I have discovered something about finding human remains…
Television lies.
In movies, detectives arrive dramatically, everybody wears sunglasses, someone removes a sheet, music plays but reality is considerably less glamorous.
Reality involves yellow tape, confused officers, forensic photographers, people shouting instructions, and one very embarrassed software engineer trying to disappear before anybody asks difficult questions.
Unfortunately…Life had other plans.
By the time the police arrived, the abandoned warehouse looked like an active crime scene. The skeleton had been carefully exposed, photographs were being taken from every imaginable angle and people in white protective suits moved around with practiced precision.
The atmosphere had changed completely. Yesterday it was an abandoned warehouse and today…It was evidence. I quietly began taking small steps backwards. Nobody was paying attention to me. Excellent, another three steps and…
“Kelechi!”
Wonderful.
I turned slowly, Zainab stood a few metres away, beside her…A tall police inspector wearing a navy-blue tactical vest, broad shoulders and calm eyes. The kind of face that probably made criminals confess before interrogation even started. Unfortunately for him…At that exact moment, he wasn’t looking at criminals, he was looking at his girlfriend.
“You stole a police file.”
His voice wasn’t loud, which somehow made it worse.
“I borrowed it.”
“You stole it.”
“I returned it.”
“After making copies.”
“I was going to bring those back too.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Around us, officers pretended not to listen, they failed miserably.
“I specifically told you those files were confidential.”
“And I specifically found the body.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it.
“You could have been injured or even worse died.”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You trespassed onto an active crime scene.”
“It wasn’t active until I got here.”
I almost laughed and I tried hard not to, at which point the inspector noticed me. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“And you.”
Fantastic.
He pointed.
“Come here.”
I briefly considered running, then remembered he was a police officer, probably not my smartest option. I walked over instead.
“I’m Inspector Musa Dantata.”
He extended a hand which I took and shook. Firm grip and professional.
“So…”, He folded his arms. “What exactly were you doing inside that warehouse?”
Before I could answer, Zainab jumped in, “I found him there.”
“I can hear him answer for himself.”
She folded her arms too, “I was helping.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Their relationship fascinated me. They argued like people who had been together long enough to know exactly how far they could push each other.
Musa looked back at me, “Your turn.”
I smiled nervously, “I was…” Good question. What exactly was I? Following a ghost? “…looking around.”
Silence.
He stared.
I stared back.
He waited.
I hoped additional words would magically appear, they didn’t.
“Looking around.”
“Yes…”
“In an abandoned warehouse.”
“Correct.”
“On the same morning someone discovered human remains.”
“…yes.”
He nodded slowly, “Interesting coincidence.”
“I’ve been having a lot of those lately.”
He didn’t smile, “How did you know about this place?”
Before I could invent something, Zainab spoke again, “My informant.”
Musa turned to her, “You mean my office.”
She looked away.
“My filing cabinet.”
Silence.
“My confidential cold-case files.”
She sighed dramatically, “It wasn’t the whole cabinet.”
“You stole evidence.”
“I borrowed history.”
“You committed an offence.”
“I committed journalism.”
One of the officers nearby coughed suspiciously, probably hiding laughter. Musa looked as though he was reconsidering every life decision that had brought him to this relationship.
“I visited his office two weeks ago,” Zainab admitted, “I was waiting for him and he was taking forever. So I looked around.”
“That is called snooping.”
“I found an old file. The disappearance of Chief Olumide Adewale.” Her voice softened, “It was everywhere fifteen years ago. I remember seeing clips online, the wife, children, the appeals and nothing happened.”
She shrugged, “I thought… maybe if I solved it…” She smiled weakly, “…I’d finally have a story people would take seriously.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. I understood, she wasn’t chasing fame. Rather, she was chasing a beginning, every career has one story that changes everything. She believed this would be hers.
Then…I saw him…Pa Olumide, standing behind the forensic team watching silently. He looked different. Yesterday he had seemed frustrate, but today…he looked exhausted. There was sadness in his eyes unlike anything I’d ever seen. He wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at the skeleton. His skeleton.
The realization struck me so suddenly that I forgot where I was. Forgot who surrounded me and forgot every sensible reason to remain quiet.
“His name is Pa Olumide Adewale.”
The words escaped before I could stop them. Everybody turned but I continued.
“That’s his body.”
Silence.
“You don’t have to spend weeks identifying him.”
I pointed towards the excavation site, “He’s the man from the missing persons case.”
Nobody spoke and then Musa frowned, “And how exactly would you know that?”
I looked at Pa Olumide, he nodded once. I looked back at Musa, “I just…know.”
Several officers exchanged glances, one actually stopped writing. Musa studied me carefully, not with ridicule but with curiosity. Then he spoke, “Mr. Nwafor…Unless you have evidence…please don’t interfere with an active investigation.” He turned back to Zainab, “As for you…We are not finished.”
The argument resumed immediately. Meanwhile, two forensic officers carefully lifted the weathered document folder Zainab had discovered earlier.
“Hey!” She immediately stepped forward, “Careful! That’s mine.”
A forensic officer looked at her, “No. It’s evidence.”
She reached for it but Musa gently caught her wrist, “Zainab…”
“I found it.”
“…And now it’s part of a homicide investigation.”
“But…”
“No.”
She sighed dramatically.
I looked from the folder…to the skeleton…to Pa Olumide and then back to Musa. “You really don’t have to start from scratch.” Everyone ignored me. I tried again, “The victim is Chief Olumide Adewale.”Still nothing. “The suspect…” I hesitated, “…was someone very close to him.”
That got Musa’s attention. He turned slowly, “What did you say?”
I swallowed, I couldn’t exactly explain *the dead man told me.*
“…look at the people closest to him.”
Musa’s expression changed, not belief, not disbelief either, professional interest, “The people closest to every victim are always investigated first.” He replied calmly, “So unless you know something the original investigators missed…you’re not telling me anything new.”
Fair enough.
I couldn’t argue with that.
I sighed, “I tried.”
I turned to leave.
“You aren’t leaving.” I froze, Musa pointed towards one of the police vehicles, “Both of you.” He looked at Zainab, “Get in.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I do.”
“I actually have somewhere else to…”
“No.”
His partner, who had been quietly observing everything from the driver’s seat, finally spoke for the first time. “Inspector…I’ll drive.”
Musa nodded, “Good.” Then he looked back at us, “You’re both coming to the station.”
Zainab groaned dramatically, “I knew dating a policeman would eventually become stressful.”
Musa didn’t even look at her, he kept his eyes on me, steady and searching, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
As I climbed into the back seat beside Zainab, I glanced through the rear window one last time. Pa Olumide was still standing beside the shallow grave, watching us leave. He slowly raised one trembling hand, not to wave. He was pointing, past the grave, towards the old document folder now resting inside the forensic evidence van.
His lips moved. This time…I could almost make out the words.
“Don’t let them lose it.”
The evidence van pulled away in a different direction from ours, and for reasons I couldn’t explain…I suddenly felt that whatever was inside that old folder…was even more important than the body they had just found.