He’s the most miserable man I’ve ever known!

Yesterday when we were shooting a video for The Frankenstone’s Leave Me a Radio in Akindo broadcasting studio, a friend of mine told me a story that I will never forget. His name is Jati Pradipta, he’s only 21 and he’s extremely good looking for my taste. Moreover, he learns visual arts in Indonesian Institute of Arts. Jati works in Nichers, the clothing company which endorses our band. He was there to support us while producing the video.

During breaks, we chatted and he told me stories about her dead girlfriend which will make any girl put a pity on him.

For background, I’ll tell you a story about a dead high school girl who was murdered two years ago. Her name was Swastika and she was very pretty. I didn’t know her, but the case was big so I can tell some details. She was a popular girl in town, studied in the famous Stella Duce high school, and was enjoying her second grade in the school. She had helped some friends to write a book, and she would learn arts in the Institute of Arts when she graduates. However, she was found dead one morning in her room in her boarding house, murdered by an unknown murderer. But it was said that the killer was someone she knew well because there were no signs of forced entrance, and there were no signs that she fought her killer. However, her mates in the boarding house said that they heard her screaming once or twice, but they didn’t come because they thought she was only screamed for gecko or what. Shortly, she was found dead in the morning. Her news was everywhere; in the national TV shows, national tabloids, newspapers, and magazines. I read that her boyfriend was arrested for investigation. I didn’t wonder that someday I would friend that boyfriend and heard the story from the pitiful lover.

Jati started his story when we were eating fried chicken. He said he actually cannot eat fatted food because it will worsen his liver. He said he caught liver since his girlfriend was dead.

“I suppose you must be so depressed,” I said emphatically.

“I was,” he said. “You know, they arrested me and I still can’t forget the way the cops treat me. That’s what hurts me the most.”

He said that in the morning he didn’t know that his girl was dead. He woke up and the cops came with six big police cars. They handcuffed him and he was arrested for a day for custody. He tried to reach his friends to clarify the story that Swastika was indeed dead. But his texts was never been replied, the cops took his cell phone away and they tortured him for his confession.

“They hit me, kicked me while interrogating me.” Jati said. “I was in the jail for a day, and then they released me because they have no evidence that I was the murderer.”

Now the cop who led the team which interrogated him cruelly had been fired due to the improper procedure in handling Jati. However, Jati said that it’s better to avoid affairs with cops because Indonesian police officers are all suck.

“So how was the case? Who murdered her then?”

“Nothing is revealed,” said Jati. “The case is unclear. They say that there are suspects, a paid assassin, an unknown man, or a woman… I don’t know… they don’t work with the case anymore.”

Jati asked me how I could know about the case. I said I read the newspapers and watched TV.

“Really?” he said. And he continued. “Yes… It was when I was home from the jail, and wanted to rest, I turned the TV on and she was there on the screen. Her photograph filled the screen, as the closing to the news.” he said, looked so painful. “She was everywhere on the media. The one that hurt me so was Koran Merapi. They put the picture of the dead body, blatantly, there. It resented me. No blur, no censor for the picture.”

When he said that, I felt a little bit guilty because I like uncensored pictures. Now I know why they cover all those bloody pictures. It’s to give sympathize to the victim’s abandoned.

A famous national tabloid, Nova, which my aunt bought to read about Swastika’s news was also false. “They have the picture of me! Of me and my father!” Jati said, angrily. “But they was false. They say my name was ‘Aji’ not Jati.” he said. Media indeed made up stories sometimes. In the internet, an article said that the night watchman that found Tika was named Dasim. But other article said that Dasim was the head of the resident pillar. From that time on, I swear I will never trust media again, point-blank.

That the murderer is remain mystery, some people still think that Jati was the murderer. “Some of her friends dart when seeing me.” he said, “Some people don’t mind, but I still, you know, sad when they act differently to me. They thought I did the murder.”

“But… you didn’t, did you?”I whisper.

“No! Of course not!” he said. He also told me that afterwards he was so depressed and he caught the liver. He had to go to hospitals and he spent millions for the treatment.

But I thought, after two years, he must felt better. He doesn’t forget Tika, he doesn’t erase the memory of the bitter tragedy, but he grew stronger and tougher. When I saw him after our conversation, I cannot see him in the same way anymore. He was bitter. People who break his heart after these happenings must be very rude. He must only demand for serenity in his life… Jati was a quiet man when I first met him. But I never thought that a murdered girlfriend had ever crossed his life.

He said that Swastika was murdered at 4 June. When I read his FB profile, Jati’s birthday was 5 June. Two years a go must be the worst birthday this man ever had. I suppose, a dead girlfriend would add more years to your age than a birthday.

I don’t know Jati nor Swastika as a close friend. I haven’t friend Jati for months either. When I read his profile at FB, saw his friends, and what people say to him, I felt strange, like a stranger. I am indeed a total stranger for them. I am a person from outside their world. But their story would touch every soul who hear it, and recall the dead girl who appeared in newspapers and TV for being ruthlessly murdered.

Jati invited me, Putro, and Jeje for the tribute for Swastika at 11 June. There would be documentary video and photo streaming to remember them. There also murals on public walls on the town. (Swastika must be very popular for the Institute’s artists.) There will be also people to give speech about Swastika. “But I would say nothing. I don’t want to say a thing.” Jati said.

We would be there to support Jati. For his bitter life that we never imagine could happen, unless in newspapers. We never could imagine murder would be so close to us or to our friends. We thought murders are for news, but not for real life. I thought murder stories are for Agatha Christie, not for my friend. For murder story has crossed my friend’s life, took his loved ones, gave black spot in his history, I think he is the most miserable man I’ve ever known.