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Chapter One
My name is Francais and I'm a private investigator. Used to be a cop but my drug abuse got me kicked off the force. I still do amphetamines or cocaine to sharpen my focus and sedatives or opiates to fall asleep.

I'm a white boy from Charleswood in Winnipeg but I spend a lot of time in the north end of the city, that's where most of my customers are. I hate it that I'm a little racist. I don't want to be a racist but I have these thoughts and I can't stop them from happening.

Chapter Two
I hear of a new murder in the north end. Cesspool of a neighbourhood it is up there. Works great for you if you're in a gang, not so much if you are the people served by the gang. As with anywhere you mind your own business you'll probably be fine, but never completely fine.

Another gang land murder, there's a new one every month.

Chapter Three
The police hardly care, that's why if you want justice you go to somebody like me. That's what the mother of the deceased has done. This isn't the first time I've dealt with her, she's the one I sent away for stealing a friend's necklace to feed her crack addiction.

She tells me I'm her only hope.

Native woman. Not that I mean anything about it, just that I always make note of people's race in my head. I wish I didn't but I do and that's how it is.

Chapter Four
I go to the crime scene, the police are there. One of them is all "Just another dead Indian." Another laughs. He says "Well I guess we got all we need, let's get some coffee."

I say "A young man is dead." "Yep." "Show a little class." "This your first day?" "Fucking hell..."

Chapter Six
The police have no suspects but after talking to the mother I have three. Apparently one of them is the brother of a woman the deceased was going out with, a native man, one a little white boy who's new to gang banging and is therefor pretty clean so far and another native guy who's turf was taken by the deceased.

My guess is the angry brother.

Chapter Seven
I'm interrogating the suspects. The brother is first. Name of Dwayne. "You were upset with the deceased, correct?" "I was." "Upset enough to do anything?" "Upset enough to beat his ass, not upset enough to murder him." "Sounds like you were practising that line." "I was." "It sounded real believable." "Uh, great." "You may go." Dude had a record. Assault, robbery, possession with intent to sell. Nasty fucker.

Other native guy... "You were upset with the deceased, correct?" "Yes." "Upset enough to do anything?" "It's the business, man, things happen." "You make something happen?" "I didn't. I mean things like him taking my turf happen. I wouldn't touch the kid he barely made a dent in my earnings." "You may go."

And then the little white boy. "You're here because the mother of the deceased gets a bad energy off you." "A lot of people get a bad energy off me." "You dumb enough to murder?" "No sir." "I hear you want to make a name for yourself as a gang banger." "I guess yeah." "Well I'm not here about any of that, I only care about the murder." "Never murdered anybody man. I'm clean you know it." "I do know it." I don't think the kid is dumb enough to murder.

Chapter Eight
I accuse Dwayne the next day and he denies. "It looks a lot like it's you." "Well it ain't." "Give it up you're done." "I didn't do shit!" "You gonna tell that to the mother?" "I'll tell it to the mother!" "Look just stop, you're done." "Fuck you. It's 'cause I'm native." "That has nothing to do with it, you calling me a racist!?" "I'm calling you one if you are one!" "Well I'm not! You just assume I'm racist 'cause I'm white!" "Fuck you man let me go."

I tell the police and they're happy to throw him in jail.

Chapter Nine
The next week I'm watching the news and Dwayne has been killed in prison by the cousin of the deceased.

Chapter Ten
The next day the little white boy comes to talk to me. "So I hear Dwayne got ice'd." "Seems so. Justice as far as I'm concerned." "Well..." "Well?" "I can't help but feel awful. He was my friend." "You must have had friends die in your line of work." "Well yeah I guess but not like this." "Not like what?" "He went to jail for me. I... I did it." "You what!?" "I wanted his turf and he was being a dick about it trying to edge me out, trying to take all my shit." "..." "And now he's dead." "..." "You fucked up too you know, 'course you never would have accused a white boy." "I'm not..."

...But I am. I try not to be but I am. It's never cost anybody their life before. An innocent man is dead because of me. I went for weeks hoping the guilt would pass but it never did, no matter how much chemical assistance. My choice now is to kill myself or live the rest of my life a zombie...

I don't know what I'm going to do.