Gibberish

It's easy to look at most of the pieces of rubble and see what they were supposed to be. That isn't always true, and even here it may be the case that we, as observers, are imputing functions to the poor shattered objects we see that their designers never intended. But the large cylinder is a support column, tumbled now and sheared in a bias-cut; the bent rectangles are door-panels that would fit perfectly into the entrance to the room were it not itself missing bits around its edges; even the jigsaw pieces of the collapsed ceiling fit together easily in the mind's eye.

The interesting question, forensically, is not what the broken things are, but how they came to be broken. And there's nothing unusual in that, really. A corpse isn't hard to recognize, but how it was created- ah, there's what we care about. And the cause of death here is still a mystery. The creases in the doors, the dents of a giant's fist, suggest they were blasted out of their frames in some sort of explosion, but there is no sign of that in the corridor outside. The column's cut is mirror-smooth, with no indication of what served as the blade to sever it. If someone came after the crime, why could they conceal that much of the evidence and not the rest?