Please call me Lou! Everyone on the faculty does. Simply Lou. Sorry to make you walk a bit, but I think it's best to talk about Duncan and the... events in the very classroom he's taught. I’ll lead the way. You know, this school, though small, has this special charm that I've always appreciated. We ensure that each student receives a good deal of individual attention from teachers who are genuinely invested in their pupils' success. That's always been my aim as a teacher. And I'm happy that I was relocated to Willow Creek Elementary a few years ago. Oh right, Duncan. It's a bit off the main path. No, not Duncan is, but his classroom. But we’re almost there. Here. This is where we spend most of our time learning and growing together. Oh, really, you’ve been a student here too, back in the day? Then this place must bring back memories, though I bet it looks a bit different now. A few things have changed over the years. The classrooms, for starters, are almost unrecognizable. We've got all new furniture. Better chairs, you know. Not those small, shaky, wooden ones that used to creak anytime one of the older students moved an inch. It's all a bit more modern now. To a certain degree, that is. We're still a bit old school when it comes to tech. No interactive wallboards here as you can see. Or iPads. There are projectors, sure, but mostly for showing educational videos or the occasional PowerPoint presentation. The real work, we believe, is still best done the traditional way. We still think that books and writing on paper will do the trick best. It's about the tactile experience, the connection you make when you physically write something down or turn the pages of a book. It helps with retention, or so the studies say. Plus, there's something timeless about the sound of pages turning, the scratch of pencil on paper. It's... grounding, in a way digital devices can't replicate. But anyway, that's why the classrooms might look a bit different to you now. New furniture, same old teaching philosophy. It's not easy to find the right balance nowadays. Please, take a seat! Mr. Wilkinson has kindly prepared two cups and a can of coffee for us. Oh, I see he forgot the sugar and milk. Mr. Wilkinson is our janitor. He’s quite popular among the kids—has a way of making them laugh, you know. But, well, if you ask me, he lacks a bit of discipline and, um, enthusiasm for his work. Are you okay with having your coffee black, officer? Yes? Good. I could call Mr. Wilkinson to bring some sugar and milk, though. No? Good. I just want to make sure you're comfortable. It's just that, in the classroom, I always try to make sure everyone has what they need... But right, we're here to discuss something more important. So, this is Duncan's classroom. Most subjects are taught here, mostly by myself. Yes, I'm his class teacher for... uhm... almost two years now. Which is peculiar, because normally class teachers change with each grade. But teacher shortage is a problem in a small town that's not exactly the heart of pulsating life. And so I teach most subjects. Except for maths of course, because I wasn't very good at it. Guess every 5th grader could outsmart me there. Ha ha. And PE. We have Mr. Tiltan for that. Though everyone just calls him Coach Titan. He spends the whole school day in the gym. You'll only find him in his sweats with a whistle hanging down his neck. And religious instruction. I'm not a very religious person. Are you, sir? Oh, right, we want to talk about Duncan. Have you had a chance to speak with him directly? I understand. It can wait, and it's probably not the best approach at this moment. So, you haven't seen what he looks like, have you? You'd be surprised. See this class photo hanging on the wall just behind me? It was taken two years back, but you know, kids at this age... some change quickly, others don’t. Duncan still looks much the same. You can spot him easily. He's the tallest one in the class, stands out by at least a head's height over the others. Nearly as tall as me. Yes, that's him, on the right. The one who seems to be looking off into the distance, with that dreamy look in his eyes. He's kind of a dreamer, Duncan is. By the way, his desk is actually right behind where you're sitting, officer. I've been thinking. Well, I'm considering moving him to a different spot in the classroom. Maybe somewhere in the center or towards the far left. It's just that being so close to the window gives him too many opportunities to get lost in his thoughts, you see. Too many distractions. Are you asking if Duncan's bright? Well, I tend to steer clear of blanket statements. Every student shines in their own way, and that's particularly true for kids Duncan's age. They're still finding their footing, discovering passions and carving out their identities. It complicates making broad assessments; we prefer to focus on individual subjects for that reason. However, if I were to sum it up, I'd say, yes, Duncan stands a bit ahead of the curve. His performance is solid, but there's room for growth. His tendency to get lost in daydreams sometimes holds him back. On