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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - result of the DNA samples, police, investigator, shop, phone, mobile carrier network, DNA, murdered, Forensic, handkerchief.

While Gbenga wondered what to make of the facial sketch he got, the stranger who had called some days earlier called back and asked to meet with him at an inn called Oil-seed. He wanted Gbenga to ditch his car and use public transport because he felt that Gbenga was being followed. Gbenga drove to a market, parked his car and disappeared into the market. He meandered very fast through the market, holding firmly to his knapsack. He wound up in a cloth shop, bought some clothes for a change and disguised himself. He popped out on another side of the market, jumped on a bike and left for Oil-seed inn. When he arrived, he went into the bar and sat down; while he wondered whether to buy a drink or not his phone rang, and the same voice which called him earlier told him to come up to room 034. He had been taking a risk obeying the voice till that point, he didn’t know what he would encounter in the room and he had no firearm, only his knapsack. He braced up for the worst and headed for the room.

When he got there, he knocked and a man he couldn’t recognize opened the door for him. He went in, in spite of his fear. Inside the room he saw a familiar face, a former Assistant Superintendent of police, Edem Inyang, Itoro’s father. Gbenga calmed a bit when he saw him. “Gbenga I am the one who has been calling you. The man there is my private investigator. His name is Austin; he is a retired police investigator. I hired him to find out who really killed Monica Uzondu after my son Itoro, you knew him of course, was killed for what he found out. We believe that those whom you are working with are doing all they can to frustrate your investigation.” “Excuse me Sir, from what I know, Itoro was not murdered. He died of domestic accident or of his own carelessness at the lab”, said Gbenga.

“You are awfully ignorant of the sort of case you are investigating Gbenga. My son was murdered by someone in the police homicide unit for what he knew. There were some materials brought in from Monica’s murder scene which he analyzed and found out that their DNA results did not match with those of Monica or Abel. There were some other people on the crime scene that night. The samples he analyzed where a piece of flesh found under Monica’s baby finger and body fluid which he identified as saliva. Those samples and their forensic analysis results were never included or mentioned in police investigation report of the case. Someone made sure they disappeared. My son became suspicious of police handling of the case and mentioned it to me. After he got me a video of those samples and copies of the result of the DNA samples found on Monica, he was poisoned two days later. Someone knew what he was up to and killed him to keep their secret safe.” “Do you have copies of the results he gave you and the video he made?” “I have made copies for you, here they are.” “Thank you Mr. Edem.” “Don’t thank me yet, because what I have given you just now might kill you. When you have solved this case and found who killed my son and the others, then we can thank each other Gbenga.” Gbenga stuffed the materials into his knapsack and left.

Gbenga took a motor bike back to the market place where he parked his car. He was very excited with the progress he was making; he opened his car door and sat in. He shut the car door and it swung back loosely. He stepped out of his car and had a second look at the door, it had been tampered with. He grabbed his knapsack and fled from the car. He had hardly covered eight yards of distance away from his car when it exploded. What saved Gbenga was a scrap train coach behind which he ducked. His instinct was spot on; someone had planted an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) in his car. Around his car were the charred and torn body parts of passers-by who were caught in the explosion. Gbenga painfully watched the horror of human beings burning like animals. He couldn’t stand the sound of painful groans of those who had been injured by the explosion. Thinking he was still being watched, he made his way into the crowd and disappeared from the scene. He took another motorcycle and went to see the sketch artist, he was afraid that if he was followed to his gallery, then they may have harmed him.

When he got to his shop, he alighted and told the commercial motorcycle rider to wait for him. Inside the shop, he shouted the sketch artist’s name but there was no response. He searched around for him and then saw a blood trail on the floor, he followed it into the inner store and there saw the sketch artist in heap with his throat slit. He fled from the shop and called his wife, thankfully he got through to her, “Where are you Funmi?” “I am at home with the kids.” “I think someone is already around or on his way to harm you people. Take the children and disappear. Do you understand what I mean?” “Yes I do! But what is going?” “I will explain later, please make yourself and the children hard to find. Once you leave the house get another SIM card and send it to me, please don’t use your car, there might be a bomb in it; a bomb just detonated in my car.” “Jesus! Who is trying to kill us?” “Get a hold of yourself Funmi and do as I have told you. Please don’t go to any of our relatives or friends.”

Gbenga rang up the homicide unit and reported the crime he had seen, he persuaded the officer he spoke with to get him any information they may find on the scene. On his way to a hideout somewhere in a slum, Gbenga got himself a new SIM card. In his hideout he took his time to analyze all that had happened. While he planned on how to proceed with the investigation his wife sent him her new mobile phone number; and he called her immediately, “Listen to me darling, don’t mention to me where you are. Don’t say a word about it in this conversation. Are you in a place you consider safe and secret now?” “Yes.” “How are the children?” “They are fine, but are wondering why they can’t go play.” “Try as best as you can to keep them quiet. I won’t call you on this number anymore and don’t try to reach me on my number. I will stay in touch with new number okay?” “Okay.” “Don’t be afraid baby; it’s all going to be fine.” Gbenga hung up and immediately a colleague of his from the ICT unit called to inform him what they had found out about Samuel’s phone.

“Gbenga we have got in touch with Samuel’s mobile carrier network, from the data they sent to us, we can see that Samuel’s SIM went out of their cellular coverage the day he was killed. However, before it stopped communicating with their cell towers, it was switched off and moved to Vespa market; it was in that location that the phone went blank on the mobile carrier’s network.” “Thanks a lot, and remember you are not to talk to anyone about the phone. If you call me back you might not be able to reach me, but don’t worry about it, I will explain it later.” Gbenga couldn’t recall the phone make or specifications so he called Chima to find out, “Hello Chima, what was your brother’s phone make?” “Don’t bother about that Gbenga, it is no longer important, you need to come see this yourself.” “What is that Chima?” “I can’t tell you over the phone.” “Where do I meet you?” “I haven’t decided where yet, but I will text it to you.” “Okay I am waiting for your text message.”

After Gbenga had waited impatiently for answers from the forensic experts, he finally got the call he had been waiting for. He raced down to the lab; there he was informed that the DNA test of samples found on the handkerchief did not match with Abel; however, the blood sample on the handkerchief matched with Monica’s DNA. Tests on the semen found on the handkerchief gave them two different DNA results. Meaning that there was more than one person on the scene where Monica was murdered. The test results proved that Samuel was right when he claimed that there were two men who raped and killed Monica in a red Mercedes SUV. For Gbenga the news was a massive breakthrough in his hunt to find those who killed Monica. Gbenga persuaded the Forensic physicians to use the DNA samples available to them to generate a computer facial composite of the two DNA samples from the semen found on the handkerchief. While Gbenga was still with the forensic physicians, Chima’s text message came in, he read it and left. With Gbenga having lost his car and constantly changing his looks, it was going to be difficult for anyone to track him; and having ditched his old SIM, he had simply become a ghost. If he was to be tracked through his mobile device signal, it would be done through his friends at the police ICT unit; that meant they would tip him off before tracking him. For a moment he felt safer not having his car.

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