Autopsy of a Mind

Chapter 92: Manipulative Scum

"Sure, that sounds like a plan," I said. "But Dean, you need to answer our questions honestly before you leave." Now, I had a role to play. Detective Nash had scratched his nose, so I knew it was time to increase the pressure.

"I have been honest with you the whole time," he defended, his voice low and confused. 

"No, you haven't. But you need to start now," Detective Nash demanded. He placed the file on the desk and flipped it open. "You lied to us about passing the victim. No... we'll call him Earle. We found the encounter you spoke of. And we followed the footage. You are in every frame, following Earle." 

Dean's eyes dimmed. "It... it was not me." He turned to me to plead. 

"Then, where were you these past two weeks?" Nash asked, his voice no longer friendly. "I trusted you. Detective Lewis trusted you and we find this footage... you need to tell us where you were. We are trying to help you out in this situation but you keep lying to us."

"I... I was at the hotel," he stuttered. His eyes glanced at me. I knew that he was trying to impress me and seeing if I thought less of him. I put on an expression of disappointment.

"But you weren't. We found everything. Was it you? Did you do that to him?" Nash asked. 

"Just tell us. If you lie, it makes you seem worse," I sighed. I pled with him. 

"I didn't do it," he hissed. 

"Well, your criminal record doesn't say the same!" Nash responded firmly. He pulled out photographs after photographs of battered men. "You were charged with battery and excessive force."

I leaned in and took a picture to take a look at it. My eyes flashed towards Dean and then back at the photo in my hand. He really did have bursts of anger. This was done under blinding rage.

"That doesn't mean I did anything to Earle!" he shouted. 

"We are not saying you murdered him. We don't know what happened. We have footage of you getting into the same car as him and that was the last time we saw him on the footage. Something happened to Earle after that. Maybe it was something else, but you know... you know something that you are not telling us."

"I told you when I last saw him," he pressed. 

"But that's not true. We have proof," I interjected quickly. "That is why we are sitting here, Dean. We need this. "

"Maybe something transpired in the car..." Nash said in a lower voice. 

"No..."

"Something must have happened because he never got out of the car, Dean. I am tired and I want to know what happened. I want to go home. I want to rest and you are not helping me."

"I was not there in the car. I don't know what happened, Dean. But video cameras do not lie. Did Earle do something? He's a manipulative scumbag, maybe he did something..." This was alternative questioning. I was giving him alternate solutions and blaming the victim so that he could answer. It would lead to a confession at the least. 

I was giving him a far more morally acceptable choice for him to agree to. 

It didn't work. Nash kicked my chair and I shut up immediately. The silence was filled with Nash taking over the question. 

"Okay, take me through this. He got into the car with you... Where did you go with him?"

"I didn't go anywhere..."

"You did," Nash interjected. "You did. So, is the video camera lying? I have footage to prove otherwise." 

The CCTV footage could be quite damning but it wouldn't have a big impact in court. It was still inconclusive evidence. We needed a confession and continue to apply pressure relentlessly.

"We're not biased against you. We're just doing our job. Help me," I begged.

Dean picked up a bottle of water and shook his head. 

"No. No... no... Where did you go with him?" Nash asked. 

"Dean, where did you go with him? I know you're not a bad person. Please tell us..." I paused. "I know you are not evil. You are dolling out justice. Just... please tell us."

He whispered that he didn't know anything. 

Nash started to tell him exactly the route he took and Dean watched. He was slowly resigning to his fate. Fifteen minutes more and he was still denying it, his voice growing dimmer. 

"Where did you drop him off?" I asked. 

"I didn't drop him off," he admitted. This was a breakthrough, we had once again made him adjust his story by lowering his level of admission. Now we needed to get more damning information. 

More time passed as he refused to give up more information.

"I understand. I really understand." God, I had never pleaded with anyone this much. "What you say is how people will remember you. Do not let them think of you like a twisted monster, Dean."

He became silent. After a couple of minutes, he looked up and stared right at me. 

"I want to talk to Detective Lewis alone," he demanded. 

"I--" Detective Nash stopped me from talking. 

"Okay, I'll give you two some privacy."

"Thank you," Dean said finally. As Detective Nash closed the door behind him, Dean slumped in exhaustion. 

"What do you want to talk to me about?" I asked. 

"You... you are the only one who will understand. You remember what they did to you... you will understand." He began feverishly. He admitted to asphyxiating Earle to the point he fainted and then traveled with him until the show. He admitted to transporting the bull backstage himself and going up. Everything. "I want to finish them all up. I felt good about it."

"Is there anyone else?" I asked, my voice neutral. 

He nodded. "I killed two more. They were just as bad. I just... those poor girls..."

"Thank you for telling me, Dean. Thank you." I didn't comment about what a horrible person he was. I wanted to bring up the rape-murder case he was involved in but now was not the time. My phone vibrated and I looked at it. 

"Come out," it said. I pushed it into my pocket. 

"Stay here. I'll be right back," I assured him and slowly walked out of the room.

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