It was a suicide.
The answers were all there in front of them.
He had tied a noose and had cut his wrists.
It was bloodier than imagined.
His friends were aghast because they never thought he’d do something like that. His family cried because he was always such a happy person. His death was so unexpected and gory. His boss was stunned because he was always such a pleasant worker who never seemed to have an issue.
Society mourned another nice guy who failed to see the beauty that is life.
The case was closed.
What everyone ignored where the insults and abuses his friends slurred because they couldn’t understand him at times. What everyone ignored were the screams and shouts of disappointed family members when he failed them. What everyone ignored was his public humiliation when his boss had a bad day. But it never mattered because after they were done they moved on.
Guilt ate him alive. Ate him from the inside, until there was nothing left.
The noose was a sign.
The noose was guilt.
The cops got the case wrong.
It was a murder.