parents’ golden child, their straight-A student. Now they’re left with just me.
Pip:
And, sorry, but the biggest question then: do you think Sal killed Andie?
Ravi:
I . . . No, no I don’t. I can’t think that. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Sal was one of the nicest people on the planet, you know. He never lost his temper ever, no matter how much I wound him up. He was never one of those boys that got in fights. He was the greatest big brother anyone could have and he always came to my rescue when I needed it. He was the best person I ever knew. So, I have to say no. But then, I don’t know, the police seem so sure and the evidence . . . yeah, I know it looks bad for Sal. But I still can’t believe he had it in him to do that.
Pip:
I understand. I think those are all the questions I need to ask for now.
Ravi:
(Sits back and lets out a long sigh) So, Pippa —
Pip:
You can call me Pip.
Ravi:
Pip then. You said this is for a school project?
Pip:
It is.
Ravi:
But why? Why did you choose this? OK, maybe you don’t believe Sal did it, but why would you want to prove it? What’s it to you? No one else in this town has trouble believing my brother was a monster. They’ve all moved on.
Pip:
My best friend, Cara, she’s Naomi Ward’s sister.
Ravi:
Oh, Naomi, she was always nice to me. Always over at our house, following Sal around like a puppy. She was one hundred per cent in love with him.
Pip:
Oh, really?
Ravi:
I always thought so. The way she laughed at everything he said, even the unfunny stuff. Don’t think he felt the same way back, though.
Pip:
Hm.
Ravi:
So you’re doing this for Naomi? I still don’t get it.
Pip:
No, it’s not that. What I meant was . . . I knew Sal.
Ravi:
You did?
Pip:
Yeah. He was often over at the Wards’ house when I was too. One time, he let us watch a fifteen film with them, even though Cara and I were only twelve. It was a comedy and I can still remember how much I laughed. Laughed until it hurt, even when I didn’t quite get it, because Sal’s laugh was so contagious.
Ravi:
High and giggly?
Pip:
Yeah. And when I was ten, he accidentally taught me my first swear word. Shit, by the way. And another time, he taught me how to flip pancakes because I was useless at it but too stubborn to let someone do it for me.
Ravi:
He was a good teacher.
Pip:
And when I was in my first year at school, these two boys were picking on me because my dad is Nigerian. And Sal saw. He came over and just said, very calmly, ‘When you two get expelled for bullying, the next grammar school is half an hour away, if you even get in. Starting from scratch at a completely new school, think about it.’ They never picked on me again. And afterwards Sal sat with me and gave me his KitKat to cheer me up. Since then, I’ve . . . well, never mind.
Ravi:
Hey, come on, share. I let you have your interview – even though your bribery muffins taste like cheese.
Pip:
Since then, he’s always been a hero to me. I just can’t believe he did it.
I’ve just spent two hours researching this: I think I can send a request to the Thames Valley Police for a copy of Sal’s police interview under the Freedom of Information Act.
There are certain exemptions to disclosing information under the FOIA, like if the requested material relates to an ongoing investigation, or if it would infringe on Data Protection laws by divulging personal information about living people. But Sal is dead, so surely they’d have no reason to withhold his interview? I may as well see if I can access other police records from the Andie Bell investigation too.
On another note: I can’t get these things Ravi said about Jason Bell out of my head. That Sal first thought Andie had run away to punish someone and that her relationship with her father was strained.
Jason and Dawn Bell got divorced not long after Andie’s death certificate was issued (this is common Little Kilton knowledge but I corroborated it with a quick Facebook investigation). Jason moved away and is now living in a town about fifteen minutes from here. It wasn’t long after their divorce that he starts appearing in pictures with a pretty blonde lady who looks a little too young for him. It appears they are married now.
I’ve been on YouTube watching hours and hours of footage from the early press conferences after Andie went missing. I can’t believe I never noticed it before, but there’s something a bit off about Jason. The way he squeezes his wife’s arm just a little too hard when she starts crying about Andie, the way he shifts his shoulder in front of her so he can push her back from the microphone when he decides she’s said enough. The voice breaks that sound a little forced when he says: ‘Andie, we love you so much’ and ‘Please come home, you won’t be in trouble.’ The way Becca, Andie’s sister, shrinks under his gaze. I know this isn’t very objective detective of me, but there’s something in his eyes – a coldness – that concerns me.
And then I noticed THE BIG THING. On the Monday 23rd April evening press conference, Jason Bell says this: ‘We just want our girl back. We are completely broken and don’t know what to do with ourselves. If you know where she is, please tell her to call home so we know she’s safe. Andie was such a huge presence in our home, it’s too quiet without her.’
Yeah. He said ‘was’. WAS. PAST TENSE. This was before any of the Sal stuff had happened. Everyone