the athletic field, though, he truly shines. His natural aptitude for sports is undeniable. He's a star when it comes to long-distance running, leading the pack with ease. And his height gives him a clear edge on the basketball court. He's become a key player for our school teams. Art? I was afraid that we have to approach that subject. To outright label Duncan as a poor artist doesn't sit right with me. It's more nuanced than that. Truthfully, art isn't his strongest suit, and Duncan is the first to admit he struggles in this area. He's quite candid about considering himself lacking in artistic talent. When we take a closer look at his drawings, you will see what he means. At a glance, his skills aren't as developed as you might expect. By underdeveloped, I'm comparing his work to that of his classmates. His drawings, they're… simplistic. They lack the complexity or detail you'd see in the work of his peers. It's as if his artistic expression has remained stagnant, while others have evolved and refined their techniques. To put it bluntly, his style mirrors what you'd typically see from a much younger child, say around five years old, rather than someone of Duncan's age. There's a certain innocence and straightforwardness to his drawings, devoid of the sophistication or understanding of form and perspective you'd expect from a ten-year-old. Shall we have a look at one of his drawings? I've got them organized in a folder right here in this drawer. So, here we go. You recognize this drawing, don't you? The police should have a copy of this one. This is where the story begins, isn't it? I see you grasp what I meant by underdeveloped. Look here, you can sort of figure out what he was trying to depict. This part represents the schoolyard, right up against what used to be flower beds. And those are the two oaks visible from the classroom window, though he's shown them from a different angle. No, they certainly don't sprout blue leaves in reality. But this is where it gets tricky, distinguishing between what's real and what's sprung from Duncan's imagination. You see, at this point, we enter a gray area. It's not just about the accuracy of representation but understanding the blend of reality and fantasy that characterizes his work. It's actually a fine line, distinguishing between what's tangible and what exists only in Duncan's mind. In cases like these, understanding his intent requires a leap of imagination on our part. Art, you know, it's really about pushing our students to tap into their creativity, to let their imaginations run wild. See it as a journey of self-discovery for them, a way to explore their own perceptions and interpretations of the world around them. In art, there's no such thing as right or wrong. It's subjective. While a photograph might be altered to present a different reality, drawings are pure. They're a reflection of the individual's unique perspective. Unlike a camera, which captures a moment impartially, a drawing is deeply personal, shaped by the artist's own vision. See that object there, nestled among the lines that suggest a patch of garden? Yes, the casket. I thought you would say that, but that's only because you're aware of the entire backstory, the sequence of events that unfolded. It's fascinating, isn't it? How knowledge of certain facts can influence our reading of an image, leading us to see things that might not be immediately apparent to others. At the time Duncan made that drawing, its meaning wasn't obvious. To put it plainly, nobody really knew what it was supposed to be. And, if I'm being honest, it didn't grab anyone's attention. With nearly 30 kids in this class, it's a tall order for me to delve into or discuss every single piece. I do engage with them, of course, but it's usually when a student comes up with a question or needs some guidance. So, initially, Duncan's drawing just became part of the collection on the hallway wall, mixed in with the rest from that day's art session. We'll take a walk down there in a bit. It was actually more than a week later, definitely after... the discovery, that I noticed one of his classmates standing in front of Duncan's drawing during a break. He was staring at it intently. I asked him what he found so interesting. And he asked me, 'Is that a casket in the drawing?' His curiosity came from a personal place—his grandfather had just passed away, and he'd seen a casket for the first time. It was a poignant reminder of how art can connect with personal experiences, sometimes in unexpected ways. And it was only then that we started to see Duncan's drawing in a new light. Indeed, I had a conversation with him about that drawing. To me, it unmistakably resembled a casket, positioned right beside the bed of daisies. He firmly stated it was a bench. I gave him a doubtful look, but he doubled down, insisting on it being a bench. He also admitted to me, rather bashfully, that he doesn't see himself as a skilled artist and that he doesn't find much joy in drawing. Now, here's an interesting tidbit—I'm not sure if this detail has reached your files yet. There actually was a