System Boogie

It was a gray winter morning. The outsides were filled with fog and smog. He sat with his typewriter to type out the case to send to the editor. It was not a suicide and he knew it now. It's just been a few months since he left his job as an entertainment reporter at a magazine and became a crime reporter at this small weekly newspaper. He wanted to do some real journalism. The first day he joined the job the editor asked him "Do you know which two jobs have the worst scum on the planet." He said he was not sure but probably drug smugglers. The editor said he was not talking about criminals, but normal socially accepted jobs. Doctors, he spoke the first thought in his mind. The editor said "not actually, they still save as many lives as they take". Then, after a pause he said "it's lawyers and journalists", "they are the worst scum on the planet". He knew that the editor was right so he kept quiet. The editor had assigned him this case of rape and murder of a woman and he had been working on it since the day he had joined the job. He typed away on his computer, the police case had been closed as a suicide by shame, and no evidence linked to perpetrators. The DNA evidence had been tempered with and the real culprits were still scot-free. He, after an investigation of two months, was able to find out the truth and he and the editor had decided to publish the news with all the evidence directly without going to the police. He was writing on the laptop and suddenly his laptop switched off. He tried starting it again but it didn't power on. His mobile phone beeped, there was a message from his colleague from the office, "sir hanged himself at his apartment early morning," the message said. He felt an intense pain in his head, and heard a voice in his head which said, "so you think you can dance?"