THE DEPICTION OF A FEMALE DANGDUT SINGER’S

MURDER INVESTIGATION AS SEEN FROM THE EYES OF

JACQUES DERRIDA’S DECONSTRUCTIONISM

THESIS

Submitted in Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree of

Sarjana Sastra

Mohamad Hanif Badarudin

392015048

ENGLISH LITERATURE PROGRAM

FACULTY OF LANGUAGE AND ARTS

UNIVERSITAS KRISTEN SATYA WACANA

SALATIGA

2019

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Cover page

III

Pernyataan Tidak Plagiat

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Pernyataan persetujuan akses

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PUBLIC AGREEMENT DECLARATION

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COPYRIGHT STATEMENT

The thesis contains no such material as has been submitted for

examination in any course or accepted for the fulfillment of any degree or

diploma in any university. To the best of my knowledge and my belief, this

contains no material previously published or written by any other person accept

where due reference is made in the text.

Copyright@ Mohamad Hanif Badarudin and Suzana Maria L.A.F, M.Hum

All rights reserved. No part of this thesis may be reproduced by any means

without the permission of at least one of the copyright owners or the English

Language Education Program, Faculty of Language and Arts, Universitas Kristen

Satya Wacana, Salatiga.

Mohamad Hanif Badarudin

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Table of Contents COVERPAGE.............................................................................................IIPERNYATAANTIDAKPLAGIAT........................................................IIIPERNYATAANPERSETUJUANAKSES..............................................IV......................................................................................................................VPUBLICAGREEMENTDECLARATION...............................................VCOPYRIGHT STATEMENT..............................................................VIPROPOSAL...............................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................1THEORETICAL BACKGROUND........................................................................3STORY PROTOTYPE...........................................................................................6RESOURCES.......................................................................................................13

SUMMARY.............................................................................................14KITANA......................................................................................................IREFLECTIVE PAPER.........................................................................15ACKNOWLEDGMENTS....................................................................19LOGBOOK..............................................................................................20REFERENCES.......................................................................................21

1

PROPOSAL

Introduction 1. Background of the study

The music industry has been riddled with many cases of tragic deaths, the

most infamous being the death of John Lennon at the hands of his own fan. This

leads to speculations and theories as to why and how the killing occurred, with

theories popping up attempting to put logic into the incident. However, is there

really such a thing? This research aims to help me write a short story, based on

dangdut, by putting forward deconstructionism as the base theory for this literary

work.

I plan to create a short story based on dangdut, tackling the murder

mystery genre with the combination of the two being considered uncommon

amongst the fictional scene. Although it is kind of similar to the noir stories, with

singers getting murdered every other day, this is significant since I’ll be using

Indonesia’s cultural background to enrich the story with a local context.

My vision is to create a story that breaks the notion of that is often found

within the murder mystery genre, stories where everything seems to be connected

and has some sort of meaning and message. I want everyone to read against the

grains, and understand that not everything happens for a reason. How meaning is

unstable, and that not all texts mean what they are according to the masses. And

that’s how we slide into the theory that encapsulates the vision of my short.

Deconstruction theory makes us question everything we're told about,

anything. How meaning is basically non-existent and is a figment of our own

imaginations running wild (Derrida, 1970). The theory turns us into a much more

critical human being, as well as readers of literary texts, and forces us to ask

everything.

2

The reason why this theory is enticing to tackle is the contradiction

between it and the idea of detective investigation. An investigation deals with

analyzing, connecting the dots, assuming things are of significance when maybe

they’re not. This puts a heavy emphasis on the murder being not much more than

coincidental, or at least that’s what some told the detective. Deconstruction can

help us to question and revise everything we're told about the world—our

received ideas (Fadhillah, 2011).

2. Research Questions i. How a murder may not have an overarching plot, and just

be coincidental?

ii. How the result of a murder investigation may reveal the

opposite of what is right?

3. Significance of the study I hope that with the readers will realize that not every tragedy, or murder,

has some sort of overarching plot against the greater good. That bad things

happen, just because. My main mission is to make everyone read against the

grains more often and understand that not everything happens for a reason. The

characters, settings, and events within my short story will hopefully succeed in

illustrating the idea mentioned above. I do also wish that through this short story,

readers will reflect on how we as humans tend to assume things too often. We

have a perceived notion of trivial things that could have a negative impact.

Hopefully, everyone is going to slowly omit this negative habit.

3

Theoretical Background I. Methods and Procedure

In the 1960s, Jacques Derrida and a few other literary critics were upset

with what “Structuralists” push forward, that everything is defined by the opposite

concept. An example of this would be as such: light and dark, good and bad, boy

and girl, and a lot more where that came from. According to Derrida and his

fellow thinkers, the concept creates structural disadvantages of one over the other.

Especially in Western culture, they form unavoidable power structures, like

whites over the African-American, or man versus woman. Derrida didn’t see eye

to eye with this, which ground his gears and caused the coming of a new theory,

Deconstructionism.

In hindsight, Deconstructionism may seem like it just wants to reverse the

opposition, so turning "Man vs. Woman" into "Woman Vs. Man" without any

reason but equality. It's that, and more. Derrida didn’t just want to oppose

meaning, he wanted to flip it open in inside out, hence the name "deconstruction".

They ask questions to show that meaning is unstable as language relies heavily on

context. And depending on language, context won’t stay the same either.

This theory should help me deconstruct the world crime-solving, in that

the “solving “part might not be as just as we are used to thinking it is. How, in

reality, crime investigations rely heavily on biases and leaning more into

Structuralism.

II. Methods and Procedure In order to gain the essential information needed to carry on with the

making of this short story, I will be making use of two methods of data collection.

First, I will conduct an interview with an English Literature lecturer of Faculty of

Language and Arts Universitas Kristen Satya Wacana: Wahyu Seno Aji, M.Hum.

This is done to gain deeper insights into the theory of deconstructionism, as Mr.

Seno is known for his in-depth knowledge of literary theories, and I’ll be focusing

4

on its application and role in the real world. This should provide my creative

writing product with the theory’s ideas and enrich the world in which my

characters live in.

I will also interview a few Creative Writing Students within my major to

pry out any useful information I could utilize as samples, to understand how an

individual’s assumptions affects him/her on a daily basis. The information will

then help me in shaping up our main character, and truly illustrate just how a

person thinks and assumes concepts when given a situation in front of them.

My second method of data collection will be a library study to gain

information of how detective work is done, understanding the terminologies used

within a crime scene and also the procedures done within it. Since a main

character in the story is a detective, I would like to find out the inner workings of

an individual within an investigation.

III. Review of related studies.

Games such as LA Noire, developed in 2011 by Rockstar, approached the

genre also with the same mindset, albeit at a grander scale. Considered by gamers

to be one of the best story driven game Rockstar has ever made, the game

5

challenges you in to becoming a detective in the 90s solving murders. The

mechanics are simple, yet so hard to master. The game hinges on investigation

and interviews with suspects, every murder case has at least 3 to 4. Reading their

facial cues, seeing if what they say are true or lies to manipulate you, is something

so interesting to play. I’ll be heavily inspired by these mechanics when

approaching my own short story. And will be playing a lot of it as I write my

proposal.

In the pilot episode of Detective

Conan, a Japanese cartoon directed

by Kenji Kodama that first aired in

1996, while Shinichi and Ran were

on a date at a theme park they

were hit with a murder case. As

they were riding on the roller

coaster, the man right behind them

was unfortunately killed as they went through a tunnel. Turns out, the murderer

was the woman in front of Conan and Ran, who loved the man so much she did

not want him to marry someone else.

I was inspired by

two main ideas within

this episode. One was

the detective aspect of it,

looking at how Shinichi

connected he dots from

just the culprit’s tears

and missing necklace

showed how an above

average detective mind

works. This will help me shape the main character of my short story, and help me

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work the cogs in my character’s brain. Secondly, the love affair and jealousy part

of the episode. The culprit was an ex-lover of the murder victim, who got jealous

of his new girlfriend and hatches a plane to murder him with the necklace that he

gave and in the place that he gave it in. I’ll be taking notes on how to treat

fictional affairs through this episode, as despite its short runtime, the episode has a

deep dive into the matter.

