Detective Noah Bishop with the West Ridge Police Department. I was hoping to reach Mr. Paul Manohen or Mrs. Karen Manohen.” There was a moment of silence and slight shuffling.
“Yes, this is Paul. Is something wrong?” His voice carried worry, and I was in despair at having to relay this information.
“There is reason to believe your daughter was involved in an accident at the community park by Third Street. Could you and Mrs. Manohen come down to the office and offer assistance for identification and answer some questions?” I heard a female voice in the background.
“Sir, you said there was an accident with Trisha. Is she okay?” The woman’s voice in the background was growing hysterical.
“Mr. Manohen, I can better explain when you come down to the station. This isn’t appropriate for a phone call; you should have answers given to you in person.”
“Okay, we’ll be there soon.” The phone clicked off before I could respond.
I left word with the secretary and prepped the interrogation room. I made sure that the crime scene photos weren’t visible while walking by. The file was thin, but it was enough information for her parents. They didn’t need to worry themselves with the gritty details before grieving and mourning their daughter.
A rap at the door an hour later broke my trance.
“Detective Bishop, Mr. and Mrs. Manohen are here for you,” Jill said as she motioned behind her. Mrs. Manohen had a tear-stained face, and she was gripping her purse tightly to her body.
“Yes, please come in.” I gestured for them to join me at the table.
