Foreword

This is an investigation report based on a series of events named 1221 homicide. It

contains all the related evidence, including the diaries, newspapers, and relevant
articles. We integrate this important information to remind offspring of one kind of
possible way to dispose of a similar serial murder case and to record one severe social
harmful event.
Newspaper:

Other newspapers:
Dec. 26th, 2009
Recently, many neighbors contributed information to us that the terrible stink of
something rotten overwhelmed residents. After searching, we found two corpses of
wild cats and one dead dog in the waste disposal area at Silver Canoe way. Here we
want to warn our dear residents to take good care of your pets and be alert to the
strangers who attempt to get close to them.

Dec. 27th, 2010

The terrible stink of rotten carrion again took place in the town. After searching, we
found several corpses of animals in the waste disposal area at Silver Canoe Way,
indicating that similar events as the last year happened again. We made a hypothesis
that someone was doing a sacrifice in our town. To maintain the harmony in our
lovely neighbor, we appeal over stopping the harm and for other residents, please take
close care of your pets.

Dec. 25th, 2012

We are sorry to hear on such a holy day that a 9-year-old girl called Emma missed.
She was last seen at the central park on the dusk of Dec 24 th, dressing in a white
sweater with a red furry scarf and black trousers. If there is any information, please
contact the local police station as soon as possible.

Musical Articles:

Dec. 22nd, 2014 A policeman’s diary (Allen Bush)

We received a call at 18:03. A girl with a trembling voice said her friends died on a
waste tree farm near her own house. We immediately rushed there but find nothing
important, except a strange lack of snow and some muddy liquid. It has already been
dark, which made us difficult to search all around. Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve,
and almost all my fellows don’t want to waste time on a small girl’s call, but my
intuition tells me it will not be so simple.

I used to know a little boy in this Maple Town (homeless boy, I think) several years
ago when I was not a cop yet. but one day after, I’ve never ever seen him. Everyone
around comforted me that maybe he was not homeless at all, or he was taken by his
parents to another city. Was it true? It’s been such a long time that I cannot find any
information about him.

I decided to see the girl tomorrow.

Dec. 22nd, 2014 23:56 Jane’s diary

I can’t sleep. Pandora died. Today, I went to her home sitting in the northeast of the
town, near a small forest, to find her, when she had been absent from school for two
days. When I found her, she lay in a thick blanket of white snow in a blank area of the
forest, with red and black blood enveloping most of her body. Magnificent black roses
bloomed everywhere, on her face, her chest, and her abdomen. I could hardly
recognize her for the severe damage, but it was the girl who was still alive yesterday
morning, dressing the same. That morning, she stood in front of me, smiling, and said,

“Honey, you know what? It’s approaching! I am going to find out the truth. Truth is
important. Yep, and also interesting. Please help me ask for leave in today’s class! See
you tomorrow!”

Having not heard my answer, she ran away. I only paid little attention to her words,
for she was always like this, doing whatever on a whim.

But now, those black roses evilly grumbled to me that she has been dead for at least
several hours. I wondered why my lovely girl lay here. I wondered who did such
things, so I kept gazing at the corpse. However, it couldn’t give me any answers. I
collapsed on the snow-covered ground, blank-minded, snow flurrying, rotating,
dancing in the air then slightly landing in her cold body and also landing in my hair.

Abruptly, the sound of the piano dragged me to reality. Following the sound, I found a
smartphone wrapped in a small white furry purse, which was hidden in a mess of
weed under the snow. It’s hers. Frantically, I seized the phone, pressing the button
several times to stop it. In a trance, the purse slipped into my bag. Now it is on my
desk.

Of course, I have checked her phone, but I am still confused. It’s several pieces of
news about the missing children, and, several pieces of piano songs? What’s the
connection between those two things? And there’s an old photo in which 9-year-old
Pandora and a little boy of her age smiling together at the camera. They’re in a garden
of…of someone’s house? The background is blurry.

Shaking the little white purse, a key with girlish hair elastics tinkled down the ground,
which was well hidden in the small interlayer. For an instant, I recognized it was the
key to her house. I gulped, grasping the key, piling it into my school bag with my
hand sweaty and cold.

She was my best friend, but did she treat me equally? I was not sure, for she didn’t tell
me anything about what she was doing. It was clear that she was investigating
something alone recently, but…how could..? I thought she might just want to escape
the boring school life as she always said, “I have no motivation to create.” I knew she
once dreamed of being a pianist, but I never heard her play or compose any piece of
the song.
I called the policemen as I got home at about 6 p.m., but a few hours later they told
me they found nothing at all, and they even suspected I cheated on them. The phone
call brought me out in a cold sweat. What if the murderer found I had seen the corpse?
What if he knew I had got her smartphone? It seems like the policeman said anything
else, but my mind was down that I could hear nothing.