Story Prototype I. Characters

1. Reza Ardyan

Age 35

Hair Dark Brown, Crewcut

Eyes Blackish brown

Build Tall and muscular

Intelligence Above average

Perks Open minded

Perks II Professional on the field

2. Tina Kitana

Age 25

Hair Long black hair

Eyes Blackish brown

Build Average Indonesian female height, medium built

Intelligence Only graduated Middle school

Perks Doesn’t wear revealing clothes when performing

Perks II A loving mother

7

II. Settings

1. Time a) On a mid-2018 Sunday night, around 12 a.m. to the

conclusion with the coming of the sunrise at about 6

a.m.

3. Ahmad Fadli

Age 28

Hair Short black hair

Eyes Blackish brown

Build Average height, meaty but not fat

Intelligence Graduated from Law school

Perks A loving husband and father

Perks II -

4. Wilasa Arsa

Age 23

Hair Long and wavy, dark brown with silver highlights

Eyes Blackish brown

Build Tall and medium

Intelligence Still in hasn’t finished his degree

Bad Jealous

Bad II Temperamental

8

2. Place a) At Kitana’s house, somewhere close to the city

Centre of Semarang.

III. Plot

1. Introduction a) Semarang, the clock strikes 12 and it’s dark outside.

Reza is at a room in the second floor, looking down

at the entrance. Police are canvasing the area, some

were putting the police line, others were taking

picture, a few were looking through an unmoving

body. Tina Kitana died, with a bullet hole in her

head.

b) He takes his gun out and points it down towards the

crowd of police, he measures for distance and wind.

c) An officer comes in and says they’re ruling it out as

suicide. Kitana’s body was found deceased holding

handgun to her left, and a usb thumb drive on her

right. There’s was trauma to her left cheek, causing

the skin to become red and inflamed.

d) Reza says this is a murder.

2. Raising Conflict a) Reza asks if they’ve asked for everyone’s alibi. The

officer tells him that they’ve pinpoint two as major

suspects.

b) Kitana’s husband, Ahmad Fadli, who was with her

the night she was murdered. He claims they had an

argument that night, and he was trying to calm

Kitana down, but Kitana won’t listen. Claiming his

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wife was temperamental, Fadli left her to bed not

long after the argument.

c) Kitana’s boyfriend, Wilasa Arsa. He claims to have

been the one to discover the body. That night Arsa

was texted by Kitana, saying she wanted to see him,

so Arsa decided to check on her. When he arrived,

she was already lifeless at the front door.

d) Reza asks for the others in the house, the daughter

and a housemaid.

e) Kirana, Kitana’s 10-year-old daughter. She woke

up at 12 am and heard “mom and dad in a heated

argument.

f) Housemaid - She was on the phone with her mother

when she heard a gunshot.

g) Reza asks for the maid’s cellphone, says the team

will look into the recorded conversation on your

phone’s memory.

3. Rising Conflict two a) Reza couldn’t pinpoint who the murderer is just yet,

and begins to interview each of the suspects one by

one.

b) Through playing good cop bad cop, Reza

discovered a few things.

c) Fadli lied, the argument was in fact heated, and both

parties were pretty much at it. The forensics team

found traces of Fadli’s DNA on Kitana’s left cheek,

which was red from dilated vessels underneath the

skin, she was slapped in the face. Fadli confessed,

but claimed there was no intention of murder, he

10

loved her dearly, and discovering that she’s been

having an affair was devastating to say the least.

d) Arsa lied too, they did manage to meet up. But they

also argued, Arsa claims he wanted to cut ties with

her, as he feels utter guilt for his girlfriend. Arsa

firmly states that he doesn’t want to see her

anymore, but she was persistent and kept saying

how she’ll expose Arsa to his girlfriend. Arsa got

angry and challenged, and left immediately. Arsa

manages to get a few meters away from the house

before hearing a gunshot.

e) This was also a lie. A made up story to create an

alibi, since Arsa doesn’t have a girlfriend.

Something else went down that he doesn’t want to

tell.

4. Climax a) One of the forensics team gave the USB Thumb

drive that was clenched on Kitana’s right hand to

Reza after it was later found out that the contents of

the drive consists of raw recordings and a final mix

of Kitana’s debut single. Reza didn’t really think

anything of it, and kept it with him for the rest of

the investigation.

b) Something’s odd about one of the victim’s Alibi,

but Reza couldn’t put a finger on whose is it. So he

opened his notes and read again. They’re perfect

alibis, both of them. Perfect.

c) Almost, too perfect. Reza decides to go at it from

another angle.

d) He asks of Arsa again.

e) Arsa asks why is he here again.

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f) Reza got straight to the point, and ask why he lied.

g) Arsa said he swears he would never lie about

murdering someone or having a girlfriend.

h) Reza then asks why he mentions those two

specifically. He never said anything about

girlfriends.

i) Arsa duped, and continued find excuses.

j) Reza then threw the usb from the forensics team to

the table.

k) Arsa asks what that was.

l) Reza told him it’s his ticket to jail. That they got

him, him fleeing from the crime scene with the

timestamps and everything. Give it up, Reza

shouted.

m) Arsa teared up, anxious, confessed.

n) It was all for love, he wanted to save Tina from the

abusive husband.

5. Resolution a) Arsa was arrested, the police start cleaning the area.

b) One of the officers come to Reza and asks how he

did it, there was never proof.

c) Reza said he bluffed the perfect alibi to death. And

gave the officer the usb drive.

d) The officer chuckled and left.

e) The maid went to ask Reza why Arsa killed her

employer.

f) Reza said it was all out of love and white knighting,

and explained to her everything.

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g) She tells Reza, that the husband was never abusive.

Tonight he just lost control of his temper, and even

then all he could’ve muster was a slap.

h) Reza smiled. And said this murder was happened in

vain.

IV. Point of view The story will be of the first-person perspective, following our detective, Reza

Ardyan. This is done to effectively put the readers into how I want them be

conditioned, have the impact I want them to feel. And understand the message

that I try to tell them without missing the point.

13

Resources Shmoop Editorial Team. “Deconstruction.” Shmoop, Shmoop University, 11 Nov.

2008, www.shmoop.com/deconstruction/.

Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. “Deconstruction.” Encyclopædia

Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 19 June 2017,

www.britannica.com/topic/deconstruction.

McNamara, Brendan, director. L.A. Noire. Rockstar Games, 2011.

Fadhilah, Lia. “DECONSTRUCTION ANALYSIS ON MAJOR FEMALE

CHARACTER IN FILM: A Destiny of Her Own.” State Islamic University

"Syarif Hidayatullah", 2011, repositori.uin-alauddin.ac.id/7847/1/FITRAH

ARDINI AM.PDF.

Aoyama, Gosho. “Detective Conan: Cased Closed.” Weekly Shonen Sunday, 19

Jan. 1994.

14

Summary Reza, a capable young detective, is appointed to solve a murder case

involving one of the local rising dangdut star, Tina Kitana. A few days before her

debut single was about to bomb the charts, she was found dead in her house, with

a gun in her hand and a bullet in the head. Being ruled out as suicide, it was the

young detective who found oddities in the body, to their surprise, it was murder.

With the help of his sidekick Kusnaidi, Reza has to figure out who tried to

make it look like a suicide and why. Along the way, the dynamic duo encountered

two possible suspects: the loveable husband Ahmad, and the young pretty boy

named Arsa, who both had a quarrel with Kitana the night of the murder. Ahmad

claims Kitana was upset and out of control, and that he was just trying to calm her

down. Arsa, who allegedly had an affair with Kitana, claims he was summoned by

her, and found her dead when he arrived. When it was later found out that they

were both manufacturing false statements, Reza and Kusnaidi decided to up their

game.

I

KITANA

Semarang never tried to show itself as a chill weathered city, that title has

been taken by its neighboring little brother Salatiga. Tonight, however, the air had

caught a fever.

Given that everyone living here were of the higher-class economy, the

housing complex was close to the city center. Fortunately, it was hidden enough

that those who seek tranquility will not be dissatisfied. At first glance, the house

had large footprint. Upon further inspection, however, it’s aesthetically calm

demeanor - with its grey-black oriented Scandinavian design, would explain why

it never really caught the attention of the housing complex.

A semi-mesomorphic figure stood on the balcony of the second-floor

master bedroom, palms by the railings, his blackish brown pupils moved rapidly,

scanning the scene down by the entrance.

Reza was his name, and cracking a case was his game.

Some of the officers had just started canvassing the area, taking pictures of

any point of interest, that meant cats passing through if they were being vigilant.