bench in the exact spot he decided to draw, right up until the day after he completed his work. Yes, on the very day of the discovery, when Mr. Wilkinson and the town's maintenance crew were tilling the soil where it once stood. We had to remove it for safety reasons; it was becoming a liability. The wood was rotting, and it posed a real risk of collapse under any weight. But, interestingly enough, the bench wasn't brown as Duncan has painted it. It was originally white but had faded to a sort of grey over time. I can almost read your thoughts, officer. And I'll tell you, the same questions have haunted me since that day. Did Duncan somehow foresee the discovery? Was he aware of what was concealed beneath the flowers? And, perhaps more unsettling, did he have any knowledge of how… the body ended up there? Admittedly, that last question might seem like a bit of a stretch. Or could this all just be a mere coincidence? It's possible to view it as such, isn't it? Even now, one might argue for coincidence. It seems improbable, sure. But isn't it equally far-fetched to attribute this to some sort of supernatural or magical foresight? From up here, we can't catch a glimpse of the area, no matter how much we crane our necks. It's obscured by the building's wing. A police cordon was set up, encircling the spot in a broad sweep. They were worried about possibly uncovering more... bodies. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Yet, that patch remained off-limits until just recently, after efforts were made to restore it to its previous state. But for us, the teachers, and I suspect many students too, it'll never feel the same. I must say, your discretion in keeping the incident from becoming public fodder was commendable. I haven't stumbled upon any news articles about it. However, absolute secrecy is a tall order. Whispered speculations started circulating. They intensified, especially when Duncan missed an entire week of school right after. Rumor has it the deceased was a distant kin of his. Please, you don't need to confirm or deny anything. I'm not sure I want to delve deeper into that. The whole situation is just dreadful. The thought of someone being discarded there, merely enveloped in plastic, it's unsettling. No one should ever meet such an end, should they? Do you want another cup of coffee before we dive into the next piece? Okay, then. I think I'll join you. This discussion is really taking a toll on me. Now, this drawing here, completed roughly three weeks after the first, certainly raised red flags, didn't it? You're familiar with it, but perhaps a bit of context might shed more light. You'll notice, it retains that same, somewhat simplistic approach, right? There's an innocence to it, where the idea is discernible, yet something feels off. This particular scene is set just behind the sports hall. There’s the turn-around area with the bus stop, used by students commuting by bus. Notice the 'b' sign he's included? Curiously, he's chosen a different color for it, again. And there's the bus, unmistakably larger than the two cars parked along the curb, and he's even got it in the correct shade of yellow. For this project, the students were asked to draw a school event, any event of their choosing. So naturally, most of them illustrated various celebrations, like sports day victories, the annual science fair, or the spring music concert. And then, there was Duncan. He chose to draw the school bus arriving at its stop. Hardly the festive scene one might expect. Would you even call it an event? So, two aspects of his picture strike me as particularly odd. The first is the utter absence of children. No one waiting for the bus, no visible passengers, not even a hint of a bus driver behind the wheel. When I questioned Duncan about this emptiness, he said he dislikes drawing people. Claims it scares him. For a second, I wondered if he meant the presence of people in general scared him, but that didn't track with the boy I knew. He was never fearful in social settings. But it dawned on me—he indeed never includes people in his work. Perhaps it's a skill beyond his grasp. The second oddity truly baffled me. Take a look at this stain in front of the bus. At first glance, you might think he started to paint the street gray and then abandoned the idea. But when you really look at it, the shape... Could it be an oil stain? That level of detail would be uncharacteristically meticulous for Duncan. I directly approached him, and asked outright what the detail was meant to be, and he simply said it showed a cat crossing the street. That's not far-fetched, right? You can see the logic in that explanation. And remember, we had this talk immediately after he gave me the drawing, right at the end of class. How was I to predict the events that would unfold the very next day? How could I possibly have known? Night after night, I find myself wrestling with sleep, haunted by these questions: Was there a sign I missed? Could I have intervened to prevent what happened? I know, you haven't pointed fingers at me. Nobody has, at least not directly. Yet, I can't