Out of the window, the snow is coming down in big heavy flakes. Will she feel cold?

I am trembling in the dark corner, with curtains tightly drawn and windows shuttered.
Hope the night will be tranquil.

Dec. 23rd, 2014

Yesterday night happened nothing, but I am in a terrible mood. If Pandora is still

alive, she would be excited to solve such kind of event.

During the lunch break, two policemen came to school to find me, but just for some
insignificant questions. Being dubious with my answer, since there was no reliable
evidence, they left here after some casual comforting words. It seemed that they had
no interest in the “joke” of a normal 18-year-old girl, especially at such an end of the
year when everyone was going to enjoy the coming Christmas day.

After school, I went to her house. Pandora lived in a shabby worn apartment with her
grandmother who died last year. So now she was alone. The shabby building seemed a
bit scary under the cloudy sky. “Clatter,” the clear sound of the lock echoed in the
empty corridor. Looking around to ensure no one was around, I opened the door,
stepping in. A scent belonging to her overwhelmed me with a feeling of sudden
sorrow. I was nearly scared to scream, but soon it became a huge void and a little
resentment.

As soon as I entered her room, my sight was filled with the piano scores, old yellowed
newspaper, and the uncountable number of marks. And, a letter, in the middle of her
dusty desk.

Before reading, dispersing my nervousness, I carefully went through all the

information hung on the bulletin board, taking photos one by one. The whole room
was silent except for the sound of rain beating the windows. It started to rain heavily
outside.

The letter was attracting my attention. I think I should not read it here. But…

“Dear my best friend,

Where am I? When you see the letter, where am I? I’m so curious. But never mind,
truth is dangerous and ruthless. I’ve already been well-prepared. Hope the letter won’t
be seen by them.

My friend, I am sorry to leave you on such a horrible mission. You could decide
whether you are going to carry on the absurd plan or quit now. If you choose the
latter, please leave here now and throw the key away as possible as you can. I will
never blame you.
Ok, now we are the “accomplices”.

Actually, I had a little brother called Bingo about seven (here are the small words:
2007) years ago yet we are not related. He was homeless, always in a tattered brown
coat and badly fitting shoes, but he was a witty boy whose eyes were always dotted
with light. We always met at dusk before a high white wall of a beautiful garden,
where always came the voice of the piano.

Later, I knew that the garden belonged to a piano teacher and he was having a class
for a high-school boy called Eric every 16:30-18:00 the time we enjoyed their songs.

Both Mr. Francis and Eric treated us very well. On a rainy day, they even invited us
indoors to get out of the rain. I thought things will go on and never come to the end.

But…”

“WHAT DID YOU FIND?” a man’s voice broke the silence. I was completely
shocked that my heart had nearly stopped bumping. I couldn’t utter one word. I
wanted to escape. I wanted to run my legs but they just kept trembling and rooted to
the wooden floor.

I stared at the bulge of his pants on the right, without a word, hiding the letter.

“You don’t remember me?” He broke the silence for the second time when I was
considering if there is the necessary to leap out of the window, and even ready to
move my right leg.

Hearing that, I first looked up at his face, a bit familiar. One of the policemen came to
me today’s afternoon? Why here? He Traced me? My nerves twisted together to push
me to clarify the information.

Abruptly, both the man and I heard the footstep with the creaking sound of the rusty
steel stairs. He gave me a quick glance then rushed to me silently, grasping my left
wrist and moving quickly to the little room next to her bedroom. Fortunately, it’s a
utility room where placed many sundries and useless furniture. We hid after two big
cartons, holding our breath, waiting for the coming visitor.

He stopped in front of the gate, and sounds like he picked the lock…

“Damned bitch…” He cursed in a low voice, stepping to the only room with the door
open, Pandora’s bedroom. I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth, a mixed feeling
over-powering my mind including horror but also the anger.

The sound of rain and blowing wind suddenly became louder with the sound of riving
the paper. I guessed he opened the window and try to pretend those old newspapers
and marks to be destroyed by the bad weather.

He didn’t stay here too long, maybe because he was afraid of being suspected by the
onlookers. I don’t know. But he must know something about Pandora’s death, or…he
was the one who…

“Sorry for frightening you. I’m Allen Bush, a policeman.” The man squatting next to
me introduced himself, trying to shake hands with me.

“Why did you trace me?” Ignoring his kindness, I asked directly.

He explained a lot, but I still cannot completely trust him. At last, he told me about the
boy he knew seven years ago, and it was he that made a request to Mapleye, the local
magazine to publish the news to find the boy called Bingo, the same name as
Pandora’s little brother.

Allen said again that he wanted to help me.

Well, I decided to believe him temporarily, and maybe momentarily. It depends on

him.

