“911.”
(sobbing) “Yes… I … I just saw someone run over a squirrel! In broad daylight! He just… he just … kept going and I… I…”
“Okay. Okay calm down… where are you calling from?”
“10 Semolina Drive.”
“We’ll send someone over…”
(hysterical) “I think he’s dead!”
“We’ll send someone immediately…”
“It’s just so… so…”
“Did you get the plate number?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
She does.
“I’ll put out an APB. Stay where you are someone will arrive shortly.”
“Okay… okay… okay…”
Later at the scene of the crime:
“How is he?”
“I’m afraid he’s dead ma’am”
(begins to sob) “He was… it doesn’t…”
“I know how hard this can be ma’am. If it’s any consolation he doesn’t appear to have suffered he was dead in seconds…”
“His tail… it kept swishing back and forth! He was…”
“That often happens. People’s bodies will jerk and twitch long after they’re dead.”
“It’s just so… so… horrible.”
“I know.” (pause) “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”
“O.. o… okay.”
“Did you know this squirrel?”
“Not… not personally, I mean, I’ve seen him around the neighborhood, in my tree, on the back deck… that sort of thing.”
“Did you ever witness him hanging out with anyone suspicious?”
“Just other squirrels I guess…”
“This hit and run was definitely not perpetrated by other squirrels… did you see the driver?”
“Not really… he looked vaguely man shaped.”
“Have you seen any men interacting with the squirrels in the neighborhood?”
“There is… there’s an older fellow who feeds them… he lives at number 24…”
“Interesting.”
“Do you think he… is it possible?”
“Anything’s possible ma’am, but we’ll know more once we run the plates.” (awkward silence) “If you think of anything else… here’s my card.”
“Okay… thank you.”
“Please let me know if you plan on leaving the province…”
“I don’t have any plans to leave the province.”
“If you do.”
“Okay.”
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