Chapter 10: The Final Truth
Pranav and Thameem sat quietly in the jeep as it sped through the bustling morning streets of Chennai. After days of relentless rain, the city now gleamed under the bright sunlight, almost as if nature was breathing again. Thameem, finally relaxing after the long case, broke the silence.
“At last, sir, the case is solved. So many mysteries, so much suffering. And I’ve learned so much from you, sir,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of relief and exhaustion.
Pranav, gazing out the window, smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, Thameem. A lot of mysteries, a lot of suffering.” His voice dropped. “But the case isn’t closed.”
Thameem turned sharply, eyes wide. “What do you mean, sir? Balan confessed. He was the one behind it all.”
Pranav looked at Thameem, his expression thoughtful yet calm. “Yes, Balan confessed, but that doesn’t make him the killer. His story was 99% true, but there’s that 1%—the most important part—that was a lie.”
Thameem’s face paled. “Sir… what are you saying? Then who’s the real killer?”
Pranav leaned back, signaling patience. “Wait. We’ll discuss this after the meeting with the Assistant Commissioner. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
The rest of the drive passed in anxious silence. Thameem’s mind raced with possibilities, while Pranav remained composed, lost in thought. Soon, they reached the office of Assistant Commissioner Ravichandran. They were greeted with warm congratulations and handshakes, but Thameem could barely muster a smile. His mind was still grappling with Pranav’s revelation.
Ravichandran motioned them to sit down. “Pranav, I’m extremely impressed with your work. The way you’ve solved this case—once again, you’ve proven your brilliance in investigation.”
Pranav nodded humbly.
“But,” Ravichandran continued, “there’s something I need to discuss. As you know, the elections are around the corner, and unfortunately, all promotions and transfers have been put on hold. It could be six or seven months before anything moves. However, I’ve been planning to set up a new Cold Case Unit, and I want you to head it. You’ll have complete control over the city’s unsolved murder cases. Thameem will be a part of your team as well.”
Thameem’s eyes lit up at the prospect, but Pranav, as always, remained composed. “I’ll need to think about it, sir,” he said.
Ravichandran nodded understandingly. “Of course. Take your time. You’ll have up to five people on your team. Oh, and I’d like you to meet Murali, a young inspector who’s just passed his exams with flying colors.”
Murali entered the room, sharp and confident. He was young, probably in his late twenties, with a lean, athletic build. His eyes gleamed with intelligence, and he carried himself with the energy of someone eager to prove themselves.
“Sir,” Murali saluted both Ravichandran and Pranav.
“Murali will join your team regardless of whether you accept the offer or not,” Ravichandran added.
Pranav nodded again. “Sure, Murali can join. But as for the new unit, I’ll need some time to decide.”
The meeting ended, and as the officers exited the room, Thameem, still puzzled, finally asked, “Sir, why didn’t you accept the offer right away? This is a great opportunity.”
Pranav smiled but gave no answer. Instead, he said, “Let’s go to a place we’re familiar with.”
The cryptic comment hung in the air as they got back into the jeep, joined now by Murali. Thameem, momentarily distracted by the meeting, suddenly remembered Pranav’s earlier words.
“Sir! You said Balan isn’t the real killer! Who is it then?” Thameem asked, eyes wide with anxiety.
Pranav’s eyes darkened with thought. “Head to Balan’s house.”
Murali glanced between the two senior officers, sensing the weight of the moment, though still unfamiliar with the full depth of the case. The jeep drove through the narrow streets of Balan’s neighborhood, the air heavy with humidity and the smell of wet earth. They parked and walked towards Balan’s house, greeted by his daughter, Mitra.
The small house exuded poverty, worn down by years of hardship. Mitra, in her early twenties, greeted them nervously. “Please, come in, sir,” she said, her voice quiet but composed. Her eyes flickered with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Pranav exchanged a few pleasantries before cutting to the chase. “Mitra, how is your Mental health?”
She hesitated. “I'm… coping, sir. I don’t know what will happen to him now. We’ve been struggling for years, ever since he worked at Patel Industries.”
