Framed for Murder

Title: Framed for Murder
by © 2024 Puja Goyal

PART ONE

“Where’s the story, Pranav?” Asked Sulekha Gupta, the editor in charge of Investigator’s Daily. She was a young woman in her early forties who had grown up the ladder to secure this post. 

“Ma’am, I need more time. We are waiting on our mole.” 

“What mole? I have already sanctioned the required expenses, and now you tell me it isn’t ready.”

“It is, but its just that one bit… four lines.”

“Who is this mole?” Asked Sulekha, looking up at her screen.

“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you… It can get complicated with the ongoing investigation. He could be exposed.”

“So, you don’t know who he is, and you can’t reveal, but you want me to hold the space for you for tomorrow’s news.” 

“Trust me.”

“This has nothing to do with trust. My ass is on the line here. You have already made some loud claims, and I am getting calls here to bury them. Without evidence to support your claims, we are gonna eat dust. You don’t understand; we are going to be shut down with this.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“You don’t, and don’t patronise me! Get me that mole!!!! And GET OUT.” 

That morning, as he prepared to publish his findings, finish the story and leave a spot for the mole’s information, Pranav received a text from an anonymous source. 

“BACK OFF. STOP DIGGING, UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO REACH YOUR GRAVE.”

This confirmed Pranav’s suspicions. He persisted, quickly dealing with Krishna.

“Krishna, leave that spot in the layout for me. We will run the story tomorrow.”

“But…. Ma’am said..”

“I know what Ma’am said. Leave that spot.” He said and hung up.

PART TWO

In the dimly lit room of his small apartment, Pranav sat hunched over his desk, staring at the computer screen with furrowed brows. The flickering light from the monitor cast eerie shadows across his face as he sifted through the seemingly endless pages of the draft. He was a freelance journalist, always on the hunt for the next big story. It was past the deadline, and the bite he was waiting for didn’t turn up on his phone. His colleague Karanth, a new feisty intern thrust upon him by his editor, had little knowledge of the investigation he was pursuing. Regardless, Pranav was obliged to include him and send him on the errand.

At 3.30am, Karanth entered the police station, scanned his bag and walked to the constable, requesting that he allow an interview with Gowda, the local rowdy-sheeter. It was a unique opportunity for the presiding officer, who was on rounds. The doctored signature of the inspector worked, but Karanth didn’t have much time. The clock ticked.

Pranav, waited at his desk for Karanth to call. 3.30am…. 4.00pm… His eyes red and dry, and his anxiety was all-time high, thanks to the 20 cups of black coffee he had gulped down that day. 

It all started with an innocent investigation, of files submitted to his editor about a series of irregularities in the financial records of a local charity organisation, which Karanth had stumbled upon and insisted that Pranav take over. Intrigued by what Karanth had uncovered, Pranav initiated the investigation and was determined to uncover the truth behind the NGO’s corruption. It was, of course, more than a few thousand stolen from the charity. The investigation led the two investigators to rowdy-sheeter Gowda, lounging in jails on and off for his disputes with the police. 

It was a story that could expose the entire system, the law enforcement and bring down the most powerful people in the city, including the opposition party, which was vouching for pinning this on their opponent. As Pranav sat in front of the screen once again, after making another jug of coffee and lighting a cigarette, he stared at his phone and the blank space between his article that was waiting for Karanth’s input. “If only Karanth could get Gowda’s confession and alliance with the investigation.” He thought, his palms sweating.

As Karanth walked out of the station, he was ambushed by a group of masked men. Beaten with sticks, before he could react, he was knocked out cold, dragged into a waiting van, and dumped in front of Pranav’s home. 

“Take your evidence.” Came a text on Pranav’s phone. “Its outside.”

Pranav rushed out of his home to find Karanth lying entangled with his clothes, bleeding from his head, loosing consciousness. 

“Sulekha…” he said and drifted before he lost pulse.

Confused and disoriented, Pranav carried Karanth to the hospital, trying to make sense of his surroundings and what had just happened. The delay at the hospital caused even more distress to Karanth’s health, who was hanging by a thread. 

“Sulekha,” said Pranav, calling her at her residence.  “Sulekha.. Karanth, he is serious.”

“What happened.. hang on..” She said. “I’m coming.”

Pranav had been ambushed by the very people he had been investigating. He was being framed and set-up to take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit.

“Who did this?” Asked Sulekha, looking at Karanth lying on the bed.

“Probably the people we were investigating. I told you we needed protection.” Said Pranav.

“What did he find out from Gowda?” She inquired, sitting down on a metal chair. 

“Only he can tell.”

“What about his recorder?” 

“Didn’t find it in his bag.” Pranav replied, thinking about Krishna.

