To this day, I still don’t know why the true story of Moses ‘Moze’ Williams didn’t make it into the local papers. I assume the journalists at our small newspaper press thought that no one would believe it. Or maybe the journalists themselves didn’t believe it. If either or both were the case, I can’t say that I blame the journalists.
Another possibility is that no one who saw Moze in his final hours told the journalists about what they saw. That scenario is also blameless. It makes sense that they wouldn’t want anyone to disturb Moze in his final resting place. With what ended up happening to him, there would be novelty seekers swarming all over the place.
Perhaps that was why my father swore me to secrecy when he told me what happened.
Moze’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Williams, didn’t know too much about what their 15-year-old son liked. What they did know is that he had seemed to develop a dislike for spending time with people. His parents rarely ever saw and talked to him, and when they did he never mentioned anything about friends.
However, unlike a typical introvert, Moze didn’t like to stay up in his room for hours at a time. He instead spent a good three to four hours after school going who knows where. He’d only come back when it was time for dinner and homework.
His parents, of course, had asked him several times where he went all afternoon. Moze would always respond to this question with silence or a sharp “none of your business”.
Fearing the worst, Mr. and Mrs. Williams searched the boy’s room for drugs, alcohol, or any other dangerous materials. Most of what they found were just books and clothes. Mrs. Williams also smelled her son’s clothes before putting them in the laundry. She detected no traces of beer, weed, or tobacco.
On top of being drug and alcohol-free, Moze was still receiving good grades and acting well-behaved in school. He also went to church with the family on Sundays without any fuss. And when the Williamses asked other townsfolk if they had seen their son, most who had him said they’d seen him quietly writing and drawing in various places around town.
All of the facts seemed to prove that Moze was a good kid who just liked to spend time alone. Therefore, the parents concluded that they didn’t need to pester or spy on their son any longer. He could have his privacy.
Of course, a few weeks after they made this decision, Moze went missing for three days. He didn’t come home from his wanderings or go to school and none of the neighbors saw him in town.
So the parents decided to organize a search party with many of the townsfolk. It was only after most of the search party members had gone off to search places where they had seen Moze last that my father, Office Chris Miller, made a suggestion.
“Did we check his room for any ideas as to where he went?”
“We’ve already checked his room several times,” Mrs. Williams said.
“Would you mind letting me take a more thorough look?”
“Go ahead.”
As soon as Officer Miller walked into the room, he seemed to act peculiarly. He tapped the walls, ran his hand along the edges of the furniture pieces, and lifted the mattress. Then his eyes turned to the vent.
“Ah,” He walked over to the vent and pointed. “See that? There’s only one screw. It probably makes the space easier to access. Mind getting me a screwdriver, either of you?”
“I’ll go.” Mr. Williams walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Officer Miller shined his light into the vent to try and see what was in there. He looked over to Mrs. Williams. She looked as though she was about to cry.
“Do you think it’s drugs,” She asked.
“Well, to be honest, ma’am.” Officer Miller stood up. “Drugs don’t usually make it to this town, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“What if it’s something he stole?”
“Look, ma’am.” He reached over and put his hand on Mrs. Williams’s shoulder. “Teenagers can be secretive about stupid things. It’s probably just porn or something. Also, don’t worry! If it is something bad, I’ll try to let him off as easily as I can.”
Mrs. Williams smiled. “Thank you, officer.”
Mr. Williams came back with the screwdriver and handed it to Officer Miller. My father kneeled and removed the vent cover screw with a few turns. He pulled the cover off and peered inside.
“Well, look at what we’ve got here.”
Officer Miller reached inside and pulled out a black notebook. He stood up and offered the journal to Mr. Williams.
“Here, sir! I think you should be the one to look at this first.”
Mrs. Williams peeked over her husband’s left hand as he opened the notebook. “It’s just some drawings of buildings.”
“There are some words here too.” Mr. Williams began to read the words.
Me. Williams’s hands began to shake as he did. He flipped over another page and a disgusted look came over his face. This look transformed into anger and he threw the book so that it landed pages down.
“Oh God, oh God!” Mr. Williams put his right hand on his forehead. “Not my son! Not my son!”