In Cold Blood: Creative Writing

There is always a story behind every murder, a motive, some form of justification. Every psychopath, every savage, every lunatic misanthrope has a reason to end a life. Whether it is vengeance, hatred, lust or just that sheer thrill of playing God, that desire of watching the world set in flames, ripping itself apart to pieces. All these years, that I have worked in the force, I have seen cases that have stirred my very beliefs, ones that have made me question my profession, my morals and my religion.

Crime can be punished through law, it can be resolved with retribution but it does not bring back the victims of the crime, it does not resolve the essence of the crime, it does not cure the crime and the wounds that crime has birthed. The Clutter family were the image of a sincere family, they were very well respected had a place in society. Mr. Clutter; the honorable father and husband, a man of the society, hanged and then disposed in a cardboard box with his throat cut out.

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Mrs. Clutter; a weak diseased woman, shot as she lay in her bed, separated from her misery. Nancy Clutter; the high school sweetheart, murdered like her mother and Kenyon Clutter; a shy 15 year old boy each one of them shot by a 12 gauge shotgun. I knew Mr. Clutter well… I would say that he was a passionate man who lived up to his morals and family. He reminded me of my own old man… I can only be half of the father they were… How I despise myself, loathe myself, curse myself for not being there for my boys.

Whether it be the school production or the baseball game, if I am not there…if I am not who I am supposed to be for them, how can I expect them to be fulfilled, to be happy, to be content with me and their lives? What this mass-murder of the Clutter family means to the people of Holcomb is beyond words, beyond restriction and beyond belief. I can only hope that the impact and the fear generated from the Clutter family murders is laid to rest. It is a tumor that is spreading inside all of Holcomb, the families, the residents and their souls.

But I am not here to show sympathy or be sorry for the loss of four innocent lives. I am here to resolve this and to find out what led to this and what this leads up to. I have become a monster, a likely one to those who committed this crime. This city, my city of which I am a guardian of is crippled with fear, plunging into darkness, its people unaware of those who are responsible…they believe nothing, they trust no-one, not even me. I have never been so determined, so driven and so distressed in my entire life.

This whole matter, this pandemonium is entirely in my hands. There are no loose strings in this case except a footprint and a rope which was used to tie up the victims. No witnesses, no evidence, absolutely nothing. Marie has been very supportive to me, but I cannot put anything else before this. I love her and I love my boys to my very last breath, the murders have created a new being in me, and I cannot put my family in the place of the Clutters even in my thoughts.

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