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bad. I need to think. Did you use a condom?” Brandon shook his head.

“Shit, shit, you stupid fucking idiot,” his father said, getting up from his chair pacing the room whilst rubbing the back of his neck with Brandon watching him becoming more and more frightened.

“It’s only a matter of time before they come knocking, we need to get you out of here!” his father said.

“Now, don’t be too hasty,” his mother said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if they find his DNA on her, and if he disappears, then he becomes a wanted man with his face in every newspaper and on every television news channel in the world and they will throw the book at him,” his mother said in frustration. “Our only hope for Brandon is to go to the police and tell them everything and pray.”

“You mean get in there first; we are going to need a fucking good lawyer,” his father said, sitting back down in his chair with his hands pressed together resting against his chin. “How could you be so stupid?” His father said shaking his head.

Brandon sat in silence listening to his parent’s conversation but not understanding the magnitude of the situation and his involvement. Even in his confused state he could see that they meant trouble was coming which sent a cold chill throughout his body.

***

“G’day, may I help you?” said the office behind the counter. His grey complexion and sloping facial features on the left side of his face indicated that the officer had had a stroke. His overweight body restricted his movements.

“Yes we have information with regards to the murdered kids and we would like to talk to someone, please,” he said.

“May I take your name, sir?”

“Yes, Trevor Radcliffe and this is my wife, Pam, and our son, Brandon.”

“If you would take a seat, someone will be with you shortly,” the officer said. Watching them take a seat, he picked up the telephone and made a call to Inspector Jenson.

Ten minutes passed then Inspector Jenson entered the front desk and escorted Mr and Mrs Radcliffe and Brandon into interview room one. Within two minutes, Inspector Rankin entered the room.

“You told the front desk you had information for us regarding the murders?” Inspector Jenson said.

“Yes, our son Brandon was with Natasha Cley and Kevin Stones on the day of the murders. It seems they were in a sexual relationship.” Inspector Jenson read Brandon his rights and postponed the interview until his solicitor arrived.

After intensive interrogation, Inspector Jenson and Rankin postponed the interview. Making her way back from the chief super’s office with a signed warrant to search the premises of the Radcliffe household, she entered the Interview Room One and requested Mr and Mrs Radcliffe to accompany them to their home, leaving Brandon with his solicitor.

They arrived at the Radcliffe home around 11:45 am. “Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, I am holding a warrant to search these premises and any other premises you hold. Could you tell us where Brandon’s room is, please?”

Completely in shock surrounding the turning of events Mrs Radcliffe could barely speak, sitting down on her couch with her head in her hands, in tears, with her husband’s arm around her, trying to console her, watching the police officers going through their personal things that they held dear. Feeling violated and sickness developing in the pit of his stomach, “It’s the first left through that door; he also has his own space with the shed at the bottom of the garden.”

“Thank you, Mr Radcliffe.”

“What’s happening, I don’t understand. We came to you.”

“Ma’am, you better come and see this,” the constable said as he walked through the back door.

Entering the shed at the bottom of the garden, Inspectors Jenson and Rankin couldn’t believe what they were seeing. “We need forensics, I will call them,” said Inspector Rankin. “Ma’am, Ma’am,” Inspector Jenson heard her name being called repeatedly. She cleared the shed of persons, shut and bolted the door, so the contents would not be contaminated.

Inspector Jenson entered Brandon’s room. There was clothing everywhere, the bed was unmade and the television was still on. However, the picture was on pause and the smiling face looking back at her was of a naked Natasha Cley’s. “Looks like we have got our man!” she said, under her breath. She cleared the room in readiness for forensics.

Heading back into the living area, “Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, could you accompany me back down to the station please?”

“Eh, yes, why?!” Mr Radcliffe said with Mrs Radcliffe looking bewildered as though she has just entered her worse nightmare.

“Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder, you do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do or say may be given in evidence.”

The couple were separated and taken to the police station in separate cars. Forensics arrived. Police cordoned off the area. Within a couple of hours, items were tagged and bagged and were placed in the back of a white transit van.

***

Mr and Mrs Radcliffe were released after four hours of being interviewed by the police. They were told they weren’t allowed to go back to their home, but had to find alternative accommodation within the area for a while until the police were finished gathering evidence.

They stayed with close friends, looking grey and dishevelled from their former selves, walking around like ghosts, only talking amongst themselves and very close family and friends. Mrs Radcliffe lost a stone overnight and Mr Radcliffe, with intense grief, brought on a heart attack, which would affect him for the rest of his life.

Their other two sons arrived from Sydney and Melbourne to support their younger brother and parents. They had to find themselves a new home and start again. Once it got out and the police had finished gathering their evidence, their home was set on fire and burned to the ground.

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