I, Witness (review)

Teenagers Boone and Robbie are dumpster diving for treasure when Robbie sees a murder take place in a nearby building. The boys beat it out of the alley like lightning, but not before the murderers catch a good look at the witness. Within days, Robbie is gunned down in a drive-by shooting; their friend Andre, in whom Robbie might have confided, is next to go—on the steps of the church at Robbie’s funeral. Boone knows he’s got to be on the hit list as well, but he’s too scared to go to the police. Instead, he starts snooping around on his own and uncovers some rotten goings-on at his own high school, involving a violent-tempered past acquaintance, a pretty girlfriend, a suspicious suicide, another murder, and a video camera wired into the girls’ locker room. Deas’ black and white illustrations, with occasional Gorey-esque crimson blood splatters, are appropriately edgy and atmospheric, and ample swaths of pitch-black negative space add to the moodiness. The mystery itself, however, is less engrossing than the neighborhood noir setting, and most of the story’s fascination will revolve around wondering just how high McClintock’s body count will go. Nonetheless, the arty creepiness of the overall look should be enough to entice bystanders to ask, “Whatcha readin’?”