It was late in the evening the day after Margaret Moore’s daughter was found dead in Jared Leto’s private and personal bathroom and he was sitting in a hotel room watching a 24 hour news station on mute.
A rerun of a press conference just ended and Jared didn’t feel any better watching it the third time than he did the first two. While in front of a dais pinned with microphones bearing the logo of 20 different news outlets, Margaret Moore pleaded with the public to come forward with information. Her daughter, Camille Moore, was only seventeen years old, she’d said. A senior in high school with a very bright future. Accepted to Brown for the fall. Beloved sister, best friend and daughter. Gifted flutist. And now all that is lost, dead a week before her 18th birthday. How would they survive this? Then a plead for people to come forward with information. She looked directly in to the camera and said Somebody knows someone who saw something and thinks it isn’t that important but it is…I’m begging you to come forward…say something to someone …and then she lost it and the detective, the same one Jared was talking with the day before, stepped up to the dais and gave out a tip line number and a reassurance that they believe the death to be an isolated event and that the people of Laurel Canyon are safe.
There is no coming back from this. Although they were very careful not to blast him in the press conference, he was very much the elephant in the room. TMZ had no problem broadcasting every rumor and posting countless pictures people took from their phones that night. None of which contained Camille Moore but all of which suggested Jared’s party was a shit show.
Jared’s phone buzzed and he checked the caller id. It was a number he didn’t recognize so he let it go to voicemail just like the other 100 calls that came in today from numbers he didn’t recognize. He was surprised at first that his private line had been compromised but then he laughed at himself. That’s the least of his problems.
The detectives leaned hard on Jared last night. Interviewing him for about 4 1/2 hours but there wasn’t much meat for the detectives to bite in to within this scenario. No connection to Jared and the victim what-so-ever. No clear idea exactly how she died just the undeniable fact that she died prematurely. When it was obvious Jared had nothing more to say that would help move the investigation along, they finished up but told Jared to stay local. He left his contact information and the name of the hotel he would be staying at until they let him go back home. He hoped for good news following the autopsy. Well, better news than what they were all thinking at least. But that wasn’t to be the case, sadly.
The coroner worked all night and when Jared woke this morning, he was informed via that very press conference that’s on repeat loop, that Camille Moore’s death had been declared a homicide over night. All hope that it was just some tragic accident or natural cause evaporated. Someone had done something terrible to a young girl in his home as he slept a few doors away. It gave him chills and made him weep. It also made him question the company that he keeps.
It had been a long day but Jared’s need to fix what he could was keeping him going. He wanted to run away from it all but he knew if he had any hope of salvaging his reputation, he’d have to basically solve the fucking murder himself. And he wasn’t wasting any time writing out what he knew.
Jared pulled a yellow pad that he had been scribbling on closer to him and flipped through the list of names Greta had given him and the plus ones. Some of the names on the list were household names. Celebrities with long histories in the limelight. Others were the people behind the curtain. Normal everyday Joe’s with really cool jobs. Jared crossed off the people he could account for. The ones he was mingling with during the party, his alibis. It was an uncomfortable task that had him side eye’ing too many people.
After two hours at the list, he had narrowed it down to about 8 names. Mostly people he simply didn’t know. But one name remained that was painfully familiar. Shannon Leto. Shannon was not only on the list but Jared could find no one that would be his de facto alibi. Jared saw Shannon arrive and he guesstimated that to be around 11 o’clock but he didn’t see him again the entire night. No idea who he was hanging out with, whether he’d stayed all night or bolted shortly thereafter. Jared couldn’t account for his brother. At all.
Jared tossed the yellow note pad across the room.