diello | MURDER

So this happened last week, across the street from my house.

Last Wednesday evening, I just finished podcasting an episode of Animatic Attack with my awesome co-hosts Nick and Justique (that's right, I am shamelessly plugging in a MURDER post). When we finished up, I decided to take a much-needed nap. I meant to only get about an hour, but Charles robbed me of that when he rushed in the door and said "DUDE, WHAT IS HAPPENING OUTSIDE?!?"

I ran to the living room window that looks out over our street and saw cop cars, an emergency response truck, a giant Command truck, crowds, press, news vans, cameras, and police tape circling the whole stretch of street!

I bundled up and bolted out the door to the corner where the cameras gathered. I asked the guy from Channel 10 what's up and he pointed to the second house on Rowley St. "Something's going on in that house," he replied. "But they're not saying anything. They've just said there's a 'suspicious condition,' and who knows what that means." I kept an eager eye on the house, looking in every window the best I could from the other side of the tape that blocked the street. I saw search teams pass by every window in the house, but I wanted to see something, to shout, "There! In the attic window!" and have others crowd around from my call (so dramatic, me). But nothing came about, and the cold really started cutting in. After about a half-hour of watching the police scoot in and out and around the place, I went inside and declared, "it's probably a drug den or black market or something."

In the morning, I walked among the spectators for a couple minutes before heading to work. Rumors bounced all over: serial killer, drug dealer, prostitution ring. Mostly serial killer. Because the news crews began preparing to live-feed that after an all-night search and stake-out, human remains were found in the back yard.

And I have to spend the whole day at work?

For the next two days, I scanned the news sites every hour as more and more information came across: They suspected the identification of the body, they contacted and interviewed the brothers and mother of the deceased, they continued to search the home, they revealed that a psychiatrist owned and worked from the house, more rumors of more bodies, abandoned dogs in the house, K9 units, CSI, drugs, medical examiner...

The medical examiner finally determined the identity of the body was in fact Matthew Straton, age 31, missing since late October. A wash of sickness waved over everyone who saw Dear Matthew staring back at us all from the very corner we gathered, stapled to a pole on a Missing Person poster. Right there, just a few yards from his body.

Photos flooded in on the news sites, many taken from in front of my house, even right on my stairs. The house sat around the corner, but the yard where the owner lazily buried Matthew spread out right across the street from my home, on the other side of a 3-car garage. I could see most of the yard from my attic window. My home is in photos taken of the scene from the other side. It's eerie. I live in the Park Ave neighbourhood. This sort of thing happens the next block down or the next town up. But not here. It's an eye-opener. This can really happen anywhere.

People commented online, shooting their mouths off and spread rumors started by who-knows, and things got out of hand. But those of us with brains already googled the address to figure out who is this Hannibal Lector Doctor, and began asking "Where the hell is Dr. William T. Lewek?!" A day later, news finally plastered the doc's nightmarish face all over the net and tv, and he's been charged with Possession of a Controlled Substance, and Tampering With Evidence.

Got the drug part right, at least. The police found 17 bags of crack/coccaine in the toe of his shoes. And he admitted to moving Matt's body from the 3rd floor of his home to the back yard, where he just threw a little dirt, leaves, debris, and a freakin' lawn chair over him. So degrading. So lazy. I can't believe we never smelled the rot of 2 and a half months gone by.

I stood around in the late afternoon, listening to news reporters interview the next-door-neighbours. I watched the police bring box after box of evidence out to the Command truck. And I peeked out my grimy attic window to watch the CSI continue to scan the yard for more evidence, dropping tags every few moments.

Another day (late for work due to news vans and cop cars peppered everywhere on the block), and the sites told me they're bringing in a Cat (for those who don't know, that's short for Caterpillar - huge the yellow digging machines), as sonar scans picked something up deeper down. I wanted to see it in action, but I had to work late, and by the time I got home, they already left.

Everybody already left.

Snow dusted the streets and driveways, and I saw no signs any madness had taken place here at all. They didn't find new evidence after the dig. The police tape was removed, the cops unblocked the streets and side entrances, everyone left, and everything fell silent again, like I dreamed it all.