Law School Murders: Black Female Students

“That’s when the knife was found. Less than forty yards away from the body. What does this tell you about the angle of the murderer?”

The lecture hall remained quiet. Then a hand.

“Yes?” Kim asked.

“You can deduce that the killer was trying to get away and ditch the weapon haphazardly.”

“Is this true? Does anyone else have a conjecture? Thank you, Wendell,” Kim acknowledged.

In her mind she did lightning calculations. I know that sixty five percent of the people in this class are white males. Is Wendell the one behind the essay?

She plowed forward as a few more hands launched into the air.

“Yes, Angel.”

“I think the killer wanted the knife to be found. That’s why he did it so recklessly. He didn’t calculate whether to drop it by the body or hang onto it in his camper. He wanted to be detected.”

“If that is true, why did he choose to go to the camper first and not leave more evidence at the scene of the crime?”

No one ventured a guess and then the bell rang.

Kim looked down at her desk and didn’t say anything.

“Professor Jergensen,” Kloanne Shipley got her attention.

“I’m sorry, yes?”

“I just wanted to know when we’ll be able to see our grades for the semester.”

“They should be loaded on the SchoolBell app by the end of the week. You won't have to worry.” Kloann smiled like sunlight emitted from her teeth and the bling sound alarmed with a sparkle sign.

Kim had to gather her ideas and separate the fiction from the fact. She was still wearing her detective hat during this time. All of the facts had to fall into place for her to be satisfied. The essay was so well written aside from the obvious death threats. Kim was used to death threats and hate mail. She welcomed it from being in the public eye.

But someone right in her own classroom wanting her dead? It chilled her. She disallowed any overemotionalism. As she barred any leaps to dead ends or preposterous assumptions, she continued down the path of making herself safe. When she took the time to observe the case, she became even more resilient to bursting out in tears or dropping into a ball of discomfort.

As she took control of the situation, she called Maryallene, but Maryallene was calling her.

“I was just about to—”

“Are you prepared for this news?”

“I think so. What’s up?”

“The samples I extracted from the sheet of paper were actually from a black woman. Not a white guy.”

Kim automatically thought it was concerning a wannabe. In her class, there were eleven black females. She had to become a sleuth all over again as she nailed the detective cap to her skull. All she had to do was interview them. She hadn’t gone to the police because she didn’t want the scrutiny. She sensed that she could handle this herself. With Maryallene’s help she could keep this under wraps together. For all of the work she did in homicide, for her cases, for the law she was teaching, she simplified things when she was in class the next day.

“You may be a prosecutor or a defender. What you will learn is that you’re going to have to understand your role as an arbiter as well. Most judges were attorneys. You can tell about the murderers because you will know if your client or the defendant is guilty or not. That’s up to you to decide.” Kim panned through her black female students.