Let’s back to the letter Pandora left me. After the “But”, she told me Bingo was
disappeared after the day she left the Maple Town (She moved the house with her
mom in the winter of 2007), and many years later when she came back and
commenced to research what happened 7 years ago, she found some unexpected
information.

Several newspapers like the one I pasting on the first page of the diary, and others also
published some strange information which talked about the dead pets and the missing
children. Including Bingo, the related newspaper we sifted was on the years 2007,
2009, 2010, 2012, and 2013.

All of the news has one thing in common: they all happened around Christmas day,
before or after.

And in Pandora’s letter, she went on,

“To find out what happened, firstly, I went to visit Mr. Francis, our piano teacher
seven years ago. He now is a piano teacher at Maple high-school, but it’s strange. He
became completely different. Go to see him, and you will understand what I mean.”

I told Allen and commanded his company. We promised to meet after school
tomorrow, he as my brother, together with me to visit Mr. Francis, pretending to
discuss the college in the music field.

Dec. 23rd, 2014 Allen’s diary

I met the girl. She was strong and independent more than I thought. I didn’t trace her
on purpose…Anyway.

I am not sure whether that man is the murderer, but he must know something about
the death of Jane’s friend. I have already reported my experience to the upper class,
hoping that they will act.

After the man left, I tried to follow him but failed. However, he still left the
information for us to target. He possibly didn’t know there were two people in the
house, so he didn’t conceal his footprints. After researching, we confirmed that it’s a
kind of fashionable sneaker populating among high-school students, and its owner is a
man being about six feet tall and 70-80kg.

So, where is the corpse…?

Tomorrow I will company with Jane to visit that piano teacher.

Dec. 24th, 2014 Jane’s diary

Today is the last day of this term, as it were, the last chance for us to see him.

When we were going to knock on his office’s door, a middle-aged lady came out. She
seemed interested in our visit thus providing some extra information about Mr.
Francis after we ended our appointment. Thanks to her, I felt we have made a huge
stride. We found a musical magazine called Musical Times edited by the lady’s
belonging group. And after the meeting, the first article mentioned Valtteri Francis has
been found by us (also on the first two pages), which was published in 2008, the year
after the event happened... BTW, the lady looked a little disappointed after her
appointment with Mr. Francis. It seemed like he meets some difficulties?

A RECORD for today’s appointment with Valtteri Francis:

He looks really…quite normal or honest, out of my expectation. We talked a lot about
my set topic. He answered almost all my questions about music in detail and
seriously, but it was still subtle as if I was searching the information on the internet
instead of chatting with a man. At the end of our communication, I mentioned
Pandora, and that was the first time he let his own emotion out.

“Mr. Francis, do you know Pandora? She is my friend. Both of us wanted to be

admitted to the musical college. Do you think…ummm…she has the ability in
piano?”

Hearing the name, he soon became strange. He kept blinking, staring at outside of the
window, then suddenly sprang to his feet, being unaware of the tumble of his chair.
“Pandora…” He murmured in a low voice, “Her hands were suitable for the key…”

I’m not sure whether I misheard. “What? Excuse me, Mr. Francis?”

He seemed to hear nothing, “Was she talented…? Definitely…”

I thought it was definitely strange. Allen stepped ahead, patting his shoulder, and said,
“Mr. Francis? What do you mean?”

“Ah----I’m sorry, I don’t know her. Err, I meant I knew her but I don’t know whether
she was talented in the musical field.” I thought he was nervous.

“So, you know her? I haven’t seen her for a few days…Do you know some related
things?” It’s strange.

“Hah? HER MISSING has anything to do with me??? RIDICULOUS!”

“We never considered that, but…She was missing? I thought she may be just… have a
cold or something?” I seized the contradiction in his words, keeping asking.

“Sorry, Mr. Francis, this pair of shoes, was it yours?” Allen interrupted our
conversation. He squatted in front of the shoe rack, pointing to one of the muddy
sneakers, asking.

“It’s not mine. It’s my student’s.” He collapsed in her seat, signing. “If you have
nothing important, please leave me alone. Today…”

Then something unexpected took place. Allen suddenly fished out his police license,
and seriously commanded, “Could you please allow me to take this pair of shoes
away? I suspected that the shoes are the significant evidence of a homicide case that
happened recently.”

I clenched my twist, waiting for his answer anxiously. In fact, Allen has no right to
force him, for we have no evidence at all. We are gambling.

The air being still, at the time I thought we will fail, abruptly he opened his mouth but
said nothing, and again. He tried several times, using his two elbows to prop his body,
managing a subtle smile, “Do as you please. But it’s not my shoes.”
Afterward, Allen explained his discoveries about the footprints to me. It’s the similar
shape, its dirt and wet, as well as his strange reaction towards Pandora that arose his
suspicion.

