Dearest students, as many of you may know, the regular author of this column, Detective Cal L’Hommedieu, is currently on medical leave, so I, Cal’s twin brother Hal L’Hommedieu, have taken over his position investigating the corruption and moral decay lurking within Priory’s walls. This month’s offender is an individual who has not committed an infraction of the law, but rather a crime against fashion. I have been investigating this individual for at least a week to determine the extent of his violation, and I was shocked by what I found. The offender is none other than Scott A. Hessel, and his offense is right under his nose.

It was a beautiful November day when Mr. Hessel proudly strode into the senior lounge, sporting what can only be described as a “Mario-stache”. He then proceeded to jump on a mushroom before disappearing into the faculty lounge, leaving us students in a state of shock. Mr. Hessel’s glorious goatee, which we had all so painstakingly painted onto our faces during Spirit Week, had been murdered in cold blood, dismembered by a terrible steel blade. Would his customary “Hey guys!” ever sound the same again? Would he still remember The Four Cardinal Virtues? 

The other faculty members were also concerned. “Hessel? Yeah, he looks like a total clown,” said Mr. Bussen, “but can we talk about the real crime here? I haven’t had my coffee in days!” Mr. Nickolai’s scowl was deeper than usual as he watched students enjoying themselves out on the quad, and even the animals on campus seemed to be a little on edge.

I could clearly see that if the culprit was not found, the school would soon devolve into chaos. I began to turn the possible suspects over in my mind. Could it be a vindictive Church and the Poor student who was tired of writing reflection papers? Could it be a vengeful Mr. Orf, consumed with jealousy over Mr. Hessel’s beautiful facial hair? Could it have been the Devil himself? As I sat thinking and examining the evidence, a disturbing thought surfaced in my mind. Was it possible that Mr. Hessel had inflicted this crime upon himself? Slowly this thought marinated in my head. I pushed it down again and again, yet it persisted until it consumed every waking moment. So, I did what every responsible investigator does when searching for answers.

I broke into Mr. Hessel’s office.

I will spare you the details of how I did it, but I will spare you nothing of what I found inside. Sitting on the floor, in a pool of blood, was the severed lower half of Mr. Hessel’s goatee. I had only a moment to register what I had discovered, before I felt a thud on the back of my head. I woke up in the parking lot later that night, and I stumbled over to my car to find my tires slashed. I guess some mysteries are meant to remain unsolved. Case closed.