We Have a Suspect

Interview rooms are not comfortable places to be. They are set up to make people feel trapped and uncomfortable. The room was no bigger than 6x6 to induce claustrophobia. The walls are bare. The furniture is uncomfortable. It's a table and chairs. It's stuffy, and depending on the season, it could be too warm or cold—psychological warfare. There's one important thing to know about cops. They lie. They can fabricate information and there's no rule against it. They can be manipulative and gaslight like it's nobody's business, but it is their business. They teach classes on it at the academy. Cops go to seminars to learn the latest interrogation techniques. Never trust someone who says trust me. If you make any kind of confession, you will not be able to leave and go home. You are going to jail. Even if they tell you just to let them know what happened, this will be all over. That does not mean you go home. If you ask for a lawyer, don't say another word. Don't believe them when they say this is your last chance. After this, we can't help you. And yes, even innocent people can ask for a lawyer. Even though you may not have done anything wrong, you can answer a question that can be twisted to make it sound like you're admitting to something. Being a cop is a job, and bringing people to justice is a business.

"I don't think all 3 of us should go in at the same time. Agreed?" she said.

Bruss and Dean nodded in unison.

"Agreed," they said.

"I'll go in. You two observe," she said. "Bruss, grab me an earpiece, please."

"What's the earpiece for?" Dean asked.

Bruss came back and handed Allie the earpiece. She spoke as she struggled to get it into her ear just right.

"It's so Bruss can feed me information on the suspect's body language and speech patterns. It helps with the interrogation process," she said. "Watch and learn. Grab a pen and paper. You might want to take notes."

She headed down the hall.

"Maybe it's a good thing she wore her hair down today. The earpiece wouldn't be visible at all," Bruss said.

"I love it when she wears her hair down," Dean said.

He remembered the feeling of it brushing against his knees, tickling his face when she kissed him.

Bruss and Dean entered the observation room and stood before the two-way mirror. Bruss put in the tiny wireless earpiece.

"You can hear and speak to the person on the other end."

He pushed a button. Red and blue lights flashed on the side. It was syncing with Allie's earpiece.

Bruss turned to Dean.

"Is she still doing her best Elsa impression with you?"

"Elsa?"

"Yeah, Elsa. Let it go, let it go... You've haven't seen the Disney Movie 'Frozen'? It's a kid's movie."

"I have no reason to see a kid's movie. Did Shelly want to see it? Did you take her? Tell me, does she qualify for the twelve and under discount?" Dean asked with a smile.

"Haha, very funny. You have been hanging around Kingston too long. We better solve this case before you completely turn to the dark side."

"Okay, first, I can hear everything you're saying. Second, that was funny. I don't care who you are." Allie said with a little snicker. "And the dark side isn't bad. We have jackets and snacks."

"Oh. Well, I guess we don't have to do a sound check," Bruss conveyed to Dean.

Bruss double-tapped the earpiece to mute it so Allie couldn't hear him. He reached up and patted Dean on his shoulder.

"She's a good girl. Just be careful with her. She will never admit it, but she's a little damaged. Just tread lightly."

And carry a big stick, Dude. And I am not talking about the one you have in your pants.

"I'll just follow her lead," he said.

"No, don't do that!" Bruss exclaimed.

No! Don't do that!

Malibu yelled along with him.

The words flew out of his mouth like he was telling someone to duck.

"What? Why shouldn't I follow her lead?" he asked.

Because she might lead you right off a cliff.

"Look, man, I know you are extremely interested in her. A blind man can see that. I'm sure she can see it, too. That's why she is being---"

"Elsa?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Elsa. If you follow HER lead, it isn't going to lead anywhere, fast. She's overly cautious. As much as she loves to have control over everything, when it comes to matters of the heart, she's not as confident. There's this bar she has set, and it's high. She is hoping no one ever reaches it."

Awe, Caretaker I knew you always loved me.

"Good thing I am tall."