A human body laid still, unmoved and frozen, surrounded by paramedics

and officers alike. A bullet wound was always pretty typical for a murder, what

was out of the ordinary was the figure itself. The deceased was Tina Kitana, the

rising local dangdut1 singer everyone’s been raving about. Known by the masses

as a good girl, she was an overall positive figure, who broke the culture of

everyone in her line of work being considered as nothing more than ‘safe-for-

1 Java based music genre.

II

work’ strippers. If the paparazzi got a hold of this, the house would be swarming

with a stampede of flashing lights.

Midnight snacks are a thing of beauty, a favorite of many in the force,

especially during the inevitable monthly paperwork binge. Reza was always fond

of the sight, everyone working in simultaneously. Tonight, the snack was replaced

with a bloody body.

“Man, this is not what I signed up for.” uttered a policeman. Reza smirked,

this was everything the brown uniforms agreed to when they signed the terms and

agreements of becoming an officer of the law.

Reza took a few seconds of his time sucking in the smell of cement and

fresh paint before he took his gun out, pointing it towards the crowd of police

officers down where the body laid. The 35-year-old calculated the possible angles,

if this was an inside job it. Was it?

“For now, I’m thinking suicide.” an officer approached Reza from behind,

his face showed signs the officer was unsure of what he just said.

“You think, Kusnaidi?” Reza assured; his trigger finger loosens.

The officer inhaled deep, the cigar in his mouth lit orange. “Self-inflicted

gunshot, maybe she was caught.”

“Stage of deceased?” Now Reza’s face is slightly turned towards the

officer, his eyes didn’t follow suit. Officer Kusnaidi let out a huge puff of smoke,

“Not long, it’s fresh.”

The gun that was aimed strong had fallen on to Reza’s side, he knew he

had to see it for himself. He turned and walked without giving the officer a second

look.

“You’re welcome?” shouted Kusnaidi jokingly.

III

Shuffling down the stairs, Reza paced towards the body. Nothing could

ever cover up such doll like beauty, not even a bullet to the head. Her slim-line

facial features screamed celeb status, while her cherry red lips remained agape

ever so slightly. The air grew colder by the minute, and so was Kitana, paler every

step of the way.

“Take a wild guess.” from the side, Reza wasn’t sure if the paramedic

addressed him, but his brain cogs began shifting nonetheless.

“It’s the husband, I tell you!” claimed one of the officers.

“Quit yer yapping,” Another seemingly denied, like he was the one

offended. “Then why is he the one sobbing in the house? I don’t see the lover

doing the same.”

The lover? There was an affair? Reza froze for a bit, this was too cliché for his

liking. He took a quick glance at the dead body, scanning any oddities that could

lead to some sort of hint.

“Someone tried to stage this as a suicide,” Reza said, acknowledging the

gun on her left hand. Kitana’s left hand was palming something, he had no idea

what it was just yet. The young detective grabbed a set of rubber gloves from one

of the paramedics and began his venture. The paramedics, along with a few if the

surrounding officers, verted their sighs towards the young detective. Despite his

rather young age, Reza is fluent at his job, so no one dared question his

hypothesis.

“See that bullet hole,” the 30-year-old detective pointed his forefinger

towards the bloody circular void on her forehead. “I don’t see any burnt marks on

the skin around here.”

IV

Reza’s fingers pranced around a little more before he noticed her right

cheeks were red, the marks shaped almost to that of a handprint, there was a

struggle. “The skin right here,” explained Reza as everyone else watched, “Is

inflamed, possibly from a hard impact, like a slap.”

“That’s what she said!” shouted one of the officers.

“Not the time Yan.” replied the other.

Skimming through the body, Reza looked for anything out of the ordinary.

Kitana had her gown on, she was ready for bed, which could mean she wasn’t at

all responsible for her own demise. It hadn’t been long before her passing, so her

body was still fairly flexible. Her right hand, fisted, untouched and flower scented

from the body lotion she probably wore daily. A quick glance and Reza knew she

was holding onto something, small and possibly crucial, to her or someone else.

He took a split second to eyeball guess what it was before grabbing her hand and

gently yank her finger open, something white fell to the ground.

“A thumb drive?” Reza unconsciously thought out loud. Whispers,

murmurs, and question marks flooded everyone else’s minds. Why a thumb drive?

One of the paramedics took the initiative and pulled out a Ziploc bag out of her

jacket.

“We’ll put it in here as evidence sir.” Reza dropped it in, and stood up

before a crowd that’s still bombarded with unanswered questions.

“Sir?” the paramedic called to Reza.

Reza looked at her dead in the eyes and said, “This is murder.”

__________________________________________________________________

“Murder?” the paramedic gasped, so were the others around them. Reza

dozed off, he panicked a little, the culprit’s still within the premises.

V

“Get the body to a secure location,” instructed the detective still frozen, his

mannerisms tried to remain calm and collected. “I want every crevice analyzed.

Report if you find anything.”

“Yes sir!”

Kitana was bagged and zipped immediately for transport, everyone else

scattered searching for more clues. The air was getting below Reza’s comfort, or

was it just his guts telling him this was going to be one long night.

“The gun was on her,” Kusnaidi argued, his beard had gone moist from all

the running around. “Planning on being the devil’s advocate here just so you don’t

go overboard.”

“I’m looking at all of our options,” Reza calmly rebutted, “clean as it

maybe, this is not suicide.” His hands folded around his chest, a sign his

colleagues refer to as ‘Reza in the zone’. Kusnaidi was one of the first ones to

have doubts, but he didn’t know how to react knowing this may be a murder case.

“You’ve got everyone’s alibi?” Reza asked as they walked into the house,

his face lit with determination, definitely zoned in hard. Kusnaidi took out a glass

slab out of his front left pocket, his hands tapping on the fruit branded piece of

technology.

“I’ve got a few,” he answered, still swiping up and down his phone. “But I

need you to take a look at him first.”

Sat by the leather sofa, a middle-aged man alone in his thoughts. He had

short scruffy hair, and face so white is might have been powdered.

“That’s Kitana’s husband,” uttered Kusnaidi. “titled ‘Most loving

husband’ by Jawa Pos just last month.”

“Ahmad?” Reza read the headline out loud, loud enough for Ahmad

himself to notice and immediately stood up.

VI

“Yes, detective?” he tried his best to sound stable, his weak demeanor said

otherwise.

“Please,” Reza replied in an attempt to calm him down, his right palms

facing upwards as he pointed towards the chair with all five fingers. “Take a seat.”

Ahmad hesitated, nodded in agreement, and reconnected his bottom

portion with the black leather covered cushion.

“Tell me everything that lead to this, Mr. Ahmad.” Reza politely

demanded, sitting on the opposite side of the table, Kusnaidi followed suit.

Ahmad began his tale with a huge sigh. “It was almost midnight,” he

trembled, mouth barely open. “Kitana didn’t feel like cuddling tonight, she

wanted to have at me.” Reza caught Ahmad’s eye contact, or the lack thereof it.

He kept staring at the clear glass table, where a glass of water remained stationary.

“Elaborate.” Reza keeping his sights on any oddities in Ahmad’s body

language, and found it difficult to read, as there was so little of it.

“I tried my best to calm her down,” Ahmad continued. “Maybe she was

tired and stressed out from all the promotion she had to do. Her new album is

close to it’s release.”

Kitana was temperamental, or at least according to Ahmad’s alibi. “She

was being unreasonable, over a misunderstanding.” Ahmad paused and inhaled

deep, his hands scrubbing on his forehead. Kusnaidi jotted down his story, and his

actions. “I didn’t know what to do, or say.”

“And you remain calm in all this?” Kusnaidi assured, his left eyebrow

raised just a smidge above his right. Reza maintained eye contact, he learned a lot

during interrogations, and one of them being that eyes could never lie. And so far,

he’s not impressed.

“She got so upset and out of control,” Ahmad answered, in a higher tone.

“I left her alone and went to bed-”

“And you’re sure that’s all you did?” Interrupted the young detective

whose unwavering presence seemed choking to Ahmad. He looked paler than a

VII

freshly delivered mannequin. Ahmad tried his best to hide, whatever it is he is

hiding, swallowing air and as he kept his eyes glued to the ground.

“Is that it, Mr. Ahmad?” Kusnaidi repeated.

There was nothing but a nod. And silence. And Ahmad was neither scared

nor in mourning, which caused the detective and the officer to drown in question

marks and exclamation point. Kitana had always been known for her good girl

persona, the “istri” material as a lot of the locals would say. She had an infectious

smile, a smile that puts the heart of men and women alike into a summer in Bali.

