True Justice, A Free and Original Short Story

This is an original, free short story written and illustrated by Alex Inglewood,
with help from GPT-3 and Stable Diffusion

For ages 10+

Estimated reading time: 10 minutes

Our Story Begins

Frank Printz shrugged his coat off and put it on the back of a chair. He had just finished his morning shift as a crime reporter for the local paper and was looking forward to taking a break with a couple of his coworkers. He pondered about the police report that landed on his desk earlier.

“Not really,” Sandra replied, “though I did hear that someone matching the description Rodriguez gave earlier was seen at a bar downtown a few hours ago.”

“Anything new?” he asked one of them sitting next to him.

Frank froze and narrowed his eyes. The suspect in Torres’s death. If the killer was still in town, there was a chance Frank could make a big name for himself by helping to bring him to justice.

Frank Printz AI art generated by Stable Diffusion and Alex Inglewood

Satisfied with what he’d learned, Frank told Sandra he’d be skipping out on break and headed straight over to the police station to talk to Rodriguez in person. He found the detective sitting at his desk. Frank and Hernando Rodriguez had developed a respectful but cautious relationship over the past year. The detective was normally wary of journalists, but sometimes turned to Frank because he appreciated the journalist’s skill at gathering information discretely.

“Long day, Detective?”

“Always. What you got?”

“Guy matching the description you gave me was spotted downtown. Trail is only a few hours cold.”

Rodriguez grunted.

“Hmm, tempting, but my hands are tied on this one. Damn bureaucracy.”

He revealed there were disagreements among the detectives about how Torres’ murder should be handled. A lot of them believed that Torres’ death was simply an accident.

“Even if it was, proper due diligence is to investigate until foul play has been ruled out. Sounds suspicious that they’re so eager to label it an accident and sweep it into a desk drawer.”

“You think? Keep your wits about you. Something isn’t right here. For now, tail the guy and see what he does. The evidence on the suspect that links him to Torres’ death is circumstantial at best. I need more to bring him in.”

Image of Rodriguez in the police station

Nodding, Frank left. If Rodriguez couldn’t bring the murderer to justice, then he’d have to take it into his own hands. He reflected on the grisly scene from two days ago. The sound of the sirens. The wreck of the car, one wheel still spinning forlornly in the air. The blood and the broken body within. Supposedly just another car accident, but Frank’s intuition told him there was more to it.

The Informant

He called one of his most reliable informants and asked her to meet him at their regular spot, a discrete diner in a quiet part of town. He got there and waited, and in time, she came. She sauntered in, hair a mess. Frank didn’t know her real name, or if what standing before her was what she really looked like. He had tried to figure it out, of course, but her real identity had always eluded him under layers of fake names and forged documents. But whoever she was, she was reliable, a quality that was hard to come by in sources.

“Coffee,” she demanded.

Frank ordered her usual. He pulled out his phone, turned it off, and put it down on the table in front of him to show he wasn’t recording anything. Once the coffee came, he started quizzing her about the victim. Who would have had motive to harm Torres? She mumbled incoherently between sips.

He finally got a break when the caffeine hit her and brought with it several revelations. It turned out that not only was Torres unpopular among family and coworkers alike, but he also made huge waves in his field by exposing corruption within high-level government circles. There were plenty of folks with motive to kill him, but if he was murdered, they must know exactly what they were doing by perfectly framing his death as an accident to avoid suspicion. If they were good enough to fool most of the officers and detectives in Rodriguez’s department, or worse yet, pay them off, it must be the work of a professional. That in turn meant deep pockets may ultimately be behind Torres’ death. Frank could see the Pulitzer prize sitting on his desk already.

The mug sat empty and the mysterious woman sitting across from him immediately stopped talking. Frank flagged the waiter and ordered another. With another piping hot mug securely between her lips, he asked, “So what do you know about the suspect? Word is he’s still in town. You know where I can find him?

“Nothing of interest. He’s clean on paper. Works in business development for enterprise software. His name is Brian Harris. You can find him at the Swan.”

Frank nodded. The suspect’s name was as boring as his supposed occupation. Clearly it must be an alias for something. He handed her a heavy envelope. She took it, felt its weight, and then slipped it into her coat without even opening it.

