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No one knew how long he’d been there before they found him. Even the coroner had difficulty determining the exact time of death. His report read “sometime on Friday.”
There were signs of a struggle. Locks of hair—torn from his head, chewed pieces of fingernail, coffee spills near the keyboard.
Friends and family gathered to grieve, wondering aloud if anything could have been said or done to prevent his untimely demise.
Everyone commented on the barb-wire halo draped over a fence post. Perhaps that was the key to unlocking the mystery. The words “bob-ware prison” scrawled beneath the prompt.