Statement of Kevin Drury, Flatmate of the Deceased

Taken by DS Okonkwo, 14 March 2024, 09:15

I've shared a flat with Marcus at 27B Cavendish Road for about eighteen months. We weren't close friends originally. Found each other on SpareRoom. Got on well enough, though. Kept different hours. He worked from home most days, headphones on, hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table. I'm a sous chef at The Willow Tree on Grafton Street, so I'm usually out by half ten in the morning and back around midnight.

Monday was my day off. I was home all day, mostly watching the snooker on BBC Two. Marcus left the flat around half past two in the afternoon. He said he was going for a run around the park, same as he did most days. He was wearing his usual kit. Dark blue tracksuit bottoms, grey running top, those orange trainers he was always going on about. He had his phone in an armband holder and his earbuds in.

When he hadn't come back by seven o'clock, I started to worry. It's not like him to be gone that long without texting. I tried ringing him a few times but it went straight to voicemail. I walked over to the park myself around half past seven and had a look around, but it was getting dark and I couldn't see much. I came home, waited another hour, then rang 999 at quarter to nine.

I should say Marcus had been a bit distracted lately. Checking his phone constantly, stepping out onto the balcony for calls. I assumed it was work pressure. He'd mentioned something about a deadline with an investor. I never heard him argue with anyone or mention feeling threatened.

I didn't touch anything in his room. His laptop is still on the kitchen table where he left it.