"I'm not joking about this. She has been hurt really badly by love. She has weathered tragedy after tragedy.

I died. I didn't do it on purpose, Detective.

"Never tell her we had this conversation. She will make my life miserable. My girlfriend already gives me all the misery I can handle," Bruss said with an exhausted tone.

Dean looked at him and raised his eyebrow.

"You may need to reevaluate your relationship with your girlfriend. I speak from experience," he said.

Dean turned his full attention back to the interview room. Allie had just entered.

"I'm Detective Kingston," she said. She put a folder on the table and sat down across from the suspect. "Before we start, did the officers read you your rights?"

"Yeah, they read them to me. They also pulled me out of my job. I want to know what this is about."

"Do you understand these rights?"

"Yeah, it's not like I have never heard them before."

He was already annoyed and angry with the situation.

"Ok. You are Chris Jackson, correct?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"You are not under arrest. We're just having a conversation. Do you understand?"

"Sure, whatever."

"I will take that as a yes," she said. "It's in your best interest to have this conversation."

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm asking the questions; you supply the answers. It will go faster that way," she said. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. Where were you last week on Friday at 9 p.m.?"

"I was home alone playing GTA."

GTA is Grand Theft Auto; it's a video game. Malibu said from the corner.

Allie shot him a look. "I know what the fuck GTA is, asshole."

"Is there ANYBODY that can anyone verify that?" Allie asked.

"If I was alone, how am I supposed to have someone verify that?"

"Ok, did anyone see you come home?" she asked. "Did you talk to anyone in the hallway?"

"I don't know, maybe my neighbor or something. She is pretty damn nosey," Jackson said, annoyed.

"So, you weren't ANYWHERE near East 9th last Friday around 9 pm?"

He leaned forward in his chair, parted his hands, and lifted them slightly off the table.

"See that?" Bruss said to Dean.

Dean leaned forward, looking closer to the window. He looked for about 10 seconds, then turned back to Bruss, who was still staring out the window.

"I see nothing," he said. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Allie, his posture changed. His leaning in and opening his palms mean he is asking for you to trust him."

"No. I told you I was home by myself," he said. "I swear, I am not fucking with you."

"Well, to answer your question, you're here because someone fitting your description was in that area where a young girl's body was dumped. She had been raped and murdered," she said.

"What? A body? A RAPE?" A MURDER!" he said. "Naw, lady, I don't have anything to do with no rape. I definitely have nothing to do with no murder. I told you I was home."

"Yes, playing GTA," she said. She spread out pictures from the crime scene. "See this car? This car right here? Now I am going to ask you again. Were you around East 9th last Friday around 9 pm? Are you in the car?"

His nostrils flared, and his chest puffed.

"Allie, he's getting angry. He knows he's cornered," Bruss told her.

"No. Look, I told you I was at home. If you are deaf and can't hear me, I can use sign language." he stuck his middle finger up at her.

"Oh Curtis, that was not a good choice," Bruss said.

Allie maintained a very calm tone. Which coming from a woman is not a good sign.

"You know, Mr. Jackson, you have your entire life to be an asshole, but I suggest you take today off. You see I don't need to be a proctologist to know that you're an asshole and if I wanted to spend my time listening to an asshole I would fart. So, a word of advice," she leaned in and gave him a cold, stern stare, "it's better to keep your mouth shut and give the impression that you're an asshole than open it and remove all doubt.

All of the blood drained from his face, and he looked like he was going to be sick. He slouched down, and his leg started to bounce.

"I think you might have scared him. He's scared of something."

"Yeah, I know that car. It belongs to a buddy of mine," he said.

"Who's driving? It sure looks a lot like you, Curtis. Can you tell me who's driving if it's not you?"

He took a look at the photos.

"No. No, I don't know who that person is," Jackson said.

He pushed the picture away. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed. He turned his body in the chair; his legs and feet were now pointing to the door.

