THE JOY OF COLOURS: #MYFRIEND ALEXA - RED

 RED

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It was a day of jubilation for the CBI, and for the police force of the city. Notorious serial killer, Kalia, had finally been nabbed after an exhausting hunt.

Kalia, who had murdered eight men over a period of twelve years, had terrorized the entire state. No one knew where he would turn up and since his weapon was an axe, he always left behind a scene covered with lurid streaks of blood. The forensic team would have to wade through rivers of red before they could pick up anything that could serve as a clue. Kalia also seemed to have a warped sense of humour. On the wall above where the body was found, he would draw a crude smiley with the victim’s blood, a sight which made the investigators irate indeed.

“It is almost as if he is mocking us, isn’t it?” AJ Sinha, the chief investigator, remarked, his eyebrows raised in disgust.

“Yes, Sir, no doubt about that! He thinks he is above us,” his second-in-command, Bakshi responded, as he delved around the body, using tweezers to gently place little objects in a plastic bag. His gloves were already drenched with blood.

There were no fingerprints of the killer anywhere. He swooped down on his unsuspecting victim, butchered him, and disappeared into thin air. The victims were all men in their late thirties who had mediocre jobs and seemed happy to remain where they were, without striving for promotions or raises. They were family men who seemed content to live in a sea of complacency.

It was the eighth victim’s body that provided the investigators with their first clue, a chance fingerprint that got away from the murderer. That fingerprint was checked against their records and finally it led to a nondescript criminal who had been caught in a petty robbery. His name was Kalia, and after his first bout in jail, he had vowed that he would never be caught again. When the murders began, he was methodical enough never to leave his fingerprints anywhere, but he was also diabolical enough to want to make a mark, without implicating himself. Hence, the crude smileys in red!

The investigators knew that they had a watertight case. There was enough evidence to send Kalia to the gallows where he would be hanged until death.

Govind Ram, the lawyer, prided himself on his sense of justice. Every criminal deserved a chance to be heard in court, and when he was appointed Kalia’s advocate, he made up his mind to do the best job ever. If he succeeded in proving that Kalia was not in his right mind, it would be a feather in his cap. After all, this case was making headlines all over, and he wanted to be right there, in the public eye.

Kalia was sitting in his cell, staring at the grimy wall, when Govind Ram made his first visit. As the jailor rapped at the bars, Kalia turned his head, and looked at the two men. His eyes were expressionless, and the lawyer felt a chill go down his spine.

“Hey, you, this lawyer has come to see you!” the jailor rasped.

Kalia’s eyes flickered for a moment, and he laughed, a strange, nasal laugh.

“I don’t need any lawyer. I can fight my own battles.”

“You will go to the gallows if you fight your own battles,” retorted Govind Ram. The nasal laugh came again and Kalia sized the other man up. Finally, he nodded, pointing to a worn-out chair in front of him.

Two hours later, they had finished their discussion and the lawyer felt that he had the upper hand. He had managed to convince Kalia that he would be hanged unless he had the proper person to argue the case for him. Kalia was chastened and he was willing to do anything to escape the gallows. Sinha and Bakshi approached Govind Ram, trying to convince him of how dangerous the prisoner was, but the lawyer took no heed of their warnings. This was a case that would bring him much publicity after which the sky would be the limit.

The sessions began and Govind Ram coached Kalia on what he was to do and say in court. Kalia proved to be a willing pupil and often, he astonished the lawyer with how well he followed his orders.

“Can I confess and say that I am sorry for my actions? Will they let me go then?” he suddenly asked one day.

The lawyer shook his head. “Your hands are stained with red. Eight times over, and each time an innocent has died. There is no way any jury will let you off, if they feel that you were sane when you committed the murders.”

Kalia listened gravely. There was remorse in his eyes. He had no idea why he had shed so much of blood. Maybe, there was a trace of insanity within him that had made him commit the murders.

Govind Ram was elated at the way the case was progressing. He had chosen the jury members with care, and Kalia had changed into a model prisoner. In court, he did exactly what he was told to do. After months of arguing and deliberation, the case was finally coming to an end. The night before the verdict was going to be announced, Govind Ram went to Kalia’s cell.

“Tomorrow is D Day, Kalia. After that, if the verdict does our way, you will be termed insane and will be put away in an institution. However, if the doctors find that you are improving, you could be out some day.”

Kalia folded his hands in gratitude. This was more than he had expected.

The next morning, Kalia was declared insane and sent to an institution recommended by the court. The headlines sang praises of Govind Ram and his victory. This was, indeed, a feather in his cap. When Kalia was taken away, he smiled at the lawyer victoriously.

Two days later, in the middle of the night, Govind Ram heard a noise in his kitchen and went to check.

The next morning, he was found in a pool of blood, a smiley in red on the wall above. Kalia, who had escaped from the institution, had struck again.

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