shake off this sense of guilt. Odd, isn't it, feeling responsible in some way? Yes, I'm aware such thoughts are in vain. But that's just who I am. I can't help but ponder these what ifs. The news the following day about Kenneth from Mrs. Pugh's class being hit by the bus sent a chill down my spine, and Duncan's drawing immediately flashed in my mind. I recall it vividly, it happened right after fourth period, a time when school ends for some students. I was overseeing recess on the far side of the playground and ended up being among the last to hear. The atmosphere among the faculty was frenetic. The few students who witnessed the incident were quickly picked up by their parents, a psychologist was brought in, and somehow, we managed to push through the remainder of the day, which unusually concluded after the sixth period. We concocted some impromptu professional development session for the teachers to fill the time. The following morning, we held a memorial in every classroom during the first hour, after which students were dismissed. Parents were duly notified. There was grief everywhere, touching every single one of us, and I emphasize, every one. Yet, Duncan... he seemed unaffected. Throughout most of it, he was lost in his own world, gazing out the window, his focus miles away. Did you know that Duncan and Kenneth had a bit of a rivalry going on here? Not the kind where they'd scuffle in the yard, nothing like that. But they were both vying for the captain spot on the school's basketball team. It was quite the saga. During practices, they hardly exchanged words or even glances. It was all very competitive. Coach Titan—Mr. Tiltan, I mean, he's the one to talk to for the full story. Oh, you're right to point that out. It adds another layer to Duncan's connection with the... well, victims. How I would interpret this? Honestly, I'm at a loss. I'm not the detective. I'm just as puzzled by these developments as anyone. But, piecing everything together, it's becoming increasingly difficult to chalk it up to mere coincidence, isn't it? This whole situation gives me the creeps. You're probably wondering why I requested this meeting, especially since you already know almost everything of what I've shared. And truthfully, I'm not even sure if you're investigating at all or if this qualifies as a case. But I needed to speak up this time, to ensure nothing's overlooked. Duncan made another drawing in yesterday's art class. I went over it with him, really dug into the details, and nothing seemed amiss. But, you know, appearances can be deceiving, and perhaps you'll spot something I didn't. I tried to reach you yesterday, but had no luck. That's why I'm relieved you're here now, willing to dedicate a moment of your valuable time to what might end up being nothing at all. But, better safe than sorry, right? The drawing is displayed in the hallway, right outside this classroom, among the most recent class projects. Shall we take a look? It's just over here. In some art classes, teachers might cherry-pick a few standout projects for display. That's not how we do things at Willow Creek. We believe every student's work deserves to be seen. We're committed to celebrating each child's creative expression, regardless of skill level. It's about giving everyone a voice through their art. Here we are. Duncan's latest creation is just over here, to your left. Yesterday's assignment was pretty straightforward - draw the view from the classroom window. Sounds simple, right? But, there was a twist. It was also a test of memory. Students had five minutes to stand by the window to absorb every detail they wished to include in their drawing. After that time, looking outside was off-limits. As you can see from the collection here, each student interpreted it a bit differently. But everyone captured the scene with varying degrees of detail and accuracy. All except Duncan, that is. So, take a look. Notice the difference? Yes, it's not the schoolyard seen from up here. Instead, he chose to draw this part of the school building, the one we're currently in, but viewed from the outside, from the schoolyard. That's a significant deviation, isn't it? It veers away from the assignment given. Here, you can spot the tree that's usually right outside our window, but Duncan's shown it from an entirely different angle. And yes, those blue leaves are back. Then, there are the windows of our classroom. Here’s precisely where we were sitting just moments ago. And do you see these birds? They're just basic 'm' shapes. But then, there's this one. This large black figure, soaring up from the tree. It stands out, doesn't it? More defined, more... distinct. I asked Duncan about it. He told me it was a crow. And I remember thinking, wow, that's quite a detailed observation for Duncan to make. I understand it might sound odd, but do you notice anything unusual or... potentially alarming in this drawing? What, the crow, is it? What seems off about it to you? Truly? Let me take a better look at that. Hmm... you know, you may have a point there. It really does bear a striking resemblance to a jet eng