"I saw that. He wants to run for his freedom," Dean said.

"You're learning, young padawan," Bruss said.

"Allie, he wants to run. Whoever his friend is, he's scared of him. And that he told you about him owning the car," Bruss said.

"What's the name of this Buddy?" she asked, leaning in close and invading his space.

"You know these plates on this car right here."

She pushed the picture back across the table in front of him. She pointed at the vehicle plates.

"These plates were reported stolen two weeks ago. The car is registered to a dead man," she said. "Now, let's try again. What is the name of your friend? Or is he a seventy-two-year-old dead white guy?"

"I don't know," he said.

"You don't know your friend's name or if he's an old, dead white guy? Do you know where he lives... or is buried?"

"I don't know his real name or where he stays."

"Mr. Jackson, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner you will walk out of this room and never have to see me again. Now, what name do you know?" she asked.

"I get to walk out of here?"

"Yes, you will get up, walk out of that door, and leave this room."

"He goes by the name Playa," he said.

"Playa? Are you sure that's what you're going to go with?" she asked. "His mama must have really disliked him."

"No, it's the street name he runs with."

"No shit? Really?" Allie said. She rolled her eyes. "What street does his name belong to?"

"All I know is he runs with the KTP gang."

"KTP? What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"Kill The Police. Bunch of upstanding civic-minded citizens."

"So, you don't know where he lives or what his actual name is? Curtis, I have better things to do than talk to you. I really need to change my tampon, and you are the human version of cramps."

"Holy shit, that was savage. Where is she coming up with these?" Dean asked, shocked yet entertained.

"I told you; she is fluent in smartass and sarcasm and being in the Crops. Female drill instructors are fucking brutal. She did it for two years when she re-enlisted for her second tour. It was that or a recruiter. Can you imagine her recruiting people?"

"She could scare someone into signing up. Though she can be quite charming at times."

Bruss turned and looked at him. "Charming? Maybe the black magic type of charms." Dean said.

Jackson said nothing. He just furrowed his brow and sneered at her.

"Curtis, where does he live?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. I can tell he knows where you live, or you wouldn't be scared shitless. Where does he live?" she asked.

Jackson was getting loud, agitated, and hostile. "YOU ARE THE DUMBEST BITCH ON THE PLANET! I DON'T KNOW WHERE PLAYA STAYS, I DON'T KNOW WHO'S DRIVING THAT CAR, AND I REALLY DON'T WANT TO CONTINUE THIS CONVERSATION YOU BITCH ASS HO!"

"I have been called worse by better. You know where he stays because you know where KTP stays. So where is KTP's home base?" she asked.

"I DON'T KNOW! YOU'RE THE DETECTIVE YOU FUCKING FIND THEM!"

She still remained calm. "Where does he live?"

"Fuck you."

"Where does he live?"

"Fuck you."

"I bet your birth certificate is a letter of apology from the condom company," she said.

DAMN! You are the master. I bow to you.

He stood up aggressively, and the chair fell over behind him. He slammed his palms against the desk and was now nose-to-nose with her.

"Are… you… deaf?" he asked. "You keep asking me the same damn questions. I already told you… I WAS HOME YOU COCK SUCKIG BITCH! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ME!"

"Oh, the fuck he didn't!" exclaimed Dean.

He stormed out of the room.

Bruss called after him. "Dean, there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity,"

Dean kept on going. The door to the interview view room flew open. Dean was standing in the doorway. The entire doorway.

"HOLY SHIT. WHAT IS THAT?" Jackson yelled in terror.

He looked like he was about to piss himself.

"That is my overzealous counterpart. He could easily kill you with a box of cereal, AND he is not supposed to be in here, so you did something to piss him off. Hope you got your will filled out correctly, she said.

She squinted her eyes and gave Dean a look of displeasure mixed with contempt.

Dean threw down a pad of paper and a pen. The pad slid across the table, and the pen came to a short stop on the edge.

