The misunderstood witness

It all began in a small village unknown to many. Yorkshire was the name and, it was commonly known for the neighbourly dinner parties, weekly fishing trips amongst men and book clubs between women. 

It very well could’ve been these deeds that caused the small town’s population to surge. City folk began to flock to Yorkshire, and soon the features it was well-liked for started to become overlooked. Chic cafes replaced diners, quaint shops became high-rise buildings and, parkland shifted towards places at night that was to be avoided. 

Soon enough, the town unknown to many transpired into a bustling city, overpopulated with busy lives taking prevalence to neighbourly gatherings. 

It was in this very city that Santiago James—an inexperienced homicide detective—started investigating his first thread of crimes. It initially came as a shock when Lieutenant Roger McGroff assigned James to work alongside him to solve the murders that left Yorkshire uneasy and overly cautious. 

Though homicides weren’t far and few, the police department was certainly rattled when stumbling upon the horrid cases James and McGroff were looking into. Nightmares had started to trickle into James’ mind, images resurfacing of women considered victims. Women were massacred and left unidentifiable, throats slit and bodies mutilated.

With the help of Lieutenant McGroff, James filtered through many statements from witnesses, sifting through masses of reports he had to deduce from legitimacy or pleas for attention.

After countless witness reports declaring identical narratives of sighting a creature with dark, beady eyes, pale tufts of feathers and cut-throat talons, the citizens of Yorkshire were in a frenzy. 

Before Yorkshire was considered a city and simply a small town in the middle of nowhere, the people long believed that owls were wicked omens. Not only that but harbingers of death. And it was due to this, that the people were becoming crazed with hysteria.

McGroff’s rough voice brought James out of his thoughts, who was unsuccessfully trying to force pieces of a puzzle together. Yet it was difficult to do so when the only witness to a crime was an animal feared by its townsfolk. 

“James, we’re hitting the road.” McGroff sheathed his gun and cocked his head towards the back door of the station, urging his novice to follow. 

As the lively city whizzed past in a blur of colours, James looked to his superior, his dark eyebrows drawn in and fingers mindlessly tapping against the steering wheel. He knew not to disturb him since McGroff seemed to have taken this recent string of murders personally, appearing far-off in his own thoughts and agitation became a familiar face on him.

As the older man started slowing the car to a stop, James settled that it was acceptable to voice his question. “Why are we here?” 

 “Another homicide,” he grunted.

“Anything of importance I need to know about?” James asked, making quick use of his notepad and pen. 

“Same routine. Mutilated body found behind an apartment complex. No witnesses having seen the offender. And guess what else?” McGroff’s eyebrows wriggled as if in glee, waiting for his partner to respond. When all he received was a shrug of the shoulders from James, he proceeded. “A bloody owl…again!” 

"Surely you don't believe what everyone has been saying?" James asked, shaking his head at the ludicrous assumption.

McGroff's deep laugh ricocheted through the small car. "That a barn owl is bringing death to Yorkshire? I may be many things, but shit for brains ain't one of them. Now let's go." 

James chuckled a laugh before stepping out of the vehicle, allowing his persona as a detective to settle in until his stern face and hard eyes reflected back at him.

As novice and veteran strode towards the crime scene, whispering in hushed tones to not allow bystanders to overhear their speculations, James was once again suspended in horror. It was precisely how McGroff had described; a young woman, murdered and lying in blood mere metres from the back door to the apartment complex. Deep gashes sliced through her clothing and tore through to her delicate skin.

As James hovered around the crime scene, nothing particularly stood out. All surfaces were dusted for prints, and he knew the evidence collected had no chance in solving the identity of the perpetrator, just as it hadn't the countless times before this one. 

Soon, the days bled into weeks and, James was being worked ragged with what the town was calling Yorkshire's serial killer. 

And as each homicide case went before the last, each witness stated nothing was out of the ordinary. Each woman was simplicity incarnate. None wanted to harm them, all were fresh in the dating scene and the most bizarre finding…a barn owl being glimpsed at some point, whether before the murder or after it was considered a crime scene. 

Yorkshire police attempted to rein in the public's hysteria and theories, yet, it became a challenge when witnesses were more than eager to share their accounts of what happened with mass exaggeration. 

With this knowledge in mind, witnesses vowed that sighting a barn owl paralleled to death coming back with a vengeance.

Though this was true, in the fact that death was rapidly transpiring into a burial ground, James scoffed at the naivety of his people. So willing to redirect blame in the hopes that the true murderer would suddenly vanish. 

***

Sitting atop a snowy branch in a mass of trees was a watchful barn owl. She looked out towards the shadow of a man, who she believed to be a sorcerer. It had become her favourite pastime to observe his enchantment of transforming life into death. 

It was under the hazy moonlight, where the owl had first spread her wings to explore her surroundings, that she noticed him. A man wrapping his overcoat tight around himself and warily pushing his hat further down his face as he walked into a dark alley. 

As she curiously trailed him, she saw him encounter a young woman, to which they spoke for several minutes. That is until he pulled a sharp blade from his coat. He slashed it through the air until the oddly pale woman began to stumble forward and clutch her throat as crimson began to escape her.

The barn owl perched nearby, watchful of how the man carefully placed the lady behind a dumpster and swiftly vanished into the mass of people until he became one of many in a crowded street. 

Curious as to why the lady was unmoving when moments ago she was lively, the barn owl fluttered down towards the pavement. She tried to be cautious, however, as always, her sharp talons slashed through the fragile skin of the lady. Yet, no whimpers or movement came from her. 

How peculiar. 

Untold minutes passed, and it wasn’t until the owl heard a shriek from nearby that pulled her from her fascination with the unmoving female. 

A mass of bodies swarmed forward, wanting to see what the commotion was about. She fluttered away, high into the sky until the clouds swallowed her up. 

After that night, the barn owl followed the man that so effortlessly ended life. Each night as she shadowed him through low branches and balcony doors, she watched him. Watched him extract his knife, slash through the air and flee from the unmoving female. And each night, she would flock towards the body, entranced as to how blood continued to seep from her, yet she remained still. She always waited until someone noticed her, , not wanting the young girl to be alone.

She was beginning to observe most aspects of this man’s life and how it began to crumble before him. His wife unveiling his infidelity, and thus him murdering these girls in a plea to restore his already tarnished marriage. 

She watched how the strange man portrayed both murderer and investigator. 

He walked into the police precinct, swaggering towards a much younger male he deliberately assigned as his partner for his innocence and inexperience in the field.

In the shadows, she would observe how he re-entered the crime scenes, mocking grief and frustration as he looked down to the bodies he ended only a short time ago. 

Though this man was called many names—protector, defender, an officer of the law—she knew that Lieutenant Roger McGroff would never be identified as a woman slayer.