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Take today. A young lad, no more than 15 or 16, killed in a tragic collision along the main road. Name of Joe Green. His body was a sight; twisted and bloody.

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Introduction

(TITLE) My eyes slowly open, adjusting to the brightness of morning. I roll over and look at the time on the alarm clock. 8:30. Still early. I can go back to sleep for a little while. The smaller letters underneath the numbers slowly come into focus. Tuesday. TUESDAY! No! I'm gonna be late again. School starts in 15 minutes. I'm never gonna make it in time! I could have sworn it was Saturday. That stupid alarm clock. What's the point of one if it doesn't, you know, alarm you? Man, I can't be late again. Another late and I'm in detention. Again. Another detention and I'm grounded. Again. When I get back, I'm gonna be dead. My mum's gonna kill me. I race round; shoving on uniform and gathering up everything I can remember. I shove a couple of packets of crisps in my bag, and I'm ready to go. I slam out the door, probably waking everyone else up. My bike is out the front where I left it last night - helmet. Damn. It's back in the house. I'll have to leave it; I ain't got the time (or my keys) now. If I really hurry, I might just make it - as school's about a mile away. I've still got 5 minutes, so if I'm lucky I'll probably be ok. Down the drive, down the road, round the corner. Then down the main road even though I'm not really supposed to ride that way, as my mum's forbidden it. She says it's too dangerous, but I don't really see why. It's a shame I'm in a hurry, really, because its not often I get to ride without a helmet - at least not when my mum's around. Without a helmet, you can feel the wind whistling through your hair and it just makes you feel freer. Less restricted, almost as if you're King of the Road. ...read more.

Middle

That was my boss. There have been fingerprints obtained on the car, apparently, and so now it's up to us to try and find the guy. The media have taken a huge interest in this case, which is the main reason why it's a big priority to my boss. I have no idea how I'm going to tackle this one. What can I do? I can't walk round the streets of Leeds fingerprinting everyone I see. I'm gonna have to really... Think. Think Joe, think! There must be some sort of explanation for all this. Maybe I've got the date wrong; maybe it's just a freak day in winter. I know, if I look at the TV, the news will have the date on the screen. Walking back through the hall to the lounge, carefully ducking to avoid the cobwebs, I have to stand really close to the screen to make the image bright enough to read. Right, Sky News says....... the 15th June. I'm right! It is summer! I wonder what's happened in the past few months; maybe that'll help explain. The only story I can see at the moment is some balding man reporting from a really dull, grey prison-like school. The camera pans round, showing the ground and walls. Slowly it dawns on me; that's my school! That's my... School. I never liked it much as a kid, the constant nagging and droning got on my nerves no end. Plus, being the fat kid never helped matters. Nowadays kids get more of a chance to bunk off - what with parents being at work earlier, and getting home later, never having time to talk to their kids about their day, how they are getting on etc etc. I had to go to the lad's school today, just to see if anyone knew if he had arguments with anyone, didn't get on with them. ...read more.

Conclusion

The last I remember I was sat in my chair, slumped, utterly depressed. I realise I'm standing up, and catch sight of a piece of paper left in the middle of the desk. Picking it up, I see it is a very well drawn picture of a man. A message left on the back reads: "This is the man you are looking for in the Green case. He is the one that was driving the car. Please, please find him". I don't know whether to believe this or not. You see, this is the man with the little boy, the man that owns the petrol station. He was the one that told us he'd seen the car with the number plate we were looking for. Funnier still, the handwriting looks unmistakably like mine. Ignoring that smaller detail, I immediately pick up the phone and call my boss. * * * * * * * * * * Having consulting my boss, we gather up five or six officers, and head for the petrol station. Arriving there now, I pray that this is the right guy, more for the family than anything else; so they can have closure. We send a couple of officers around the back, just in case. Entering the shop, we see the owner behind the counter. He sees us, then, registering who we are, jumps over the back counter and out through a door at the back. Lucky we had officers there, isn't it? * * * * * * * * * * After 4 hours of questioning, justice has been done. We convict the suspect on charges of manslaughter, after matching his fingerprints to the ones obtained on the car. It's now believed he'll get life in prison: the very least he deserves. After working non-stop on this case for 5 or 6 straight weeks now, I arrive back at my office and collapse heavily in my chair. I almost feel a soft breeze whistle past my ear, and I imagine I hear two faint words.... "Thank...you." ...read more.

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