After being arrested in Nashville ten days ago on suspicion of murder, then being extradited to New York to face a judge for not one, but two counts of murder, the question on everyone’s lips has been: Is America’s pop princess Harlow Hayes a killer? Looks like we have our answer. And it’s great news for all the Hazies out there…
According to Rudy Lodge, Hayes’ attorney, the prosecution failed to provide the DNA evidence that the judge requested at Hayes’ initial arraignment. Instead, lab results confirmed the samples being tested were not a match in either of the alleged murders.
“We are thrilled that the judge has decided to drop all charges against Harlow after DNA evidence proved that Ms. Hayes had no involvement in these crimes,” Lodge told reporters outside the courthouse. “DNA does not lie, and my client has staunchly denied all allegations made against her from day one. The fact she was arrested and charged for these crimes so prematurely was a true injustice, so we’re happy the City of New York has finally come to its senses.”
Hayes was suspected of being involved in the recent death of actor Colton Scott and the 2021 death of aspiring model Jade Dutton. No further details have been released about either of the alleged crimes, and authorities have declined to comment on whether they will continue to look into foul play. The “Violent Ends” singer has been on house arrest at her Manhattan residence, but is expected to be cleared of all charges. She’s rumored to have already fled the state to her beachfront property in Maine.
Harlow
Finally, I’m free. Not that my release means I’m innocent.
You’d probably argue I’m not free at all, though, never have been. That this level of fame is a prison in itself. Everyone watching my every move, wishing for my downfall. Unable to leave my glass cell without being chased down. Except instead of prison guards, it’s paparazzi with zoom lenses, reporters with too much ambition, and deranged losers with absurd vendettas.
But it’s all about perspective. And I’m grateful that I can now see that these aren’t problems. No, I’ve had those. And I’ve dealt with them. These are simply proof that the dream I’m living is real, and if “celebrity” is a punishment, I’ll take it. Live out my glamorous sentence behind gold bars and velvet curtains willingly, begging them to throw away the key.
I know better than anyone that you can’t have the good without the bad. I fought too hard, gave up too much to be ungrateful now. I remember what it was like to withstand the rejections in the beginning. To be cast aside. My arrest was just a little blip on my journey. There’s no such thing as bad press, right?
I giggle at the absurdity of it all—at everything that’s happened, what I’ve done. The delirious laughter ceases in my throat and my smug smile drops as I stare off into the distance.
“But did you do it?” I imagine you asking.
You’ll hate me when you learn the truth.
Part II
CRUEL DELIGHTS
If time healsall wounds, darling, we’re the exception.
We’ll sip bloodstainedchampagne as ourlesson.
– Harlow Hayes, from the albumApotheosis
Harlow
Six Months Before the Murder
I’d learned long ago how deceptive appearances could be. How, up close, plush velvet curtains were thin and patchy, gold trophies that gleamed from the stage were tarnished and rusted. And sometimes, the most revered idol—the smiling hero atop the highest pedestal—was actually a monster once the cameras stopped rolling.
The thought reminded me to smile, to remember where I was.Don’t let them see, I imagined my mother saying.You can be upset later, when no one is watching. So I pushed my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and tried to pretend that I was happy. But behind my closed-mouth grin, my teeth were gritted, jaw clenched tight.
I looked ahead, assessing the other stars already posing for photographers. I could tell some felt like me, by the way their smiles didn’t meet their eyes. How, in between poses, they hunched their shoulders, masks slipping as they let out shaky breaths.
I winced as my middle fingernail jabbed into my thumb’s stinging nailbed. I shook my hand out to relieve the pain and then studied the bloody cuticle I’d started picking at in the limo. A tiny pool of blood formed between my polish and skin, its bright-red hue matching the carpet beneath my feet. My first instinct was to suck it off, but my mother’s judgy voice stopped me once again.Get your filthy fingers out of your mouth, for Christ’s sake. Act like a lady.
If only she knew what I was doing last night with Colton. I faltered at the reminder, suddenly wanting to vomit.
“You okay?” my makeup artist Courtney asked, steadying me.
“Fine,” I nodded, forcing the onslaught of memories away.
Was it really over for us this time? Before anyone even knew we were back together? Was this the final, final break?
My heart ached as I realized that it had to be.
I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the present once more. I had to get through an entire red carpet and needed to get my shit together before I embarrassed myself.
Three things I can hear: An obnoxious laugh to my left. Muffled chatter to my right. Cameras clicking ahead.