“Good.” thought Sulekha.

“So I told Krishna to stall the prints until I sent this story.” Confessed Pranav.

“Its okay, call him and tell him to run the print.”

“You aren’t mad?” 

“No. Look, if we don’t find anything, we can’t run the story, it will all be based on hearsay.”

“True. So… we wait?”

“No, we scrap it.” She replied. 

Despite Pranav’s protests, Sulekha decided to shelve the story for good. With no evidence to support his claims and no one to vouch for the authenticity of his story, which he had crafted for the last six months, he was condemned to letting it go. Elections were near, and the story would cause great anguish to a lot of interested parties. He was, however, determined to find out the truth and waited for Karanth to recover in the ICU.

“Gowda was found dead in his cell, did you know?” Asked Krishna early next morning. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know. He was found dead early this morning.” 

“Who ratted on our mole?” Pranav thought as he rushed towards Sulekha’s cabin.

“We’ll need to stop the investigation, indefinitely.” She said as she put her phone down. “Now go.”

With the help of a few trusted allies, Pranav continued to investigate corruption, determined to find out the truth. With each discovery, he came closer to unraveling the web of deception.

“Your rat is in our office.” Said Krishna as he shared holigey with Pranav that afternoon. “Be careful.”

And at that moment, Pranav knew he was on the brink of a breakthrough. Post lunch, Pranav reached Karanth’s room. The room was empty. 

“Where is Karanth?” Asked Pranav as a nurse passed him by.

“Who?”

“The patient in this room is Karanth.” He repeated.

“Oh, he has been sent for an autopsy.” She replied. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Autopsy? He was speaking to me over the phone last night!” 

“I’m sorry. It happens. At least you got a chance to speak with him…”

“Yea Yeah…. “ said Pranav unable to come to terms with this news. How was it possible that a recovering patient died. He remembered Karanth’s last words. “Sulekha.”

Yet, despite the dangers that lurked around every corner, Pranav refused to back down. He decided to confront Sulekha directly. The rat was in the office.  He thought as he parked his bike near the footpath and barged into Sulekha’s office. 

“I need you to reopen the case. Karanth… Karanth was murdered yesterday night.” He declared loudly. 

“Murdered?? How crazy this sounds, Pranav. I am done with you and this investigation. You caused the loss of a promising intern by putting him in touch with the vilest people in your pursuit of this made-up investigation. You put Karanth in danger. What would the boy know, and now you ask to reopen the case? That boy worked with you relentlessly for so many months. Look at this?” She said as she dumped a file full of clippings, photographs and papers in front of Pranav… “LOOK CAREFULLY!!!” 

In a dramatic turn of events, Pranav found evidence of his involvement in Karanth’s death and Gowda’s murder in the station… he found in those papers, his involvement with the higher ups, the power houses and pictures of him shaking hands with the Governor, but those were press conferences he had attended at the governors house. How could he prove that? Pranav found himself on trial, battling against the system.

He paced up and down in his cabin, trying to make sense of this. He felt responsible for Karanth’s death. For involving him in the case investigation. He argued against himself. 

It was Karanth who insisted, and Sulekha approved. They knew what I was getting into, yet Karanth took the risk, it wasn’t my fault. But I could have declined. I could have gone to the station instead, carried my laptop with me and completed the article on the road, after all wifi is not a barrier.

Guilt runs deep and guilt without someone to hold accountable for it, runs deeper. Pranav took an early leave and left the office for home. The police from J.B Nagar station waited at his gate, their sirens blazing. 

“Ma’am, the police is arresting me for Karanth’s murder. Do something.” He said nervously, as he got into the van. The police confiscating his phone immediately. 

“It’s been taken care off.” said Sulekha over the phone, sipping on a cup of steaming hot coffee. The fan rattled above her. “Can some turn the A/C on?” She demanded as her secretary stood in front of her, nervously.

“Ma’am, these documents arrived for Pranav, five minutes ago.” She said as she handed over the documents to Sulekha. 

“Good! And check the A/C” said Sulekha, grabbing the envelope and tearing the sides.

“Ma’am, they are addressed to him, they’re confidential. He’d been looking for these connections since the investigation started, he told me so.. Maybe… Maybe, they will get him acquitted.” She said hopefully.

“Get Out!” Said Sulekha, and as the secretary walked out of the cabin, Sulekha opened the envelope to find pictures of her shaking hands with a contact at an undisclosed parking spot, a pen drive with her communications on the night of Karanth’s murder. 

“ENDGAME.” She thought as she ran the documents through the shredder and pounded the pen drive with a paper weight. 

The next day, it was all over the news. Pranav, accused of Karanth’s murder for discovering his involvement in the scandal, was trapped.