I Didn't Do It

I was in trouble. Again, and it wasn't my fault. This time ‘I’ killed my cat. I MEAN HOW COULD I DO THAT. Mum said I did it. Dad said I did it. Abbie, my sister said I did it. My grandfather said nothing because he's dead. But I reckon Andrew, my brother did it. He always hated that cat. Always said a dog’s the way to go. Now I just need to prove it.
Later that night I heard Andrews heavy, meaty, ‘well-built’ frame sag onto the bed nearly crushing me. I was under the bed of course. Detective Jones-Smith was on the trail. Later after watching television the suspect fell back onto his bed and started snoring. I must stay awake. I must stay awake. I must stay awaaaaaaaazzzzzz. Yes I fell asleep. Sue me. Actually please don't sue me I'm only 12.
In the morning when I woke up Andrew had already left for school. Luckily I had something special planned to stay at home and delve in deeper.
0200 hours later.
The bell finally rang for Recess. So yes I'm at school my brilliant plan had a flaw. I'm allergic to broccoli so when I mushed it up and pretend to vomit I got a rash and mum got ‘very annoyed’ and sent me to school. So a whole day of detective work is ruined. Damn you broccoli. At least I don't have to eat it. Back to the drawing board.
0400 hours later in Andrews bedroom.
The cat is onto the mouse. Even if it's dead. I'm snooping around Andy’s room. It’s as dangerous as a death adder. Nothing, his phone nothing his computer. An encrypted password. Dammit. Then I found a veeeeery interesting file on his phone.
Texts to an unknown number regarding dog pictures and ‘I hate my cat. I just want to kill it. I take this to my mum and dad as proof I didn't ‘take out the cat’. Dad and mum didn't believe me. Grandpa was quiet because you can't talk when you're dead.
0630 hours
I believe my parents have been brainwashed because how else would they not believe my evidence.
0200 hours later
They aren't brainwashed. What happened? Let's just say I won't sit down for a very long time.
2400 hours later
I was just going to accept the fact that everybody thinks I killed poor Timmy (the cat) until I discovered something more sinister than just one cat...