To be bombarded with a story of how icy she was, Reza had his reservations.

Still, he needed evidence, which he lacked.

“Thank you for your time?” Reza uttered as he got on his feet.

“We’re sorry for your lost.” Kusnaidi added.

“Thank you.” Ahmad nodded, and finally gave another glance towards the

two law enforcers standing tall and gigantic. And then looked the other way.

“Where are we going now?” Reza asked as the walk to the front door,

back to where the body was. Kusnaidi pulled out his handy dandy fruit branded

smartphone, and pressed on the glass a couple of times before pointing towards

the front gates. There, two police officers stood while a tall young man - with long

wavy dark brown hair accented with silver highlights talked. He looked worried.

“Wilasa Arsa,” explained the officer that’s been by Reza side for a while.

“He is what a lot of us like to call destroyer of relationships.”

“He’s the one Kitana’s having an affair with?” Reza asked in

confirmation. The officer nodded, opened his pack of cigar and stuck one in

between his lips.

“May I?” Kusnaidi asked pointing the lighter to Reza’s face. Before Reza

could finish his nod, puffs of smoke were done whooshing out of Kusnaidi’s

mouth and nose.

VIII

“Don’t start.” Kusnaidi uttered out of the blue. He saw Reza’s eyes, and

they told him to stop this unhealthy addiction.

“Didn’t say a word.” Reza replied smirking while he averted his sights

forward.

“Didn’t have to,” The smoking officer argued. “Lay off my back will ya,

it’s gonna be a long night, and I need this.” he then proceeded to vacuum in deep,

which oranged the butt and crackled as it shortened.

When they got to where the Arsa was, he seemed awfully fidgety, pacing

back and forth. What surprised the detective most was his age, Arsa looked like a

kid fresh out of college.

“Mr. Arsa?” the detective called.

“Yes, detective.” There was an air of immature masculinity in his tone.

The two law enforcers introduced themselves, Reza explained the situation

at hand, keeping crucial evidence like the possible slapped cheeks and a USB

drive to himself.

“When I got here, she was already gone.” Arsa sounded sure of himself

when he said it, like he was innocent, like he needed to seem innocent. Reza’s

countless encounters with perps were no easy feat, which was why doubts were

pouring onto him. Arsa claimed that he was called here, phoned in, claiming she

wanted to meet him.

“Kitana said it was urgent,” Arsa explained, his tone brave and bold.

“I got here as fast as I could. But it was too late. I was too late.” His eyes

immediately averted towards where Ahmad was sitting. Whatever it was he was

feeling, was now changed into rage and agony. “It’s him, I know it!”

“Ahmad?” Kusnaidi most showed a hint of smugness. “You gotta be on

some deep crap to think that out loud.” He smirked and giggled while Reza was

still silent, trying to get a read on their second person if interests.

“You gotta believe me!” Arsa persuaded, sounding desperate this time.

IX

“He’s the most lovable hubby of the year sonny jim,” Kusnaidi replied

hastily, on the brink of laughter. Arsa looked irritated, pacing faster with every

step and breathing anxiousness in and out.

“Mr. Arsa,” Reza confronted him face to face. “We’re here for your alibi,

not your opinion.” Arsa swallowed his pride, and nodded hastily. “Anything else

of use for us?”

Arsa shook his head, “No sir, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Arsa.” Reza smiled, and moved back into

the house. Kusnaidi shuffled his way alongside the young detective, and was not

impressed.

“We could’ve gotten more out of him.” the officer’s voice out of breath,

probably from all the fast walking he had to do to catch up with Reza’s fast and

thudding steps.

They went past where they sat face to face with the husband, a black

leather sofa and a coffee table sat peacefully by the living room, and got to the

kitchen. There, two petrified individuals sat by the dinner table, teakwood infused

with a touch of modern as 4 steel legs push the white tiled floor. The maid, and

Kitanas’s only daughter stayed, cooped up under one big blue blanket. They had

one officer with them.

“They were shouting.” The twelve-year-old explained.

“Mommy was shouting?” Reza asked, his tone far softer and leaned more

into whispering.

The daughter shook her head, “They both were,” she continued. She

couldn’t remember what time she was awakened by the commotion, all the little

girl recalled were a bunch of zeroes by the digital clock on her wall.

“Midnight.” Reza murmured.

Near the kitchen sink was Kusnaidi talking with the other witness.

X

“I was on the phone, nggih2, with my husband.” The maid said, Javanese

engraved deep within her DNA. “He’s in Zimbabwe, Indonesian Ambassador’s

driver, nembe mawon3.” She glanced at the floor a few times, like a bobble head

on a speeding car, her voice were a speaker with the volume knob turn to the

lowest.

“Did sampeyan4 hear something odd?” Kusnaidi politely questioned. He

was of Salatigan origins, and people there has a much silkier tone in their voices,

so was his. The maid nodded, her eyes widened, like she was slapped in the face.

She went on to retell every detail of what she heard. How there were screams, of

both male and female pitch.

“They were shouting. Both of them.” Her loud accented Indonesian

grabbed Reza by the ears, and spun him around. Without hesitation he marched

forward. “Both?” Reza asked.

Kusnaidi handed him a first generation smartphone that was taken straight

out of the year 2007, with its Mango logo on the brink of disappearing, trying to

stay alive. “She said she used this to contact her husband,” the officer explained.

Reza got little nostalgic, palming the phone like he did when he first got into the

force.

“I’m sure we can contact the provider,” Kusnaidi suggested. For a man

with only a few strains of black left in his hair, he seems to have good grasp on

technology. “They keep a record of every phone call.”

__________________________________________________________________

____________

Subuh was a just a few digits away, yet the house decided to keep its

calmness outside the gates, where the street lights are dim and everyone still

enveloped under their sheets. Reza statued, sitting down by a plastic stool, on his

2 Nggih: a way to express politeness in Javanese. 3 Nembe Mawon: a polite way of saying “had just” in Javanese, time related. 4 Sampeyan: addressing “you” in a polite way.

XI

pupils were bright white lights from the tiny screen it’s reflecting. Everyone

others in uniform pacing back and forth between rooms.

Kusnaidi stood by the dining table, just a few steps of where the detective

was brooding. No kind of air conditioning was in sight, but a heater was probably

needed to counteract the piercing cold the living felt within them moment.

“Still no sign of you solving this huh?” Kusnaidi moved right next to

Reza, sarcasm hid behind his worried look. Had a head shake or a ‘no’ was given,

it would’ve been a sign they were on the right track, but the old man knew this

silence meant trouble.

“Get them into separate rooms,” Reza uttered as he got on his feet. “ Arsa

and Fadli, I need to speak with them alone.”

Kusnaidi grinned and looked at Reza with intent. “Should we do the

routine?”

In buddy cop movies, there’s a role that the two main cops are often each

assigned to during interrogations. One plays the good cop, remaining calm and

collected throughout. The other acts tough and out of whack, like he could kill at

any minute, hence the role bad cop. Reza grew up watching American movies,

and he loved this idea of manipulating perps into submission. Which is why when

he met Kusnaidi a few years ago, the detective decided that this was the best

method of gaining advantage.

Reza smiled, and nodded as he continued walking away from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

It was still a house of brown, a group of policemen were seen stationed by

the front yard, another set stood by the gates, and a pack more roaming around the

house. The chaos has slowly calmed down. The dynamic duo was about to solve

this no matter what.

XII

Reza planned well enough for anytime the ‘routine’ was about to be pulled

off, he’s got all the scenario mapped in his head like when Doctor Strange looked

into the future from billions of outcomes towards the endgame. Kusnaidi had

always been a useful assist, they’ve opened and shut cases together countless

times. Many saw them as a pair of cheetah preying on a herd of sheep, guilty

sheep.

Their first deer, the nice husband who lied.

Empty was the kitchen. Kitana’s little girl and the housemaid were both

moved to the living room, enveloped atop a much more comfortable sofa, still

under the same blue ‘blankie’. Nothing but frying pans and uncooked chicken by

the counter, a crowd of steel and slaughtered meat were the best group of

audience for the roleplay to begin.

“Why empty the room?” Ahmad asked, his nerves still intact.

“Call it an psych eval,” Kusnaidi uttered, honing the persona of the bad

cop. “Cause we sure think we’re the only sane person in this room.”

What had been a calm Ahmad, now played a lot with his fingers, tapping

his left foot every tick of the tock. “I don’t know what you mean officer.”