Pranav studied her carefully. “Mitra, do you know this man?” He held up a photo of Vinayagam, the head constable who was attacked at the police stationt by a person earlier in the investigation.
Mitra’s face stiffened. Her eyes betrayed a flicker of recognition, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “No, sir,” she said, her voice strained.
Pranav’s eyes narrowed. “I think the case isn’t over yet, Mitra. The real killer is still free.”
As soon as those words left Pranav’s mouth, Mitra’s composure shattered. She bolted towards the door, but Murali, quick on his feet, caught her before she could escape. “Sit down,” Pranav said, his voice firm but calm. “No one’s here to hurt you.”
Mitra collapsed into the chair, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far…” she whispered.
Thameem stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. Murali remained poised, absorbing everything with the sharp attention of a young investigator.
“My father—he fought so hard, but he was broken. He gave up. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let those men get away with what they did. They poisoned him, ruined his life, and then bought their freedom with their money and power. I couldn’t stand it.” Mitra’s voice trembled as the truth poured out.
“You were the one who planned the murders?” Pranav asked softly.
“Yes, sir,” she sobbed. “ I gave complaint about my missing dad in a nearby by police station and then, I kidnapped them, I gave them the chemicals, and I hung them on those poles. My father didn’t know… he only confessed to protect me. I never wanted this for him. He was afraid I’d get caught, and he… he didn’t want me to suffer like he did.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I just wanted justice for what they did to him.”
Pranav sat quietly for a moment, then said, “Your father was right to fear for you, Mitra. But there’s a way to make your family proud without throwing your life away.”
Mitra looked up, confused.
“I’m offering you a position on a special investigative team. You’ve completed your MSc in Criminology, haven’t you?”
Mitra blinked, stunned. “Y-yes… I just got my results today.”
Pranav leaned forward. “Then put your skills to use. Join our team, help solve cases, and do something good with your life. You’ve suffered enough.”
Mitra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears of disbelief and gratitude rolled down her cheeks as she hugged Pranav tightly. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered.
Pranav stood, signaling the end of the conversation. “Thameem, collect her academic certificates and prepare her appointment order. I’ll talk to Ravichandran about this.”
As they left the house, Thameem’s mind was still reeling. “Sir… how did you figure out it was her?”
Pranav smiled. “When Vinayagam described the kidnapper, he mentioned the person was short and lean. The riddles sent to me had a high level of understanding and excellent English. Do you really think a man like Balan, with no education or knowledge of English, could pull that off?”
Thameem shook his head, amazed. “No, sir.”
“Exactly. Balan may have confessed, but the real killer was right in front of us.”
Murali, impressed, added, “Sir, what about the job offer from the Assistant Commissioner? Will you take it?”
Pranav pulled out his phone and called Ravichandran. “Sir, I’ve made my decision. I’ll head the Cold Case Unit, and I’ve already recruited my first member.”
“Who is he?” Ravichandran asked.
“It’s not a ‘he,’ sir. It’s 'She'—Mitra. I will send her documents to you sir, you can also have a complete look at her proficiency. She’ll join our team in January.”
As the car raced through the streets of Chennai, Pranav gazed out at the city—bustling with life, routine, and the unseen turmoil that simmered beneath the surface. Human psychology, he thought, was a maze of complexities. Everyone wore a mask, driven by their own fears, desires, and traumas.
Balan had confessed out of love for his daughter, ready to sacrifice everything for her. Mitra had killed out of vengeance, wanting justice in a world that seemed rigged against her father. Each person’s actions stemmed from the deepest corners of their psyche—both good and evil—shaped by their experiences and their pain.
It struck Pranav how fragile the human mind was, how dangerous it could become when cornered, or when pushed beyond its limits. Every day, people played different roles, navigating the thin line between sanity and darkness. But when that line was crossed, the consequences could be devastating.
As the jeep sped through the chaotic streets, Pranav thought to himself: the most dangerous thing in this world wasn’t a weapon or a criminal—it was the hidden depths of the human mind.