[Case of H. K. Fillian supervised bu Detective Bale-Hunter Willston Charles, closed on the 16th of March 1994.]
[The following excerpt was extracted from the diary of the H. K. Fillian after an authorized search of his house, positioned under a stack of waste paper, after the discovery of his dead body, reasoned to be suicide by drowning. With the information provided within J. A. Weist was proclaimed to be dead by homicide. It is possible that Weist was Fillian's sister's boyfriend. However, there is no birth record nor identification of Fillian's sister, as Fillian's family was not registered in the national registry. There have been contradictory remarks from Fillian's parents: both, when they were alive, claimed that they had one child. Yet, fragments of a torn picture were found in a deposit bin that seemed to reassemble into a family photo with Fillian, his parents, and a female child that deeply resembled Fillian's mother, seeming to be larger in frame to Fillian. Authorities are under progress to uncover the identity of this girl. Fillian's mother has chosen to remain anonymous.]
11 Mar 94
He's hidden. I've done it well. I've finally rid of the last loose thread. I sit here at the kitchen table with the lamp low, pen in hand, and I keep turning it over in my mind. J. A. Weist. The name tastes like rust. He thought he could slip into our world, into her world, with his cheap cologne and his promises. He didn't understand the rules. She was never his to touch. She was mine long before he ever laid eyes on her. She was mine from the first time she crawled into my bed at twelve, whispering that the world outside was too loud and I was the only quiet place. I keep asking myself why it felt so easy. One phone call about "settling things like men" and he walked right into the factory like a lamb. The pipe was cold in my hands. The sound when it met his skull was wet and almost musical. Then I waited hours and hours. I watched the flies arrive like tiny black priests, blessing what I'd done. A beautiful calm and pure clarity washed over me. Is this what they mean by fate? I learnt about it last week, about Oedipus stumbling around blind, screaming at the gods. I still laugh when I think about it. He ripped his own eyes out because he couldn't stand the truth. Me? I'm wide awake. I see everything. I chose everything. And yet tonight, sitting here, I wonder if she ever really asked me to do this? Or did I hear what I wanted to hear? Doesn't matter. She's safe now. Hidden where no one will ever look. I told myself I'd walk to the end of the earth for her. Turns out the end of the earth was just an empty factory and a shallow grave of concrete and rot. I feel nothing. And this nothing feels like victory.
[Entry on 12th of March, 1994 is unreadable.]
13 Mar 94
Can't sleep. The house is too quiet. I keep circling back to the same thought: what if the doctor was right? He said the baby would ruin her, so I removed the threat. Weist first, then the evidence, then… well, some secrets should stay secret. I wonder sometimes if I'm the monster they'll call me. But monsters feel guilt, don't they? I feel nothing but this clean, sharp satisfaction, like finishing a puzzle no one else could solve. She belongs to me. Not to lovers. Not to children. Not to the world. If the police ever read this, let them know: I did it for love. Or whatever word you use when love and ownership are the same thing. Tomorrow I'll record the proof. From dust and ashes, the most beautiful performance begins.
* * *
[This video was collected from an encoded file in a 64 GB USB stored in a waterproof bag, found on Fillian's body. It had been deduced that Fillian expected authorities to find the USB.]
[As the video starts, a static ambience slowly fades in with a dissonant edge that might have been intended to unsettle the listener. The video quality is of an antique camcorder. A voice is heard, most likely Fillian's.]
Fillian (mumbling): "Tch, wasn't even that hard… A man like that… does not deserve an angel like sis…"
[Fillian stands up. He doesn't wipe off the mud, or feel any disturbance. He holds the camera, smiling. Fillian turns back and walks to the factory with no emotions. He is not happy, not sad, like a walking shell. He enters the emptied building. There were not a lot of rooms. He entered the room in the middle of three other rooms. There was no smell, but hoards of flies and roaches clung to something. Holding the camera, he enters. He smiles and raises the camera up. He holds up the camera like flexing a trophy. On the floor, behind the walls of flies and insects, was a body. It was still decomposing, disgusting. There was mold on top, a layer of flush green on the body. Fillian laughs out loud, smiling like a maniac. He was the one who had killed the man, but he doesn't feel a single drop of guilt.]
Fillian (to camera, calm and conversational): "They always say the truth will out. Like it's some kind of justice. Funny thing is, I already know the truth. Have known since I was sixteen. The night she came to my room crying, saying she was pregnant, by Weist. I told her it would be okay. I'd fix it (pause) and I did. I've been thinking about this moment for weeks. The old Greek stories say the hero blinds himself when he sees too much, but look at me with my eyes wide open. I killed him because he tried to take her. I killed the baby before it could be born because it would have split us apart. And I… took care of her too, in the end. Not out of hate. Out of certainty. She's safer hidden inside the only person who truly understands her, me."
[He turns, walks toward the derelict factory. The camera shakes slightly with each step, but his breathing stays even. Inside is a vast, dark space, with broken windows that let in silvers of moonlight. Three doorways in a row appear, and he chooses the middle one without hesitation.]
Fillian (still addressing camera): "The doctor at the clinic told her the baby would destroy our family. Mom and Dad believed it too. They begged me to help 'handle it.' I said yes. I always say yes to her. So I took care of the problem. Took care of Weist. Took care of the evidence. Took care of… everything."
[He enters the room. Black swarms of flies spiral upward like smoke. Cockroaches carpet the floor in. In the center, slumped against the cinderblocks, was most likely the body of J. A. Weist. He was bloated, green-molded with his face half-collapsed and unrecognizable.]
[Fillian steps closer. Raises the camera triumphantly overhead, like a victorious athlete displaying a trophy.]
Fillian (laughing): "See him? Weist. I arranged him like a still life. Mold and rot do make an interesting combination. I keep wondering if any part of me regrets it. I waited for the guilt to hit, like Oedipus howling at the sky. But there's only this peace, like the last note of a song that only I get to hear. She never has to choose anyone else now. Fate tried to tear us apart. I just (pause) corrected it."
[He lowers the camera, stares directly into the lens. The manic grin softens into something that could be interpreted as tenderness.]
Fillian: "You hear that, little sis? I won, just like I promised. My greatest love! I told you I'd do anything for you. I would massacre heaven and hell, and I bet I could. Everyone fights for the truth or fights for themselves, but I fight for you! The righteous perish when their reason perishes. The selfish are afraid of perishing. But I am not! I shall not die with reason or with myself or with you, my love. I will never perish!"
[He turns the camera on himself one last time and chuckles lightly. The static heard becomes stronger.]
Fillian: "That's the end for me. I've fulfilled my wish, now it is my turn. My beautiful sister has given me my final request."
[He reorients the camera to the dead body and walks out of frame. The camera remains on the body for several seconds before the screen cuts to black.]
[Record is scheduled to be deleted on 25th March 2026, by requirement of the Director in "clearing storage". Download?]
[Data downloaded.]