The Strange Case of the Vanishing Misha

Harry D. lays out Jean-Rugman III’s life’s work: a who dunnit of Zodiac caliber

It was a disturbingly peaceful All Hallows’ Eve, back in 1976. The fellows had finally laid down their research documents or sub-par student essays. The students had just arisen like the dead, after an intense series of dance sessions at Sunday Lolas the night before (some things never change). The staff had all taken a well-deserved break for the night, except for two porters who stoically manned the Great Gate of Trinity College.

Steve: The Porter

Alibi: ‘Well, I saw this bloke walk in. He was a short lad, I didn’t get a glimpse of his face and I honestly thought he was just handing in a lost Camcard. I went about my rounds, told some freshers to stop skinny-dipping in the fountain, broke up a social or two in the JCR and filed a report in the morning before my shift ended. To be honest mate, I was sat on that desk playing solitaire and watching cameras until the initial incident.’

At the stroke of midnight, whilst the Wiccan sipped mystical potions known as coffee to meet a deadline, a strange man approached the silent plodge. ‘Do you have a Camcard, mate?’ the porter bellowed, but to no avail as the figure slinked hurriedly towards the service desk. Much to the porter’s surprise he supplied a card that read, ‘Misha Medvedev’. Alas, before he could utter ‘cheers’ in relief, the shifty figure scurried back out the gates, as if some random on Ticketbridge was finally willing to part with their Halloween bop tickets.

The next morning, the new shift of porters investigated Misha’s room, the JCR and bar, even the FaT boathouse. He had seemingly disappeared from the recollection of many in college and more importantly, just, yaknow, actually couldn’t be found. Even to this day, rumours persist of an ethereal Misha who wanders the halls of Trinity and haunts poor Travisty writers.

The following case files are the prime suspects for Misha’s sudden disappearance, collated by the infamous detective and rugby/religious figurehead, Jean-Rugman III, alongside renowned Impressionist crime-scene-sketch-artist, Deputy Penning.

Detective’s Notes: There were no other witnesses than Steve and his partner at the arrival of the shrouded figure. I employed the questionable skills of the TCSU Computing Officer, Jakob Alwall Sr, to investigate his Spider Solitaire activity. We noticed that the times given for when he was absent from the plodge did not align with said Spider Solitaire activity, which occurred at 10pm, two whole hours before the initial incident. Even his partner was either absent or mysteriously resisted the urge to continue the said game of Spider Solitaire. Sus.

Professor Plum [No Relation]

Alibi: I honestly haven’t had the desire to see Mr Medvedev since supervising him for Maths in first year. However, this is not an indication of malice why would I wait two years to expel him from the college? I am sure he has come a long way since first year wait, what? Where was I the night he disappeared? I was at CERN that evening smashing atoms together, as Mathematicians are prone to do, of course. How did I make this interview? A plane, you churl.

Detective’s Notes: Yes, the suspect ran off when I pushed his alibi, but I’m more curious about the existence of a Maths professor who has faith in a student? I suppose there must always be an exception that proves the rule, but I still have my doubts. Moreover, after analysis of Plum’s lexicon, I have deduced there is no way a Maths Professor would think of the Middle Ages term ‘churl’ as an off-the-cuff insult.

I must inquire what a CERN is before further deliberation.