The Murder Rap (1)
They broke into the house at 4a.m. Blue lights flashing to wake the neighbours and sirens blaring. I will never live down the shame. Handcuffed, I was driven away for questioning.
“Why am I being arrested?” I asked continuously.
Finally, they told me. “We have a confession you made about murdering you’re wife. You might as well come clean and make it easy on yourself.”
“Murdering my wife! What’re you on about? I never murdered my wife?”
“Oh really,” the detective sneered, “Where is she then?”
“She’s at my mother-in-laws, for crying out loud. I never wrote any bloody any confession.”
The Murder Rap (2)
“Mr. Logan, I’m sure you’ve heard of the wiki-leaks scandals …”
“What about them?”
“Well, the bit about the police forces monitoring your phone calls and internet use … that bits true, though that’s off the record.”
“What’s that got to do with me murdering my wife?”
“You posted a confession on a social medium page,” explained the detective.
“Social media, Sarge.”
“That’s what I said …!”
The constable did not correct his superior officer a second time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I advised.
“You did write this hundred word story, did you not?”
The Murder Rap (3)
I stared in disbelief at the print out the Detective held out. It was a story I had posted on facebook.
“That’s just a drabble I wrote. I’m an author, you know.”
“That looks like a signed confession to me,” gloated the detective.
“What do you mean, signed confession? It’s a screen print! There’s no signature on it.”
“Ah! That’s the wonders of modern technology, ya see. This here is what we in the business call a digital signature. You see, when you post on the internet, we can trace it back to your P.I . address,”
“I.P.” corrected the constable.