“Are we the crazy ones?” Kusnaidi’s sarcastic remark caught the husband

off guard, loudness was jarring in a silent environment. Reza took the stool in

front of him and made himself comfortable. The good cop, calm and collected.

“Mr.Ahmad,” the good cop began, now fully immersed in the role. “It

seems that your recollection of the event that just happened, has

some...inconsistencies.”

“What? How?”

Kusnaidi slammed his hand by the counter. “It means ya lyin’ chump!”

“Tell us the truth Mr. Ahmad, you owe us that much.”

“But, I don’t know what you mean.”

XIII

Reza looked at the accused dead in his eyes, his poker face covering a bold

smirk.

“Do we need to leak the tape online detective?” Kusnaidi remarked, which

shook Ahmad to the core. The hands that were folded on the glazed wooden top

of the kitchen counter, were now in between his thighs, clenching hard on the

rounded stool. Speechless, the husband remained quiet.

“We don’t want to harm you, mas5.” the Detective uttered, changing the

way he addressed Ahmad to stoop down his level. Ahmad was no longer calm, he

was the other side of the coin entirely, tensed and quite. No attempt of making eye

contact was made.

“If ya got nothin’ to say,” Kusnaidi spout in the midst of all the silence.

“Then I’m gonna ask the internet what they think of husbands who loves to slap

their wives.

“ALRIGHT!” Ahmad let out a huge cry, his voice echoed and bounced of

the woks and frying pans. Reza noticed his fingers were trembling, trying his

hardest to not break down cry.

“We were at it each other’s throats,” Ahmad started talking. “It was a

heated back and forth. How could it not? I just found out my wife was having an

affair. I-I gave her EVERYTHING!” Ahmad broke down, and sobbed. His hands

enveloping his head, like a grounded child.

“We found traces of your DNA on Kitana’s left cheek, which was when

we found her. Care to explain why it was inflamed mas?” Reza asked.

Ahmad sobbed a little more, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, his

young and happy go lucky face many saw on TV were not present here. What the

media often call “all understanding hubby” was not with us. Tonight, Ahmad was

a different animal.

“I confronted her about it, knowing the truth, but she got all defensive and

started getting angry about it.” Ahmad wiped his face with his shirt, sniffed in

some of the juices that leaked, and continued. “You’d think with the truth at hands

she’ll give up and just admit it. But no, she started to mock me! Somehow, I

5 Addressing a male politely in Javanese.

XIV

wasn’t good enough for her, I was never there when she needed me the most. All

those cliché lines of a cheater. I was devastated. I was emotional.”

Kusnaidi walked towards the big grey fridge behind Ahmad, grabbed a

bottle of water, and gave it to the sobbing man after prying the lid open. “So, you

slapped her for it?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ahmad explained. “It was an honest mistake.”

“I want to believe you mas Ahmad, but murders over affairs are quite

common in my line of work.” Reza still keeping tabs on Ahmad’s actions, his

hands folded possibly to signal Ahmad he wasn’t playing around.

“NO! Detective, I could never-” and started drowning in tears yet again. “I

would never hurt Kitana, never.”

“That’s what someone said to us too, before we found out he beat his wife

to death with a baseball bat.” Kusnaidi sarcastically remarked. “A steel baseball

bat.”

Ahmad had no other reply, succumbing to his collected sadness.

“Thank you for your honesty mas Ahmad,” Reza said as he got off the

metal stool. “We’ll find the man responsible for her death.”

They let Ahmad go, for now. Kusnaidi walked out of the room to grab

hold of Arsa while Reza returned back to his throne, the metal stool that froze his

fingertips every time he touched it. The detective sat there, piecing every possible

scenario he could that was logical.

Was Ahmad playing?

Faking? Real tears?

Telling the truth?

All these questions. He rested his chin by the back of his hand, and shut

his eyes. Reza realized he was tired, and sleepy, dozing off into a dream state.

XV

Subuh6 was just a few tick tocks away.

__________________________________________________________________

__

“Reza!” A voice woke Reza up from his power nap. He looked up to see Kusnaidi

and an officer with Arsa sitting by the stool mushed between them.

“You look energetic.” the old geezer said as he walked over to Reza, who

was still trying to regain his balance and conscience after the little trip to

wonderland.

“You can go now.” The other officer nodded and walked out of the

kitchen.

“Why am I here detective?” Arsa asked, as un-relaxed as he could. “I

thought I gave you all the info you needed.”

“Info?” the bad cop returned, trying to hold back laughing out loud. “Info!

Did ya hear that, detective?” He took a sip of a Teh Botol that was in his hand, the

bottle was glassed carved and coke-like, only available outside of Jakarta, which

explains why it looked so foreign to Reza.

“What’s so funny?” Arsa seemingly confused.

“Oh ya know, the fact that your quote-on-quote, information, is out of

whack.” Kusnaidi said, making air-quotes with both hands.

“Out of whack?!” his tone showed disbelief, and raised as Arsa challenged

Kusnaidi head-on. “If you had done your job right then you would’ve-”

BANG! Reza slammed that counter.

“Sit down.”

6 The first schedule of the day for Moslem prayers.

XVI

Arsa swallowed his pride, and sat back down. His confrontational attitude

was replaced with a worried look in his face. He adjusted his jacket and pulled his

hair back behind his ears.

“Whoa,” Kusnaidi jumped. “That escalated quickly.”

Reza judged Arsa eyes as he seeked the truth. “You manufactured a false

statement, in a police investigation.”

Arsa shook his head, his lips a squiggly line as he does so. “I promise you

nothing I said was-”

“True?” Reza interrupted. “You better take this seriously or I’m going to

make sure you’ll never see the light of day.” the detective was still glued to the

stool, and yet his body was so pushed forward that to Arsa he was a towering titan

ready to eat him up alive.

Kusnaidi stood still soundless, in other words petrified of what Reza was

showcasing. “I guess you could do double, huh.”

Despite his strong outward presence, Arsa was less of a lion once cornered

into submission. He became quiet, and cowardly, like a cub in a ditch of hyenas.

Reza on the other hand, has never shown his strong suit, especially not when role

- playing. Kusnaidi has never scratched his head harder.

“Look, kid,” Kusnaidi said, breaking the silence. “Ya don’t wanna piss

him off.”

A standoff, neither Arsa nor Reza dared to speak. Reza knew if he played

his cards right and did the switcheroo to the bad cop, without warning the old

geezer about it, Arsa shut down his tough boy act. No matter how preman7 he

looks, shown by the grown long hair, the mass he’s built in his body, and the

sharp jawline that was always 90˚ from the biker’s neck, deep down the Detective

knew he was still just a kid.

Arsa sigh, gazed the wooden kitchen counter vehemently, before speaking

up.

7 Thug, or punk.

XVII

“She’d asked me to come,” Arsa started, with no guts to look at Reza in

the eyes.

“Kitana?”

“Yes. I was on the brink of cutting ties with her, I was ready for something

a little more serious. I’ve got a girlfriend.” Arsa sighed.

“Congratulations.” Kusnaidi looked the other way when he burped out

sarcasm. Arsa’s face didn’t hold back the utter embarrassment, frowning, visibly

paling.

“I-” Arsa duped and gulped. “Maybe she was disappointed, or something,

I’m not sure. But when I told her I didn’t want to see her again, she was mad, she

didn’t wanna hear it. She’ll expose me for all she cares, she wanted to keep

whatever it is we have.”

Kusnaidi didn’t say a word, and shuffled his way towards the door.

“You’ve got this one.”

Reza nodded.

“I felt threatened,” Arsa continued. “Like she was out to ruin my life, so

I…”

“Capped her right then and there.” Reza interrupted.

Arsa hopped out of his stool in disbelief, “NO!” he shouted. “I left,

detective. I was tired of her acts.”

Arsa glanced at the kitchen counter, realizing there was a phone all along,

recording every single word he’s produced. Hastily he returned to sitting down.

“I got on my bike and left,” Arsa paused, trying to keep his voice sounding

as non-threatening or on the brink of crying as possible. “I got to maybe the

entrance gate to the complex, about 5 meters from here, before I heard the

gunshot.”

__________________________________________________________________

The moon was still a freshly replaced light bulb, and Subuh had been on

their backs for a while now. Reza had his bottom kissing the leather cushion of

the living room sofa, where they’re first interview was held. Kusnaidi was just by

XVIII

the entrance door, kissing death by the lips, and blowing out it’s breathe in a

blow. The place where Kitana last exhaled had been police lined, and a few of the

remaining officers was sent back to the precinct, along with the daughter and the

housemaid.