"Your nosey neighbor, write down the name and number," he said. "And I suggest you also write down where Playa lives. Or I will find him and tell him you told me and you gave him up the first time I asked."

His hand shook violently. After he had written the information, Dean picked up the pad and started to walk out the door. He stopped and turned back around. He pointed at him using the notepad.

"By the way, the only cock sucking bitch in this room motherfucker is you," he said. "I'll be back in after we get a hold of your neighbor."

"Till then, sit there and pray that your neighbor is as nosey as you think she is. Do not move," she said. "DO. NOT. MOVE," she commanded.

Allie slammed the door shut behind her. She was hot on Dean's heels.

"What the hell was that Dean? Don't you even bust into one of my interrogations again, ever! I don't need rescuing, and being called cock sucking bitch is one of the nicer names I have been called during my career." Allie said with wrath. "Talk about stupidity. Your lucky intelligence isn't measured in negative numbers."

She stormed down the hallway, leaving him slack-jawed and dumbfounded.

Bruss joined him in the hallway. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Well, big man, you just royally screwed the pooch. She's not a damsel in distress. She doesn't need rescuing. She has been through and done more shit than you and I combined. A word of advice: stay out of her way for a while; like I tried to tell you, there is a thin line between bravery and stupidity. You crossed that line like an Olympic runner," he said.

He took the notepad out of Dean's hand. "I'm going to call the neighbor and see if she can alibi this guy out," Bruss said.

Bruss left the hallway, leaving Dean alone. The gravity of the situation sank in. Bruss was more than right. She doesn't need saving, and he did screw the proverbial pooch.

Bruss was on the phone when Kingston came back to their desk. He was on hold listening to the most dreadful hold music. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

"You know damn well he didn't do it because he thought you needed rescuing Allie. You know that, don't you; he knows little to nothing about you. Most men don't brush it off well when a woman they respect gets called a cock sucking bitch. You do need to admit it, though, it was funny when he came in, and the kid almost pissed himself," he said with a laugh. "He is not used to how we do things. He was acting on some kind of chivalry impulse. Considering the accent, he's from the south, where chivalry is not dead. And when exactly did you go fishing? I knew there had to be something going on."

"Nothing is going on. Nor will it ever. Maybe the thought briefly crossed my mind, and I don't need someone to ride in on a white horse, or any color horse, or the one they have outside of the grocery store"

"I know. Trust me, I know," he said.

The hold music finally stopped. He went back to his phone conversation.

"Yes. Can I help you?" the voice on the other end answered.

"Yes, is Ms. Molly Jenson?"

"Did you ask for Molly Jenson?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"Then I am Molly Jenson, and you are?" she asked.

"I'm Detective Patrick Bruss. I am calling from the Cleveland 6th district."

"What did that little shithead neighbor do now?" she asked.

"I am calling about Jackson. Has he been in trouble before?"

"Mr. Bruss, the world would be a better place if his daddy had worn a condom."

Bruss covered the mouthpiece. "This woman is savage. You two would get along," Bruss whispered.

"Ms. Jenson, I just need to know if he was home last Friday."

"Let me guess, he's needing me to be his alibi again. If stupidity was a felony, that down would be on death row," she said. "Yeah, he was home, playing that stupid video game. He gets loud when he plays. I first heard him around 8:30. I was watching The Neighborhood. Have you ever seen that? Cedric is so funny and fine."

"I can't say I have," he said.

"That troublemaker comes home every Friday at 8:30 to play that stupid loud game over the internet with other troublemakers! He's so loud I can barely hear my Cedric," Miss Jenson said, annoyed.

"Thank you for your time. That is all I need to know. I appreciate it."

"Detective, do me a favor and tell him to stop having the police call me for an alibi, or I will give his cell number to every child I see and tell them it's Santa's. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes. I would be more than happy to Miss Jenson."

