A Strangling at Smith Manor
A preview of volleyball, stuck-porn and asphyxiation
Welcome to my inaugural post on Substack.
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Casen Pointe. I am a private detective who investigates murders and a handful of other more boring crimes.
I’ve been solving crimes for a good long while, but I only recently started cataloguing my cases on the internet.
You can watch me solve cases on the channels below, but be forewarned: Once you witness the raw power of my investigative methodology, you’ll never look at true crime the same way again.
This week’s case was a doozy.
The crime scene
It all started at Smith Manor, on what seemed like a normal day like any other:
A dead body was found hanging from a curtain rod with his shorts around his ankles and his uncircumcised penis exposed to the world.
Not exactly the kind of thing you expect to find on your Tuesday morning coffee run, but then again, I don’t drink coffee. I’m more of an iced matcha guy.
The body - and the penis - belonged to one Marcus Smith, who you may remember as the “Bad Boy of Beach Volleyball.” He won some gold medals apparently, but I doubt he’ll be keeping them where he’s going:
A fucking grave.
Now, I’d seen auto-erotic asphyxiation cases before – thousands of them – but the moment I showed up on the crime scene, I knew something was off. This one was too precise, too clean, except for the sticky spot on the parquet floors. The maid needed to give that spot the once over.
The whole place smelled of death and betrayal and lust. Also popcorn, but that might have just been the bag of Smartpop that tore open in my camera bag. God that stuff’s good.
Anyway, Marcus was dead, a presumed auto-erotic asphyxiation. “Open and shut,” they said. But nothing’s ever shut when I’m on the case. Except the front door. I wasn’t raised in a barn.
Everyone else was satisfied with the obvious answer. But obvious answers are for obvious detectives, and I am anything but obvious.
How my mind works
Everyone knows about Sherlock’s mind palace. Monk’s OCD. Columbo’s dementia.
I use a methodology called “Casen Time,” which is very self-explanatory, but I guess I’ll explain it for those who are new or too stupid to remember:
Once I’ve gathered a critical mass of clues, my brain explodes in a supernova of deductive reasoning and evidential analysis. A veritable fugue state of cause-and-effect linkage that inevitably leads to the Truth with a capital T.
Nothing and no one can hide from me when I am in this state, and afterwards, I usually need a shower, or at least a wet-nap.
This heightened state of awareness is how I notice what no one else does. It’s how I noticed that the porn playing on the computer was stuck porn, which, as everyone knows, involves the penetrator penetrating a penetratee from behind, whilst said penetratee is stuck in an appliance or wall joist.
This is very regular, until you realize that Marcus Smith was what some call a “claustrophobe.” This is something that Marcus’s wife Abby confirmed earlier in the case, which explains why he would tie himself up in his spacious study instead of inside a cramped, sweaty closet, like a normal person.
I quickly realized that someone with claustrophobia would never indulge in stuck porn.
It’s too triggering. Too real, no matter what the reviewers on porntaco.tv say.
The conclusion: The auto-erotic asphyxiation was staged. This had to be murder.
But by who? And why? And I guess how, but most importantly who?
The web of suspects
Arriving at a prime suspect is usually a simple process of elimination, like a deadly game of Clue but with higher stakes and better production value.
I knew the maid didn’t do it. She was well-compensated and – based on her unsettling accent – they were also taking care of her green card as well. She had nothing to gain from Marcus’s death. Plus, she seemed genuinely distraught. I’ve seen a looooot of women cry, and you can’t fake that level of foreign sobbing.
The neighbor was also squeaky clean. He had no motive, and he didn’t have the muscular physique required to overpower a two-time olympian. Also, he told me he was gay, which immediately ruled out any sexual jealousy angle. Gay men don’t kill over women. It’s like, a known fact.
That left me with two suspects: The wife (Abby) and the business partner (Charles).
The wife couldn’t have done it herself, because – barring some amphetamine-fueled chimpanzee-like rampage – she lacked the physical strength. And she smelled nothing like amphetamines. I checked. Twice.
But still – I knew she was connected. The way she looked at Charles when she thought no one was watching. The way he instinctively moved closer to her during questioning. The way they both had that guilty stench of conspiracy and overpriced cologne.
Two people. One plan. Multiple motives.
But you’re going to have to watch the full investigation unfold to see how all the pieces fit together:
Secrets in the dark
We all have secrets. Dark corners of our lives where shame and desire intersect. Most of us keep those corners locked away like sand in a safe (it’s an inside thing for people who watched the video), but some people – well – some people set that darkness loose on the world.
And when they do, I’ll be there. Waiting. Watching. But not in a creepy way. They’re the creeps. I’m totally normal.
What’s Next?
This is just the beginning of Casen Pointe’s Case Points. Every time a new case breaks, I’ll be breaking down my latest investigations, sharing behind-the-scenes insights from the world of true crime detection, and dropping nuggets of profound wisdom along the way.
There’s a lot of phonies out there. A lot of amateur armchair experts and two-bit hustlers with few scruples and less talent. The world needs people who are out there on the streets, getting their hands dirty, tasting mysterious substances to determine their makeup.
Someone who’s not afraid to ask hard questions, like “Maybe it was the wife.”
The world needs Casen Pointe. And until every single human on Earth is subscribed to this Substack, I won’t stop pursuing justice.
Until next time,
Casen Pointe
Private Detective & Content Creator
Follow the investigation below:
YouTube: @casenpointe
Instagram: @thecasenpointe
Have a case you’d like me to investigate? A mystery that’s been keeping you up at night? Drop me a line at casenpointedetective@gmail.com. Or message me below:
I can’t guarantee I’ll take your case, but I can guarantee I’ll at least smell you to determine if you’re telling the truth.
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