“We should head back now,” Kusnaidi said, beating the cigar’s life out

with his boots. Faint whispers from a Masjid nearby, a calling for the call to

prayer, the Adzan was making haste.

Before Reza was able to get up from where he took a quick long blink, one

of the forensics swung the front door open. Kusnaidi’s legs were noodles all of a

sudden. “Geez man, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

The forensic woman walked in carrying a laptop with the flash drive found

with Kitana’s body stuck onto its side.

“Sir, the contents of the drive has nothing to do with the case.” she uttered

in the disappointment.

“Show it to us.” Reza’s voice a puny whisper, he was low on battery.

The laptop was placed gently by the table, it wasn’t fully turned off so the

screen greeted them to the desktop immediately as it was propped up.

“From the looks of it, the drive was a recent purchase,” the lady explained.

“We took a glance at the activity log, and life time usage showed less than a week

of file transfer.” It was a simple process to everyone but the old geezer,

understanding what he witnessed on the screen of the laptop was rocket science,

like what he had seen in movies. Words and numbers covered the laptop’s glass

surface, and yet his mind only saw lines.

“I’m getting too old for this shi-”

“What did you find?” the detective asked, holding on to what was to him a

light at the end of his tunnel. The lady closed all the programs, and the cursor slid

to a disk icon titled ‘KTv1’ by the right side of the screen. Eyebrows were raised.

“Once you see what’s inside, it’ll make sense.” the woman said as she

slammed the double-click.

XIX

FINAL MIX

The title of a folder which greeted them, sitting alone inside, on an empty

white space. Reza notices her middle finger caressing the glass touchpad, gliding

from right to left, and then tapping on it twice. What showed up was a single

audio file, which piqued the young detective’s interests.

Track 1 - Not My Lover

“Let’s hear it.” Reza laid back and drowned in the sofa, his eyes were

black holes ready to suck in reality, but his ears were wide open.

Gendang8 fades in, and the flute following after. Before they knew what

was coming up, a male voice shouted for the heavens with a count to three. It was

the typical track you’d hear in weddings and local gatherings, having an ethnic

color to the melody that consists mostly of major notes. And then, Kitana’s voice

soared through the room. No no no no no

Not my lover

No no no no no

Fly away

Missing you, beautiful

Missing you, don’t break my heart

Still you’re

No no no no no

Not my lover

No no no no no

Don’t break my heart

8 Indonesian instrument used mostly in traditional dangdut

XX

The lyrics repeated itself three times before it ended. Kusnaidi seemed

jiggy, his head a tittle bobbing back and forth. There were a lot of vocables

sprinkled it, like peppers to salt. This was not Reza’s cup of tea.

“So, it’s her debut single?” Kusnaidi asked as the song ended. Reza had

his palms covering his lips, the thinking pose as it were referred to by his

colleagues.

“I’m assuming it’s the non-mastered version,” the lady explained, closing

the tabs with her fingertips.

Reza sat up straight, and began thumb tapping his glass slab, letters pop

with every clickety-clack.

“Deciphering the meaning of the song Mr. Detective?” Kusnaidi snorted,

knowing Reza’s got a deep distaste for dangdut. Kitana’s known for reaching the

lower-class economy with her music, meaning the beats, rhythm, lyrics and

everything that shapes her music is tailored with absolute simplicity in mind.

Although, her persona of never having worn revealing clothes and dressed more

like Ariana Grande than a drag queen in a lot of her live shows does rub the

upper-middle class right, which was why she gained the popularity with all kinds

of people, unfortunately Reza’s not one of them.

“Acceptable,” Reza spout while still engaged with his phone. “Still not my

jam.”

Kusnaidi caught a glimpse of the blinding square light by the detective’s

face. “Then why are you jotting it down?” He said sarcastically.

“No reason,” Reza answered, locking his phone. “I like poetry.”

“Yeah, right.”

The old geezer got up and stretched himself, his vocal cords vibed and

hummed in E flat, Subuh was about to knock on their doors. Reza had enough

experience to understand the track had a deeper undertone, despite such a dumbed

down string of words, but he didn’t care for it too much.

“Do we need to decompress the audio sir?” the forensic woman asked.

“Maybe enhance it for any subtle spike in the wave we could use?”

XXI

Shaking his head was Reza’s first thought, and yet he remained frozen.

Something was bugging the detective, something he couldn’t quite put a finger

on. Something he should’ve caught onto during the interrogation. What was it?

He rubbed his chin and glared the air. “I missed something.”

“Any item of interests we could use as evidence?” Kusnaidi said, pacing

back and forth like molasses going uphill.

“So far the only concrete evidence we have are the ones with the deceased

when we found her, surveillance footage from the complex cameras, the ID Card

of all the witnesses and suspects, there was an empty glass and a smartphone we

found on this table here when we first arrived.”

The old geezer stopped in his tracks. “Why’d you mention the empty

glass?”

“Kitana’s fingerprints were on them,” the forensics lady explained,

opening up pictures of it to show to Reza. “We’ll be analyzing the contents of

what she last drank before her demise.”

It was a perfectly normal glass, tube like and clear like it had just been

bought a few days prior. Luminarc, the type to be held by the higher class

economy every morning, during breakfast, on a beach in Bali. Traces of water

hung by the sides, like teardrops on a cheek, it caught Reza’s thought process for

a split second. Why would she succumb to thirst if it were suicide? The young

detective rationing the idea the murder was the only right answer.

“Whose phone was it?” Reza asked, pointing his mocha skinned finger at a

phone in the picture. Tiny for the current size standards, but big enough for small

hands. Kitana’s hands.

“It’s passcode encrypted sir.” the lady in brown swiped the touchpad left

with her two fingers, and a more up-close picture of the phone slid from the right.

On the screen was a prompt to type in the passcode or use a form of face scanning

technology to unlock the phone.

“The latest and greatest technology has to offer,” Kusnaidi grumbled. “Her

pockets go deep huh?”

XXII

Murder cases of well-known individuals were not something out of the

ordinary. Celebrities, philanthropist, government officials, The dynamic duo had

seen it all. Some cases they solved within minutes of questioning the first witness,

in another Reza closed and shut the case after only looking at the crime scene

pictures without Kusnaidi as much as lift a finger.

Everyone sat in silence, Reza hunched forward as the forensic lady stood

up for a quick smoke. And from a far, a calling ensued.

Allahuakbar Allahuakbar

Subuh has arrived.

A prayer room was set up on an empty room near the kitchen door, since

the Masjid was a 10 minute walk from where they were and a case was still in

progress, the Muslim detectives and officers decided to set up camp.

4.30 a.m.

They took turns praying, and the young detective went first. Kusnaidi

waited by the sofa with his sleeves rolled up, ready for wudhu. Reza looked at his

notification, swiped a few of them including an Islamic reminder app before going

in for prayer. During all this, Ahmad was the only suspect who went in, Arsa

didn’t seem to mind missing the morning call, as he slept soundly near where the

non-Muslim officers hung around, taking a breather after all the hectic hours.

Orange haze began enveloping the blackness in the sky. Reza stood by the

door gazing up, his hand palming the drive. There was still no clear evidence that

either suspects were the killer, and this is driving Reza to his limits. His head got

heavier by the minute, and a deus ex machina was needed to put an end to this.

The young detective’s brain went through a process of rewind, and

scanned through the crevices of his memories. How Ahmad looked bleak and

XXIII

weak when they met, and yet managed to lie, why? How Arsa was so sure of

Ahmad’s evil intentions, and yet decided to procure a false testimony, why? How

they both seem to have perfect alibis even after the re-questioning, coincidence?

Gears were grinded, and Reza was putting together a puzzle that had missing

pieces.

Kusnaidi got out of the little make shift Musholla and slid his bare feet

into the socks he took out of the Doc Martins in front of him. He noticed Reza

was a lot quieter than usual and decided to give him a little dose of light.

“Cheer up,” Kusnaidi said patting the thinker by the shoulders. “You’ve

got this.”

“I’m not sure I do, we’re still missing way too many pieces.” Reza rubbed

his chin that’s shaved clean.

“Nah, you’ve got that chin high, which means something’s coming up.”

True. Reza still had a few tricks up his sleeve, tricks that could force the

culprit to give it all up, tricks that could put all this to rest.

