What begins as a casual dismissal — “It’s just a list” — quickly escalates into something far more unsettling. When the team first notices Jasmine’s growing fixation, few realize they are witnessing the early stages of a psychological spiral that could either crack the case wide open… or destroy her completely.

Pinned papers, handwritten notes, color-coded strings — the so-called incident board soon dominates the room. To some, it looks obsessive. To others, unnecessary. But to Jasmine, it is the only thing keeping her grounded as the walls close in. How can she possibly walk away now, knowing the child will be back soon, knowing evidence still hasn’t been returned to the victim, knowing the real perpetrator — the “pup,” as someone bluntly calls it — is still out there?

The tension within the group is palpable. While some argue that Jasmine is merely being “Jasmine” — intense, driven, uncompromising — others are no longer convinced. This doesn’t feel like one of her usual meltdowns. This feels different. Darker. Faster. More dangerous.

And when the words “medical opinion” are thrown into the conversation, the mood shifts instantly.

Because this time, it’s not just about the investigation.

It’s about Jasmine’s mind.

As the team splinters into doubt and damage control, outside pressures begin to seep in. Sam rushes off in a cab booked by Sharon, chasing down an ex-con connection who might know where Chris is hiding. It feels like chasing shadows — a truth everyone silently acknowledges. But criminal investigations are built on shadows. On half-formed leads. On instincts that refuse to shut up.

Yet Jasmine’s instincts are becoming impossible to separate from her emotional state.

She’s already had one devastating phone call — Zoe crying down the line from a prison cell. The memory lingers like a bruise no one wants to press again. The mission is clear: crack the case, free her daughter, and find the real culprit — regardless of personal feelings, grudges, or moral judgments.

But guilt has a way of surfacing at the worst possible time.

Jasmine insists she wasn’t talking to anyone — just leaving a message. A message for Oscar. Someone she opened up to recently. Someone who has since gone silent. His absence gnaws at her, feeding the guilt she already feels for even thinking about him while Zoe remains locked up.

Is she going to be like this the whole time?

The question hangs heavy in the air.

Doubt creeps in. Do they even believe her anymore? Alfie tries to keep the peace, but patience wears thin. Someone threatens to leave. Someone else tries to smooth things over. Appointments are missed. Tempers flare. And still, the crime wall grows.

Jasmine proudly invites others to see it — convinced she’s doing better work than the police themselves. She jokes about becoming an expert adviser, about being channelled by Agatha Christie, about turning into Miss Marple 2020. But beneath the humor lies something far more alarming: her thoughts are racing, connecting dots at a speed no one else can follow.

A psychiatrist finally voices what everyone else has been tiptoeing around.

Her mood is too high.

Stability is slipping.

Medication is discussed — Clonazepam to help her sleep, to dampen the extremes, to pull her back from the edge. Jasmine agrees too easily. Almost dismissively. As if she doesn’t care what they prescribe, as long as it doesn’t slow her down.

Because she doesn’t have time.

The library is closing.

The truth is waiting.

And then comes the moment that changes everything.

In a burst of frantic clarity, Jasmine insists she finally understands. It’s all fallen into place. She claims she has direct word from the horse’s mouth. She names names. She draws lines. And she lands on one terrifying conclusion:

Jasmine is the problem.
Jasmine is the target.
Jasmine is the wicked one.

According to her theory, Jasmine has driven people away. Lined up her next move. Quietly positioned every piece for something far worse. And now, she demands intervention. Direct action. Punishment.

The room goes silent.

Enough is enough.

Someone snaps. Someone shuts her down. Someone insists she didn’t mean a word of it — desperately trying to undo the damage already done. But it’s too late. The seed of doubt has been planted, and nothing feels stable anymore.

Is Jasmine uncovering a truth no one wants to face?

Or is her fractured mental state twisting reality into something unrecognizable?

As the music swells and the screen fades, one question lingers ominously in the air:

👉 Will Jasmine save her daughter… or destroy everything in her path trying to do so?

One crime wall.
One fragile mind.
And a mystery that threatens to consume everyone involved.

Don’t blink — because this story is only just beginning. 😱🔥