Chapter 15 The Truth of Lies

"Answer questions cautiously."

Sitting behind a desk in an office at the Los Angeles Police Department, Murphy was still thinking about the lawyer's reminder during the phone call earlier, "Be careful of the language traps set by the police."

When he left the television station, Murphy encountered the police as expected. He willingly agreed to assist them, leading him to the Los Angeles County Police Department.

The current situation was completely within Murphy's expectations. He remained calm about assisting with the investigation, as he had prepared thoroughly.

After waiting for a short while, the door was pushed open, and two detectives, a man and a woman whom Murphy recognized, entered the room. They set down folders and pens, taking their seats across the desk. Both of their expressions were grim, resembling those preparing to interrogate a suspect.

Murphy remained composed. His lawyer was on his way, and reporters from Channel 6, led by Kara, were stationed outside the police station.

After all, he was just a freelance journalist who had captured news footage, not a criminal breaking the law.

"We have already read you your rights," the male detective began, "and you came here voluntarily, right?"

"That's correct," Murphy nodded lightly. "That's right."

"You're aware that this is being recorded?" the detective continued.

Upon hearing this, Murphy glanced at the camera in the corner of the room and jokingly remarked, "Of course! I see that camera over there, and it's a wide-angle lens."

The male detective seemed slightly provoked by Murphy's comment. He stopped flipping through the files and assumed a more serious posture, saying, "Why were you at the Beverly Hills and Morse Pizza Shop tonight? And why did you call the police?"

He stared directly into Murphy's eyes, seemingly trying to see through him.

"I'm a freelance journalist, and my main work areas are Santa Monica, West Hollywood, and Beverly Hills," Murphy stated basic facts. He knew that to pass scrutiny, most of what he said had to be true. "Tonight, after leaving downtown, I went to the West Hollywood area to wait for news in a middle-class neighborhood. While waiting there, I suddenly noticed someone in a car on the side of the road staring in my direction."

Murphy recounted the events matter-of-factly. "At first, I didn't pay much attention, but after driving around the middle-class neighborhood for a while, I noticed that the car and the person suddenly started following me. Sensing that something was wrong, I shook them off."

The two detectives remained expressionless.

"As I was about to leave the neighborhood, I spotted the car from afar again," Murphy continued in the same tone. "Curious as to why they were tracking me, I decided to follow them from a distance. While I didn't get too close, I saw them pick up another person outside Beverly Hills Estate. I found them familiar but couldn't remember where I had seen them."

The female detective glanced at the male detective, sensing his skepticism mirrored in her own.

"My driving skills aren't very good, and to avoid being discovered, I kept my distance from them," Murphy explained. "When we reached Ronald Avenue, I lost them."

He coughed lightly. "Unexpectedly, as I continued straight on Ronald Avenue, I saw the car again at the intersection of Seventh Street. The two individuals happened to get out of the car and enter the pizza shop."

"Are you sure they were the criminals?" the male detective inquired.

"No, no, I just thought they resembled them," Murphy shook his head at first, then added, "But when one of them entered the restaurant, I saw a gun under his clothes. That's when I confirmed it was them!"

The female detective spoke up suddenly, "But earlier, you said you couldn't see their faces clearly."

"I indeed couldn't see their faces," Murphy spread his hands, saying, "It was too dark to see clearly. But I could remember one person's body shape, and based on that and their gait, I made a judgment. And they were carrying... guns!"

Murphy shrugged. "I believe you know that many people can judge a person based on their body shape and gait, so I immediately called the police."

The male detective's face showed a hint of mockery. "Is that your story?"

"It's the truth!" Murphy asserted without doubt. "That's why I came here voluntarily to report the situation to you!"

He added, "I suspect those two individuals might have seen the news footage I shot, tracked me down, and were planning something against me."

Murphy sat there, as calm as a newborn baby.

"Quite a thrilling story," the male detective couldn't hide the sarcasm on his face. "Do you want to know how I see this?"

"Of course," Murphy nodded, "please go ahead."

"I believe you withheld information. I believe you saw the two men committing the crime on Bill Road earlier," the male detective stood up, looking down at Murphy, "and you also saw the car, but you chose not to report it because you wanted to get the footage you wanted to shoot."

He stared at Murphy. "Is that correct?"