“You should definitely go for Ahmad.” Kusnaidi uttered, fixing his hair in

one of the mirrors.

An eyebrow was raised, but Reza remained quiet.

“There’s definitely plot holes in his statement, it’s just something about

him that oozes hypocrite.”

“Kus, he just prayed with you.”

“Or he needed to remain a good character? Arsa’s got a perfect alibi, even

if you seem to hate his guts.”

“Perfect alibi?”

“Yeah. Simply put, Arsa’s got the upper hand.” Kusnaidi walked over to

the sofa and sat back down.

The standard procedure was to gather enough evidence at the crime scene

and continue the work back at the precinct, returning later on when needed.

They’ve stayed at a place of interests with the two main suspects for hours now, a

XXIV

special case, as Reza thought of murder after a quick look at Kitana. Yet, he has a

problem delivering.

When suddenly, the light bulb that was off these past few hours just lit up

like wildfire in Reza’s head. His thinking clear as the sun that’s close to showing

his head.

Perfect alibi? Reza thought hard.

“You know what would throw us off a suspect?” Reza asked, to the old

geezer that was having a hard time lighting up his Marlboro.

“Come again?” Kusnaidi’s lips grasped the cigarette, muffling his voice.

“We’ve been duped,” Reza said as his eyes glimmer. “Big time.”

Like an eagle swooping in to a lion cub, Reza rushed into the house

towards the kitchen before stopping amidst his trucks so abruptly. “I know who

did it.”

__________________________________________________________________

__

Gotcha.

The detective snapped. He wanted to have THE moment, the feeling of

utter victory, like all of his favorite detectives from his childhood cartoons.

Like Shinichi from Detective Conan, when he solved a locked room

murder case, and smack dabbed his pointing finger like a sword towards the

suspect.

Like Jake Peralta of Brooklyn Nine Nine, when He’s had a sudden

realization of a key fact he missed and swooped into the interrogation room he

just solved everything.

The moment. He’s had quite many of them, but he needed it now more

than ever. Reza needed the moment. A catharsis of some sorts.

XXV

The kitchen was a cage for Reza to prey in.

The young detective pulled back the black stool, and rested his corduroy

covered behind on it. Grim was the room, as only two lamps right above where

they were was kept on, and the drapes by the only window in the room closed

shut.

“You see, falsifying a statement is a mistake,” Reza began, he gazed the

man in front of him head on, into the pupils. “But lying is child’s play.”

“Kowe9 done goofed, kid.” Kusnaidi said to the man sitting by the counter,

the geezer had his body leaning against fridge, in his hand the same tea he had

drink in the same room before.

“So, why did you lie yet again, Mr. Wilsa Arsa?” Reza fired his trigger

lips.

Arsa stiffened, his nose glowed from the light source above.

“Lie?!” Arsa shouted, his voice trembling. “I’ve said enough detective, I

would never lie to you!” He slammed his hands by the counter, though a slam was

an overstatement. A slight tap fit better.

“You lied the first time, chump.” Kusnaidi uttered before his sipped his

bottled tea. “Liars lie, end of story.”

“But-” Arsa struggled to shape words. “But I would never lie to you again!

Everything I said was the truth! Everything I-”

Arsa stopped, he took deep breaths, like he was suffocating, holding back

tears. “She wanted to ruin my life, why would I lie about that? Having a

girlfriend? Why would I ruin my own future by committing murder?”

“Well that’s convenient,” Kusnaidi mumbled.

“What is, officer?” Arsa asked, out of breath.

9 “You” impolitely in Javanese.

XXVI

“We never said anything about girlfriends and you lying about having

them.” Kusnaidi walked closer, resting the bottle above the wooden counter.

“What else would I lie about?” Arsa flustered.

“That’s a good question,” Reza chimed in. “Are you willing to answer

that?”

The brash young adult froze, his lips curled and locked.

Reza sighed, and threw the white tiny flash drive he’s been palming for a

while now by the counter, it tip toed towards Arsa like a child mocking an adult

for looking dumb.

“Give it up, Arsa.” Reza exhaled, nailing the coffin.

There was nothing but silence for a while, only the slight creaking of

wood and the whistling of wind passing through the tiny gaps of void could be

heard. For a moment, their heartbeats drummed loud, louder than their breathings

could ever produce. One of them was out of sync, rapid and uncontrolled. Like a

horse’s footsteps running away from gunshots and cowboys, while the cowboys

caught it kicking another steed dead. The cowboys were the dynamic duo, guns

blazing chasing down the guilty horse that was Arsa.

Like a siren wailing in the distance, Arsa zoned into the realm of tears. He

sobbed, dropping his knees to the floor. His hands clenched oxygen, smashing the

marbled floors.

Where’s the moment? Why don’t I feel it?

“I’m sorry.” Arsa whispered, to whom Reza had no clue. The words

echoed, again and again, a prayer murmured.

__________________________________________________________________

__

XXVII

After a close inspection of the available footage from the nearby CCTV, it

was later discovered that Arsa left after the gunshot was heard. Although the

camera didn’t see him firing the gun, it managed to capture a muzzle flash behind

the walls of the gates, and Arsa with a helmet on ran following the flash.

When questioned about the exact reason why Kitana was murdered, Arsa

couldn’t maintain a proper communication, like his mother tongue removed

herself the minute innocence was lost.

“I loved her,” the murderer’s hands cuffed, while his lips explained. “She

was hurt, I needed to save her.”

“You’re one train away from cuckoo land young man.” The old geezer

tightened the cuffs enveloping Arsa’s hands, there was a lack of resistance from

the convicted.

None of the surrounding officers had a clue what just ensued, and even if

they did, they’d rather keep it to themselves. After such a long drawn out

investigation, the dynamic duo solved it in a matter of minutes, with an evidence

sporting a crack on its concrete. There’s still no clear picture of him shooting, but

a motive and circumstantial evidence was enough to bag him.

This was the first case Reza solved without a clear catharsis, and it’s

itching an non-scratch able part of him, while giving one of the biggest sigh of

relief. The young detective took a deep breath, and let it all out with a blow.

Another one to the books. He thought to himself, he assured himself.

“How did you do it?” Kusnaidi asked. “What was it about Arsa?”

Reza had no intention of hiding his moves, he giggled at the idea but

having seen that it works like a charm, the detective was a little proud of it.

“A bluff, a big huge bluff.”

Had the smoke not been inhaled, Kusnaidi wouldn’t have been coughing

that hard, a mix of chuckles and the struggle to breathe properly was a sight for

the physically drained.

XXVIII

“You knew what was in that flash drive, Kus.”

“Might as well send them to the record labels now huh? Earn some

extras?” Kusnaidi and his old jokes never ceased to amaze Reza, who was

giggling all the way through. They both walked down the same corridors just for a

quick little glance before they go. As they got to the sofa they’ve spent an eternity

in during the case, one of the forensics came in with the autopsy results.

“Sir,” called the forensic man to the two reminiscing dynamic duos. “the

coroner came back pronto with the results. You might wanna have a look.”

On his hand a brown envelope, with a white stamp ‘Semarang Ninety-97’

propped up by the top side. Sheets of A4 stacked in unison, Reza wasn’t in the

mood for any reading, neither did the chain-smoker.

“Spill.” Reza instructed, handing back the envelope.

“Well,” the forensic gulped. “We found traces of cyanide in the deceased.”

“Cyanide?!” Kusnaidi jumped. Maintaining eye contact.

A common item found in many murder cases, cyanide was always a quick

way to end another life or kill oneself in one fell swoop. Had Reza not been as

tired he would’ve flipped a table.

“Possible cause?” Reza asked.

“Swallowed, through another liquid.” Explained the forensic officer.

Reza walked over to the sofa and sat down, his cognitive juices spiraling

for scenarios.

“The glass,” the forensic officer continued.

“What about it?”

Handing the paper out to Kusnaidi, the forensic showed them that the glass

had traces of cyanide too.

15

Reflective Paper Writing a short detective story based on deconstructionism, while having

an element of dangdut in the mix, was never going to be an easy task. I’ve learned

that the hard way, jumping in head first. Having watched countless movies and

TV Shows to prep for my own short, it is abundantly clear that police work and

solving a murder case goes both ways; utter dismissal of deconstructionism and

the idea that every murder has purpose, while also putting deconstructionism on a

high pedestal and utilizing its ideologies. I hope in writing a detective short story

that has consists of dangdut elements that is based in deconstruction will help me

gain insight on how the real police work benefits from the theory.

