If you thought journals would be extinct, you thought wrong.
In fact, I was just hired for one. Take photographs before the authorities come, write a sobbing story about the victim, 75 bucks per article, take or leave.
Although the online news have come close to surpass the journals, they weren't able to match the folding papers containing extraordinary stories of tragedies. Letters of the Morning has been an example of that.
"Fast, persistent and efficient", that's what my boss said, "we gotta bring the news before anyone else and bring it with good quality".
The driver left me close to the viaduct where the train goes by. They just said there was a dead woman's body and I was tasked to take as many photos as possible from every angle. The photos would be immediately sent to the journal department.
I began to take photos of the viaduct in general before approaching the scene. There I stood shocked as I saw the corpse of a young woman. I caught a glimpse of her blonde hair, red thick lips, small round nose and horrified blue eyes, all printed in her now pale face. She was wearing a yellow dress and high heels, as if she just returned from the party.
My mobile vibrated and I could see a new message from my boss:
Hello, Edward. Thanks to your photographs, we were able to find the identity of the victim. She is Mary Hillinger, secretary of the Porto Branco bank.
I decided to search for her name in my mobile. I found her social media and as I scrolled through it, I could tell she was last night partying at the annual Grand Festival wearing that same yellow dress. The mobile vibrated again and a new message appeared from my boss:
She was last night at the Grand Festival and she seems to have been under heavy alcohol influence. It's probable she tried to return home alone, decided to walk through the train rails and fell thirty feet.
This was quite what I suspected. As I checked her wounds, there was no doubt it was due the fall, but with a closer inspection, I could see small wounds around her wrists and neck.
I notified my boss about it and in a few seconds I received a message back:
We don't know what happened at the festival. She was found dead recently by a witness who used to work with us. It's probable the wounds originated from last night's party.
I shrugged the feeling off and walked all the way to the upper part of the viaduct to take photos from an upper angle. The place was very dangerous and I couldn't figure out why someone would ever take that way. Mary Hillinger seemed to be a pretty decent woman and I don't think she would have got that drunk, let alone walk alone through this place.
I followed the train rails to the other side and when I stepped off it, I found a few footprints on the soft ground. There were high heels marks, but there were also other foot marks. I instantly began to take a photo of them when I received a new message from my boss:
Please, stop what you're doing right now.
"Why?", I sent.
I know what you're trying to achieve, but that's not something you should put your nose on. It's probable she was just hanging with some men. Anyway, our only job is to inform, not to suspect. You have already done a good job and I have just sent the driver to take you back.
I was left in disbelief. Everything indicated she was murdered, but by who? Why was my boss so adamant about it?
The driver had arrived. On the way back to the journal's department, I searched for more LOTM news, which included drowned guy at the pool, man ran over by a car, middle-aged woman founded dead hanging in a rope. There was something fishy about all of them, mainly the way Letters of the Morning got there first.
I arrived to the department and immediately went to my boss' room.
"Oh, hello Edward. Good work! I hope you write as good as you take photos...", congratulated my boss.
"Cut it off!", I said, "if she was drunk she wouldn't look so horrified!".
"Edward, I already told you..."
"Who is the witness? Why did he or she called us first and not the police?"
"The witness doesn't want to be identified, but he or she is pretty close to us..."
"So are the witnesses who found the drowned guy? The man ran over by a car? The woman who supposedly hanged herself?"
"Edward, you're being..."
"Do you happen to have murdered them?"
"Of course I didn't!"
"But you admit it was a murder, right?"
There was suddenly a silence, which I took as a guilty admission.
"You're right. No one nowadays wants to buy journals over getting online news for free. We needed to find a way to make them interested in our journals again. We figured to stay in market we needed rapidity, persistence and efficience. In order to do that, we had to arrive first and bring shocking tragedies, which, of course, included murders".
I was left astonished at the confission although I already figured it was them. I immediately went towards the exit door, but the light on the side turned red and the door shut locked.
"Before you leave, you may want to know the true story about Mary Hillinger", I heard my boss talking smoothly, "before you there was a middle-aged photographer-editor. He was our employee for ten years and he knew what this journal has become. He still complied long enough, but one day he decided to rat us out. He tried to tell the police, but the police didn't find the proof enough. Obviously we didn't allow his articles to go through and he was turned down by multiple other journals. He then asked his daughter for help, who had knowledge about the internet. We soon found out they were plotting to send this to the online news. The corpse you saw there was Mary Hillinger, the daughter".
I was left astounded at how far it went.
"Edward, do you remember mentioning your little son during your interview?", the boss continued, "Wouldn't he make an interesting news to..."
"Stop it! Enough! I'm doing whatever you want! Just leave my son alone!"
"Don't take me bad, Edward. I'm a mere pawn of this game and I'm in the same situation you are. Reporting the LOTM will only get us screwed", said the boss, who seemed to be pretty honest, "now, please, finish your article because we have to send the journal this morning".
I organized the plentiful of photos my boss selected in two columns. Between them, I started typing:
I
n the morning of Saturday September 16th, an anonymous witness reported finding a dead body by the side of the train viaduct.
T
hrough the photo the witness has sent, the reporters were able to identify the victim as Mary Hillinger, the secretary of Porto Branco Bank.
S
he was last seen at the Green Festival.
M
ary, in her social media, posted multiple photos of the party.
U
nder heavy alcohol influence, she opted to return home alone and walking on her high heels.
R
outing the train rails, she found the viaduct in front of her.
D
ark and alone in the night, she was under heavy risk of being assaulted or worse.
E
very minute counted, she needed to get back home as soon as possible and she couldn't get around it, so she took the risk of walking the viaduct.
R
ight as she took a misstep, she fell over thirty feet.
L
ong ago, Mary was accepted as the secretary of Porto Branco Bank.
O
ver the years she became popular and more outgoing, over her social media she racked up to four thousand followers.
T
he future for her was promising and everything pointed she would have accomplished her dream of becoming an actress.
M
uch to her dismay, her beautiful life ended so abruptly.
"
I
t's weird, when she came she was just a shy girl and I could see with my bare eyes her opening to the world",
S
aid her coworker.
G
rand Festival is an event that happens every year during the third friday of September and it's known for selecting potential artists.
U
nder 15, Mary already played Macbeth, Twinkling Star and Journey of the Year in small theaters.
I
n one of them, the original author took notice of her.
L
ast year she was present in the selection, but didn't pass.
T
his year she was offered another chance, but she turned down for unknown reasons.
Y
ou will be missed, Mary Hillinger.
Edward von Fark, Photographer-Editor of Letters of the Morning (LOTM)
Saturday - September 16th, 2021