Drama. I hate it. I didn't assume there would be drama in a forensics club, and it seemed like a fun extra-curricular. I joined it. And up until I found out what was really going on in that club, I didn't regret the choice for a single minute.

Not that I was a fanatic about it. Oh sure, you saw kids running around with luminol and scotch tape to "lift fingerprints" and whatnot. I wasn't one of them. James Hamish wasn't either, thankfully.

I wasn't exactly a slack-off, however. I just happened to be fairly good at working the scenes, but wasn't a fanatic. I suppose I was a bit of a natural, yet I didn't exactly care too much for the work. I was more excited watching James tell us all what really happened after we all did the rest of the work.

Speaking of James, he wasn't exactly a hard worker when it came to working the cases. In fact, I have no idea why he joined at all. When we were discussing basic techniques, he was hardly around, and when he was, he wasn't paying attention. He practically hated that club. But when it came to the actual cases...

But I'm getting off topic. This story isn't about me or James, it's about the rest of the CSI. In fact, it's not really about them. It's about... it's about drama. It's about how powerful drama can be. It's about how drama can drive people to do unthinkable things...

My name is Chris Perry. And this... is my account of... that night...