Mysterious

It had just happened. Jimmy was too late to see it, arriving to the town square just a moment too late (from what he could surmise). He heard the screams before he’d seen the cause of them: the body of a man in a gray suit and tie lay dead in a pool of his own blood on the concrete of the square, directly in front of the very office building that Jimmy was going to.
“There’s a word for this, you know,” a man said loudly to the crowd that had gathered around the dead man. “It’s Defenestration.”
“No, it's Tragedy,” a very fat woman retorted, her hands on her large hips and her face screwed up into a grimace. “This kind of accident doesn’t need a fancy word to explain itself.”
“An accident?” the man gave a short laugh. “This man was defenestrated. Which means that somebody pushed him out of that open window on the twelfth floor. This was not an accident.”
The woman, wide eyed, looked up at the window and back at the man. “How do you know he didn’t jump, or fall out accidentally?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The man asked impatiently.