Trials and Tribulations During the process of writing “Kitana”, there were quite a few hiccups that

caused some minor blocks in my creative juices. These challenges didn’t stop me

from writing, but they were obstacles nonetheless.

1. Shaping the Star One of the things that took time out of my writing process was learning

the current trend in the element of ‘dangdut’ itself. Being a part of the crowd that

enjoys dangdut as ambient noise, I find it difficult to differentiate the styles of

said genre.

YouTube played a huge part in easing my research, with the collection of

all that is dangdut available. I gravitate towards the singers that had the most

views, and the one that caught my attention was Java’s very own Via Vallen. Her

collaboration with Asian Games on the song “Reach the Stars” garnered close to

150 million viewers, while Via’s latest cover of the song “Selow” by a local artist

named Wahyu has over 60 million people watching it. With her as a basis for

16

Kitana, I decided to use her likeness and song structure, infusing Kitana with

Via’s perks in the short story.

The song I wrote and put as Kitana’s debut single is inspired from Via’s

many hit singles. Her music is simple, upbeat and bright in tone with a dark and

sad undertone in some of them, perfect for the tragic end to Kitana’s life.

2. Becoming the Law To write a convincing crime-scene investigation, I needed to shape an

environment that’s reminiscent of the ones seen in both fiction and real-life,

which was why movies and video games were my two primary source of research,

with a glossary list I discovered on the world wide web as a reference point. It

wasn’t easy, getting the tone and the mannerism of the ‘Dynamic Duo’ to fit the

world while still engaging the readers took a longer than expected.

3. Writing the BANG! A good story is one that makes you feel things. Scare to death, happy as

can be, curious like the neighborhood cat is when it sees you carrying a pack of

Whiskas, these emotions are what authors mix inside their melting pot and serve

to engaged readers. I am an individual that is insecure about how I am represented

to the world, so when I write that anxiety follows through. In the beginning stages

of my writing, I found it challenging to pace my story in a way that’s not only fun

to read, but suspenseful at the same time. Suspense is such an easy concept to

think about, but writing in down onto a blank sheet is such a taxing process.

4. Implementing the Theory There’s always an overarching ideology behind every piece of fiction.

Like how Marxism is clearly the basis for George Orwell’s ‘1984’, I wanted to

explore deconstructionism within my story without blatantly mentioning it by

name. A hard task, it was hard trying to hint at the idea of police officers, with

their brains, destroying meaning as an action in a subtle fashion.

17

My plan, during the proposal stage, was to gain deeper insight into the

theory of ‘deconstructionism’ via a one-on-one talk session with one of the

Faculty of Language and Arts’ lecturer, Mr. Wahyu Seno Aji. Unfortunate events

regarding my health had prevented me from doing so, and I had to improvise. I

researched my way through countless detective movies and television series in

order to prepare myself.

5. New Ideas, Old Structure The proposal for my thesis was finished two semesters before the writing

of my short story, and with time comes new ideas, with new ideas comes regret,

with regret comes difficulty in finding inspiration. Progressing through the

storyboard back when I wanted to start converting it into the final product, there

were ideas that just didn’t sit well with me and I felt the urge to change things up,

which was forbidden. Consulting with my thesis supervisor, she gave me

permission to add new ideas without changing the structure and plot lines, giving

me the opportunity to explore wider.

Fun and Games, Mostly Fun

1. Detective Reza and Inspirations In Brooklyn Nine Nine, a series on the online movie platform called

Netflix, a plethora of the episodes dealing with murder cases always seems to put

the detectives at work to connect the dots. One of the detectives in the show, Jake

Peralta (Andy Samberg), is an example of how deconstructionism could be

beneficial when investigating a crime. He is the character I based “Reza” on,

giving the intuition and sharpness while taking the goofier side, making the young

detective a more serious but still often sarcastic individual.

One of the episodes from Brooklyn Nine Nine titled “The Box” had Jake

Peralta pitted against a dentist that was convicted of manslaughter, but since the

man was meticulous and planned well, Jake had a hard time cracking the case.

18

Turns out, all Jake had to do was improvise. He deconstructed the

convicted, and found out that the murderer was a show off. So Jake made him

look like a fool, and he confessed on his own. That is deconstructionism at work.

And that quality is what I want Reza to have, while at the same time being a trait

that’s not beneficial for him.

2. The Dynamic Duo

Kusnaidi was an element I didn’t write in my storyboard or my proposal,

an accidental character that when I first started writing the short I wrote as “the

old officer”. Somehow down the road, he became a more prominent role after I

saw potential in his back and forth banter with Reza. Since this was set in

Semarang, I decided to write the character in as a local older cop.

Conclusion By writing a short story exploring the mind of a detective solving the

murder of a dangdut singer, utilizing deconstructionism as a basis, could prove to

me and others that Derrida’s theory is beneficial for investigation in real police

work. Throwing meaning out the window and analyzing facts not by the input of

any prior knowledge of connection could steer an investigation to effectiveness.

19

Acknowledgments

Nothing is ever possible when done alone, alas I was never alone, and with

the finished product that is my final thesis project, it is with great honor that I

express my many thanks and gratitude to all those who have been one call away.

First and foremost, I would like to start by thanking God Almighty, Allah

SWT, for His countless blessings and guidance throughout the process of creating

my final project, through thick and thin He made it all feel like a walk in the park.

Secondly, I would like to express my gratitude towards my supervisor Ms. Suzana

Maria L.A.F, M.Hum. Without her trust and the many guidance, she’s led me to, I

may not have had the courage to tackle a theory rarely used by the creative

writing major. Shout outs to Mr. Erio FanggidaE, M. Hum as my wali studi for

having my back these past four years, stay awesome! And also to Ms. Ervin

Suryaningsih, M.Hum, thank you for being critical of my work while

simultaneously wanting to see me at my best, I needed an extra push to write

better and you did.

To my parents, mom and dad, Erna Riyana Dewi and Reza Pahlevi, my

many thanks go to their prayers for me, all the midnight calls from the land of

Zimbabwe just to know my progress. To my fellow Sastra Menulis, I can’t

thank you guys enough, you guys made my time here filled with utter joy and

happiness, and craziness! God bless you all. Huge shoes outs to my co-workers at

Endarfootwear, thank you for making my work life such an entertainment,

giving me inspiration to use in my final project.

Last, but certainly not least, to my support system Rizky “Uli” Aulia. The

woman that was always there, by my side, during the last years of my college life,

bringing out the best in me, no words could explain the immense gratitude I have

towards you. In all my ups and downs, you were always the one to get me back in

shape. Literally too, since your cooking is way beyond umami! Thank you, love.

20

Logbook

Date Activities Progress Problems Advisor’s Suggestions Advisor’s Signature

Student’s Signature

19th February 2019

Revising the opening act

Making the opening act more concise

Explains too much in the opening act.

• Show more, don’t just tell

• Play more with metaphors

28th February 2019

Reviewing the storyboards and characters

Improving the character motivations

Technical errors in writing the dialog.

• Clear explanations of the characters

• Understand how dialogs are written

7th March 2019

Revising the story

Improving the pacing

Some parts were too long and drawn out.

• Condense the story

• Make it flow better by moving to other scenes.

21st March 2019

Revising the Story

Revising the technical aspects of the short story.

Technical errors in the dialogs.

• Look through novels and see how dialogs are formatted and try to implement them

11th April 2019

Revising the story.

A few changes in terminologies used.

I tend to under illustrate how characters express their emotions when talking.

• No problems in language

14th April 2019

Revising the story.

Minor edits Technical errors

• No problems in language

21

References “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” IMDb, IMDb.com, 17 Sept. 2013,

www.imdb.com/title/tt2467372/?ref_=nv_sr_1?ref_.

“Crime Scene Investigation.” Crime Scene Investigation: Common Terms,

www.forensicsciencesimplified.org/csi/glossary.html.

ascadamusik. “Via Vallen - Selow (Official Music Video).” YouTube, YouTube, 4

Dec. 2018, www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYxXaKpOp7Y.

Greene, Steve, and Steve Greene. “'Brooklyn Nine-Nine': Sterling K. Brown Is

Even Better as a Villain Than He Is at Being a Hero.” IndieWire, 2 Apr. 2018,

www.indiewire.com/2018/04/brooklyn-nine-nine-sterling-k-brown-villain-

spoilers-1201948243/.