"It's an exciting story, but unfortunately, it's not true," Murphy met the detective's gaze unabashedly. "I am a responsible citizen of Los Angeles and would never do such a thing. It also goes against my professional ethics."

"You... are complicit in murder!" the male detective leaned in.

"I understand why you might think that, given that one of your colleagues is seriously injured, but it's not true," Murphy remained calm. "I didn't do that, and my professional ethics wouldn't allow me to commit such wrongdoing."

"Don't think you can deceive me," the male detective's emotions flared up.

"I never intended to deceive you," Murphy looked at him steadily. "You know everything I've said is true."

"I believe all your words are lies!" the male detective slammed his hands on the table, leaning in to pressure Murphy, "You're a deceitful trickster who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals!"

Murphy stared back at him, his eyes unwavering.

"You filmed these events and sold them all!" the male detective exclaimed.

"I'm just doing my job as a journalist," Murphy stated matter-of-factly. "It's my duty to report news, and my duty tells me not to ignore such news, let alone let the public miss out on it. They have the right to know."

"You..." the male detective's hand raised, "we will make you pay..."

The female detective quickly intervened, pulling him back, and the male detective instinctively glanced at the camera behind him, swallowing the unfinished part of his sentence.

Murphy remained calmly seated across from them.

The two detectives were not fools. They knew they had encountered a formidable opponent—someone with meticulous thoughts, stable emotions, and very difficult to deal with.

Most importantly, they couldn't produce any evidence to prove that Murphy was lying.

In Los Angeles, many main roads have surveillance cameras. The videos and images they could retrieve of the black Ford's route matched exactly what the guy across from them had said.

With no evidence, they couldn't take much action. The reporters from Channel 6 were waiting eagerly outside the police station, hoping the police would overstep their bounds.

Before long, Murphy's lawyer, Robert, arrived at the police station. With Murphy being a cooperative witness, Robert easily sorted things out with the police. By the time it was fully daylight, Murphy and his lawyer had walked out of the police station in broad daylight.

"Thank you, Robert."

In the parking lot in front of the police station, Murphy shook hands with Robert and bid him farewell. "This incident made me realize the importance of professionals like you. As a witness, I almost suffered unjust treatment from the police."

"I will file a protest with the police," Robert shook hands with Murphy, reminding him, "If you encounter any trouble later on, remember to call me first."

"I will," Murphy nodded.

To avoid the tragedy of his predecessor, Murphy spared no expense in hiring Robert, a somewhat renowned lawyer. There was a reason for it.

To live a relatively stable and respectable life in this country, having your own lawyer was essential.

Just as he got into his car, Murphy's cell phone rang. Without looking, he answered, "Hello, this is Murphy Stanton."

"Murphy, it's me, Karla," a slightly tired female voice came from the other end, "How did it go? Did the police give you a hard time?"

"A little bit," Murphy replied calmly, "but I managed to handle it."

Perhaps due to the increased ratings from the videos provided in the last two days, Karla, on the other end of the phone, showed rare concern. "Don't let your guard down, especially recently, don't do anything that might make the police sensitive."

Murphy nodded, "I know, right now, I'm just trying to avoid them."

With so much happening these past few days, Murphy was well aware that he had probably landed on the LAPD's blacklist. While they had no evidence for this matter, they couldn't do much to him. However, if they caught wind of his previous misdeeds, they would surely settle all scores, old and new.

After hanging up with Karla, Murphy went over the recent events, confirming there were no loopholes. Then, he started his car and left the parking lot.

To many, what he was doing was certainly not worth it, but Murphy had no regrets. The process of accumulating capital was never smooth sailing; it was always filled with hardships. As a small figure with almost no presence, obtaining a substantial amount of startup capital required resorting to some unconventional means.

Moreover, this was America, not the peaceful opposite side of the Pacific Ocean where he was born and raised.

Murphy never possessed the universal saintly sentiment.

Back at home, Murphy didn't rest but instead, enduring fatigue and drowsiness, made a trip to the bank to deposit a $30,000 check and a $100,000 check into his bank account.

With money in hand, Murphy also knew he needed to deal with the tax authorities. He had already offended the LAPD; he didn't want to provoke the even more formidable IRS.

This aspect of the matter could be handled by his lawyer, and tax season was still far away, so there was no need to worry for now.

Besides these matters, in the following days, Murphy met with his lawyer, Robert, several times to have him demand the $100,000 reward from the Los Angeles Police Department.