“Pleasure as always. Don’t be a stranger,” she said as she got up and walked out. Frank waited a few moments before leaving himself, knowing his source would appreciate the head start to vanish into the crowd. He then grabbed his phone and headed towards the Swan.

The hotel was a tall, imposing building situated in the heart of the business district, with a sleek, modern exterior and a large glass atrium that contained several shops and restaurants. It was the perfect place for someone pretending to be in tech sales to stay on a business trip. Frank settled in at the lobby bar and waited for his quarry.

The Suspect

Hours passed, but eventually Frank caught sight of the person he was looking for. He was totally non-descript and blended in easily with the tech crowd as he got out of the elevator and made his way out towards the street. Frank left some cash on the counter to close out his tab and then started discretely tailing the guy calling himself Brian Harris.

Frank carefully kept some distance between them as he trailed Brian, trying not to draw attention to himself. The streets were mostly empty now and the only people around were commuters rushing to their next destinations. Brian clearly knew he was being followed, since he hurried his step and kept looking back over his shoulder at him. After a quick turn around a corner, he saw Brian suddenly run through an open side door and try to close it behind him. Frank lunged after him and managed to slam it back open and slip inside.

As soon as he entered, he was struck with a hard blow to the face. Luckily, Frank had anticipated an ambush and had his taser at the ready. Before Brian could land another blow, Frank stunned him with a quick jolt to the neck, causing him to drop his weapon and grip his throat in pain.

Frank caught the fallen man before he could hit the ground and restrained him using a knee on his back. When he was sure the man was knocked out, he tied his hands and feet together and then scoped out the rest of the room they were in to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. It looked like some kind of loading area that wasn’t used often. Perfect. He sat down on a random crate and waited. Eventually, Brian started to come to.

“Hello, Brian Harris, or whatever your real name is,” Frank said flatly.

“Uggghhh….Why were you stalking me?….Who are you?” Brian gurgled. He was clearly still very out of it.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. It’s your identity we’re talking about here.”

“Look, I’m just some guy going about his life. Whoever you’re looking for, you’ve got the wrong person.”

“I’m pretty certain I have exactly who I’m looking for.”

Brian shook his head.

“Torres, Manuel. Father of 2. He worked at the city hall and died in a supposed car accident two days ago.”

“My condolences. What has any of that got to do with me?”

“Because you’re the one who set it all up to look like a car accident.”

“What?! You’re crazy. You got the wrong guy.”

Frank squinted at the man lying across from him. This was going to be a long night.

An Unexpected Turn

Hours of questioning later, Brian hung limp in his bindings and said nothing more. Frank had gotten what he could out of him, but he was also more frustrated than ever. This guy was either very good, or he might actually be innocent. Could he possibly have the wrong guy?

He reflected on intel Rodriguez originally gave him: a witness claimed to have seen someone who looked like Brian hanging around Torres’ car a few hours before the accident, and he spotted again rubbernecking at the scene of the accident. Could it all just be a coincidence? Surely not. Hopefully the material he got would be enough for Rodriguez to at least argue to the higher ups that the case needed to stay open. He got up and left Brian where he lay. He trudged home, pausing only to send a message with the audio recordings of Brian’s questioning.

The next day, Frank headed back over to the police station to talk to Rodriguez.

When Frank arrived, Rodriguez was arguing with someone on the phone. When he saw Frank approach, he immediately hung up and greeted Frank coldly.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Frank. Assaulting and kidnapping the suspect was way out of line! All I wanted was for you to watch him and dig up some stuff on him to give us cause to bring him in for questioning, not confront him and roughen him up. None of this vigilante stuff is admissible in court. You can’t just take the law into your own hands.”

Two cops came up from behind Frank and cuffed him. As they read him his rights, Frank protested, “I did all of that because you weren’t doing your job! Are you really going to let a murderer potentially get away?! What justice is that?”

“Justice?! As I said, he’s just a suspect, but you treated him like he was already guilty of a crime from the start. What justice is there in that? Get this self-righteous amateur out of here.”

The cops led Frank away as Rodriguez glowered after them.