Miscarriage of Justice

Returning late from a jazz gig in Manchester. It was after midnight when I exited the motorway on to the moorland road, the way to my home. I saw a van parked hard against a embankment, not usual on what was a somewhat lonely road, particularly after midnight. Reading the newspaper the three days later I realized I had been driving through a crime scene. I telephoned the local police station. They took my telephone number. They never called back or contacted me.