He hung up the phone. "His neighbor, Ms. Molly Jenson, is a pistol, like a subsonic 9mm WITHOUT a suppressor," he said. "She verified that he was home that night. He came home around 8:30. Cedric was on. I don't think he's our guy for the murder, just a pain in the ass. I called down to the gang unit and they are looking into Playa. Jackson might be an idiot, but he's not our idiot."

"Damn. Well, nothing comes easy. I'll go let him out of the room," she said.

"You know, Allie, I don't think there are many white horses that he could fit on. But if he finds one, give him a do-over... and if he ever rides that grocery store horse, dear God, call me. I would pay good money to see that."

She walked down the hallway towards the interrogation room to let him know his alibi had been checked out and the message from Ms. Jenson.

"Allie." Dean came out of the observation room. "Look, I--"

She held up her hand and stopped him mid-sentence. "Don't. Just don't. This is neither the time nor the place," she told him. "His neighbor confirmed his story. He was home at 2100. 2030, actually. He's not the guy. I'm going to give him the good news and the bad news." She started back towards the door to the interrogation room.

She stopped and sighed. "Well, are you coming or not?" her voice filled with annoyance.

"Yeah. Yes."

He followed her into the interrogation room.

"Mr. Jackson, you're lucky you have nosey neighbors. Your alibi has been corroborated. She also sent a message, and I quote, tell him to stop having the police call me for an alibi or I will give his number to every child I see and tell them it's Santa's.

Dean stood behind her with his arms crossed, staring at Jackson. It was a hard, intimidating stare, but he totally broke character and let out a snort.

"I'll walk you out," he said.

Jackson stood up.

Allie looked at him. "Oh, Mr. Jackson, you're not the first person to call me a cock sucking bitch, and you won't be the last. That doesn't excuse what you said. Next time you feel the urge to call a woman a cock sucking bitch or any derogatory name for that matter think twice, you never know who you're talking to or what might come busting into the room; possibly holding a cereal box."

She hitched her thumb in Dean's direction to let him know it was time to remove him from the room.

"Get him out of my interrogation room."

After he walked out of the room, she told him to stop. She came up behind him and cuffed him.

"What the hell?" he said, shocked.

"Mr. Jackson, you are being detained on a bench warrant for failure to pay child support. You were advised of your Miranda rights before the interview began. You will be held until your bond hearing can be set.

"You lied. You said I could leave if I told you what I knew," he whined.

"No. I told you that you can walk out of this room. Which you did."

"Damn, that's some shady shit lady," he said.

"DTA, Mr. Jackson. D.T.A," Dean said.

He looked up at Dean. "What the fuck does mean?"

"Don't Trust Anyone. See, we have special letters, too," he said with a smile.

He handed Jackson off to McCoy to take him down to intake.

"Allie, please let me—"

She cut him off. "Remember when I said unfortunately before? Just so you know, I now mean it in every sense of the word. You are a visitor in MY house. Do you understand? You might have the shinier badge, but I have the bigger gun.," she said through gritted teeth.

She left Dean standing in the hallway and went back to her desk.

She sat down in a huff. "Back to square one."

"You really verbally beat him down in there, eviscerated him," he said. "Now, you want to finish our conversation about Carron?"

"No, Patrick, I don't. As far as I'm concerned, we did."

"Just don't throw the baby out with the bath water. That's all I'm saying."

"My gut tells me this Playa has nothing to do with all this; we're dealing with a calculated killer, someone who wants to inflict pain and fear, and not just some KTP banger. They don't rape and murder; they steal, cause mayhem, and do everything they can to fuck with the police," Allie said. "We need to ID the victim Euclid found. I'm going down to talk to Makayla and see if she has anything we can go on. You stay behind and entertain Carron. I need a break."

OOO... are we going to get a Kit Kat bar?

"I love how you think you are funny, Malibu."

How about you tell me about this high bar you have set for your dating choices?

"I would rather get a Kit Kat bar."