21 #BryceSuspects

Before the FBI had released pictures of ‘people of interest’ for the Boston marathon bombing, the Internet sleuths had already swung into top gear. Less than twenty-four hours after the attack that killed three spectators at the finishing line and left 280 people injured, the faces of two suspects, carrying heavy objects in their backpacks, had been posted online. They turned out to be genuine ‘people of interest’ to the authorities.

The same was happening with Bryce Horrigan’s homicide. Not out of any great love for the presenter – quite the opposite – but as a way of proving the Twittersphere could police itself. The hashtag #BryceSuspects was set up with the purpose of identifying all the people who had posted death threats to Horrigan.

Twitter users went into overdrive. They tracked down personal information about the abusive users, including their real names and where they lived and worked. Each new bit of information was tweeted with the same hashtag so it could all be shared. The ‘targets’ were hit with a barrage of personal details about themselves and threats to reveal them as Bryce Horrigan homicide suspects to their bosses, families and friends. Most of them relented straight away, apologised profusely for their offensive tweets, claiming they were drunk. Others immediately deleted their accounts and went into hiding, but would still later receive letters from across the States from the self-appointed Twitter guardians, proving there was no hiding place. Some were just insane, getting into incredibly heated and abusive slanging matches with their accusers.

But Geoffrey Schroeder had gone unnoticed by the Internet sleuths, having never once sent a death threat to Bryce Horrigan. Why on earth would he want to alert someone he was going to kill?

***

‘Haye, look at this. There’s a “Top 10 Bryce Suspects” trending,’ Sorrell said, much to the surprise of his detective team, who greeted his announcement with mock cheers and tongue-in-cheek congratulations.

‘Welcome to the twenty-first century, cap’n,’ one wag shouted. ‘You related to Bill Gates, boss?’ said another.

‘Yeah, yeah, very funny. Don’t you all have work to do?’ Sorrell replied, his deep dark cheeks slightly more flushed than usual.

Haye peered over at his boss’s screen and let out a low whistle. ‘Jeez, is nothing sacred?’ Sorrell clicked on the trend. Sure enough, people had been contributing their suspect suggestions – from the humorous to the ludicrous to the downright libellous.

‘I used to think the press were out of order,’ Sorrell said, ‘but even they wouldn’t try a stunt like this. Printing suspects’ names – even as a joke – is unheard of.’

‘That’s the information super highway, boss. Wanna make a bomb to blow up the Boston marathon? It’s just a few clicks away. Child porn? Fundamentalism? Hell, I even came across a how-to-kill-a-cop guide. It’s all there,’ Haye said with a shrug.

‘Well, if this is the future, I don’t care much for it. I mean what’s with these trolls in the first place? Grown men abusing folks. I just don’t get it,’ Sorrell replied.

‘Not just adults, cap’n. It’s the kids, too. Have you heard of One Direction?’

‘Who, or what, are One Direction?’ Sorrell asked.

‘Come on, cap’n. One Direction. 1D. Harry Styles. They’re the latest boyband. Your daughters will know them.’

Sorrell stared at Haye with unblinking eyes. He was probably right, his daughters kept up to date with all the latest music trends. ‘So what?’ he shrugged.

‘Well, whoever the band members start dating get the most vile abuse and death threat tweets from their fans. They have more than twenty million Twitter followers. At least double that of Horrigan.’

‘I am more than capable of doing the math,’ Sorrell drawled.

‘The point is, these are just kids, cap’n,’ Haye said, while tapping at his keyboard. ‘But listen to this: “Harry is too good for a slut like you. If you don’t leave him alone I am going to stab your slut pussy then my brother will rape you.” Here’s another: “Get your ugly, filthy, whore hands off Niall or you will die. I’m gonna shoot you in the pussy.” That one included the address of the bastard’s poor girlfriend. And that’s just some of over 300,000 threatening tweets. And these were the ones serious enough to be investigated. The first girl was thirteen years old. The other, fourteen. Good families. Good schools.’

Sorrell sat in stunned silence before he offered, ‘Teenage hormones?’

‘More than that, cap’n. I’m sure your daughters had a crush on someone at that age…’

Haye was cut off with a warning look from his boss. ‘Careful where you’re going with this, Haye.’

‘Sorry, cap’n. What I mean is, teenage girls may have confused thoughts at that age, but instead of sharing it with their diary they now share it on Twitter. It’s given them a voice. And direct access to the stars.’

‘But this is more than just trash talk, Haye. That girl actively went out to obtain an address. That’s a serious threat. Real cause and motive. They have mental health issues,’ Sorrell reckoned.

‘I don’t know, cap’n. I think people can adopt different personas online. An alter ego. That’s why many hide behind avatars. They can be someone else online. Live out their fantasies, however warped.’

‘Talking of which, what do you make of this?’ Sorrell said in hushed tones as he clicked on the direct message from Baby Angel asking if he’d like to know who murdered Bryce Horrigan.

‘Could be a time-waster, boss?’ Haye reasoned.

‘I don’t think so. I got this about ten minutes after I set up my account,’ Sorrell replied.

‘Ten minutes? Someone either knew you were going to open a Twitter account or was waiting for you to do it, cap’n,’ Haye figured.

‘Waiting? How?’ Sorrell wanted to know more.

‘Well, anyone with Google could find out with one search you were heading up the case. So they check Twitter for someone matching your profile and find nothing, right? But this is a Twitter killer – the whole case is being built round that. They just know you have gotta go online at some point. So they keep searching and searching until, hey bingo, Sorrell pops up. Resident of Maryland. Now even if you’re not the Captain Sorrell they’re looking for, and they tweet the wrong person, what does it matter? They know they’re safe. They’re hidden where we can’t find them. It’s a fishing exercise, then they reel you in.’

Sorrell appreciated Haye’s layman terms explanation – it made it perfectly clear to him that, for Baby Angel, this was all just a game. He decided to play along… for now. He sent a direct message reply in his typically forthright manner:

Who are you?