Another important thing is that, according to the lady from Musical Times, I found
many other articles that mentioned Valtteri Francis. The magazine of the years 2008,
2011, 2013, and 2014, all published his masterpieces newly composed. By chance, I
put all clues together. Surprisingly, I came to realize that all his works were published
one year after the “sacrifice”, except the year 2009. Would it be a coincidence?

Dec. 24th, 2014 Allen’s diary

I believe there has been a significant development in the case. Today, using some
small tricks, I got a vital exhibit from the related witness (or the suspect). And after a
set of examinations, we can almost confirm that it belongs to the man who left the
footprint in the corridor out of Pandora’s house. But it’s not suitable for Mr. Francis’s
feet. He seemed scared. His psychological condition was so vulnerable that I could
hardly regard him as a murderer…

The arresting warrant will be proved soon.

Nov. 29th, 2007 Valtteri Francis’s diary

My dream would be broken as the time elapsed, as my youth passed. My inspiration is

dying out, desperately. Recently, I worked as a piano teacher to make a living. Most of
the time, two little children will play around in my garden and listened to my class
with the low fence between them and my house. They always behaved jovially. I
enjoyed them as my fans sometimes, but also, hate them. Why they are always so
happy. Why do they always make noises to interrupt me? I cannot understand. Maybe
I envy their amount of time. Is it too absurd that, as an adult, I feel jealous of those
kids?

Dec. 20th, 2007

Today the girl was absent. Where did she go? Whatever, there is nothing to do with
me. That dirty boy appeared there more and more frequently. He does be an eyesore.
Why does he always look so hopeful? A homeless! How!

Dec. 21st, 2007

What happened? I did nothing. I saw a boy with the crystal ruby standing by my
piano, smiling at me. I must do the correct thing. Eric believes me. He helped me

Dec. 21st, 2007 Eric’s diary

I witnessed it all. That nasty kid was eventually killed by Valtteri by chance. By
chance, not on purpose. My poor Valtteri. I will be there for you and never tell others
any words about the incident. It’s the secret only belonging to us.

Valtteri, I love you more than anything else. Our relationship will be the most
stubborn thing in the world that has nothing to do with the identities or the sex. I will
never forget it’s your piano that saved me from my pian and the damned world.

The death of that kid could have what kind of chemical reaction in your mind? Why
did you poke his two eyes so fiercely that everywhere was the crimson blood and
muddy brains? This must be what people called aesthetics of violence. By the way, I
am delighted to see you release the stress.

I will be there for you, eternally be there for you.

Dec. 29th, 2007 Valtteri Francis’ diary

It’s a terrible Christmas. I think I will never get the benediction from Jesus.
I kill a boy.
It’s a pure soul.
I can still smell the stink of blood and flesh, but his corpse has already been well
buried.
But it’s not done by me. I couldn’t even stare at him directly. How could I…
I should feel guilty.

But my finger cannot forget the touch of the soft and warm flesh. Out of my
expectation, miraculously, my finger was yearning for the keys in a strong desire.

May. 25th, 2008

My composition has been published! I clearly know that the origin of my song is that
little boy. I didn’t mean to do it… I’m sorry… (here has the smudge of the ink and the
tear)

But your death is worthy!

Dec. 24th, 2009

My finger is yearning for flesh… I knew it was wrong to make the living things dead.
But is it a way to release their souls from this terrible world?

I shouldn’t kill the kid again. It’s immoral.

I know it. I know it. I know it. I know it. I know it. I know it.

Maybe I could find some counterparts. Some animals? Yeah, yeah.

Dec. 23rd, 2010

I wasted a whole year. What is my sin? The reason must be the amount. The amount
of the soul is not enough for God! I must sacrifice (some red marks) more to him!!!

Dec. 25th, 2011

Again, a terrible Christmas. But I think I must control my desire.
Have a try! My brave Valtteri! You can do it without sacrificing anything!

Dec. 24th, 2012

Thanks to Emma. Thanks for your requirement to me. I will help you to find your
home directly, your true home, a purer home.

……

Jan. 2015 Mapleye

…
After interrogating and careful examining, the police found the remains of three
missing children in the murderer’s garden and the basement. And in the murders’
fridge, we found two arms with severe scars and unwounded hands, which belong to
an 18-year-old girl, the oldest among all the victims.

As the living, we offer our sincere condolences to all the decedents.

…
More information is still in investigation and interrogation.
…
It’s a serious malicious event. We deduce that the murderer has plural companions
because hitherto, all the proofs informed us that Mr. White (nickname) was in a
terrible mental condition that can’t scheme a murder, including handling the corpse.

Now we will offer the reward for information about the accomplice on the run.

Name: Eric Watson Photo:

Gender: Male
Height: Around 6 feet
Weight: 70-80 kg
Others: He used to be a student of the murder, and was suspected to have an intimate
relationship with the murderer.
If any information could be provided, please contact the police station.
The End