QR Code Murders: Greenville

Mansions and rolling green lawns painted the landscape. Brick standards from the Revolution stood in contrast to the corner bodega in Yawquisha’s mind.

“This is it. We have a call in one of the most beautiful sites in the country,” Kim announced.

“I’m no Jessica Fletcher,” Yawquisha admitted.

“That’s okay. We’re going to meet up with other detectives, too.”

With the amount of time they took to get to the house where a murder took place, Yawquisha had been arrested prepared. Her camera was fully charged and her cartridges were in order. She started rolling.

Kim shook hands with the other detectives. They looked younger than her. They had off the rack suits that looked tailored, however.

“I’m going to be in here for about forty-five minutes. Feel free to roam the grounds.”

Yawquisha took the invitation. She hopped out of the car and began shooting.

“It looks like an old money person has been laid down here. The topiary alone is exquisite. It’s something to see such greenery. All of the statues look Victorian. Whoever lived here knew landscaping and design or just picked the most expensive house on the block.”

“Hold on. There’s some blood speckled on the ground. Do the detectives know about this?”

Yawquisha connected with Kim. “You need to see this.”

Kim and the other cops moved to where the young woman stood.

“We could have seen this….” Detective Amro described.

“Well we might as well get forensics over here,” Kim called. As the senior detective on the scene, she could order them around like cattle. She didn’t view them as bovine as that but she could have.

“This is the moment where we can officially say a vlogger is now our lead evidence finder,” Detective Viggio said.

“I accept that. Not here’s your waiver,” Yawquisha retorted.

In the time they alerted the forensics team, she carried her camera and took shots of the body covered by a white sheet. The meat wagon was on its way so she wanted to get a shot of that. She wanted to capture just how final everything was, no matter what part of the city you happened to reside.

“How you can go out of Delaware on a stretcher after being a murder victim, it doesn’t matter your race or socioeconomic background.” Of the many images she could have taken by her lens, she focused on the work of the authorities.

By all standards, she had chosen to be driven to bring her thoughts to the pictures. She knew this was someone’s loved one. She had covered so many murders in the inner city, she had become numb to the amount of deaths.

In this realm the vibe just felt different. Yawquisha felt as if she had to take her own career into focus. The amount of images she has would be a great candidate for the number one videographer, editor, and narrator in the state, maybe in America.

Freedom to shoot the landscape brought her great satisfaction but not joy. She always remembered that a life had been extinguished. Where she went with the camera, She knew that she would have to bring to life someone who could have been a mother, a sister.

The victim was Sally Willingham. She had been a grandmother, actually. She had lived in Greenville her whole life. Few suspects had been available. She had a son who had fallen through the crevices. He had been in and out of prison on nonviolent crimes but he knew his mother had money. It was suspected that he may have hired someone to kill her to grab at the insurance money.