Wicked Prompts

THE CONFESSION

 "We know you did those things," said Maze, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air above. He leaned in closer to his suspect, Felix Ross, an out of work auto-mechanic. Detective Lance Maze was fresh from the academy, certified on artificial intelligence collaboration, data mining, and predictive analysis. He couldn't smell out a crime scene like his predecessors, but he could sure as hell piece it together from the tidbits of data lying all over a bloodied corpse.

Felix had been sitting in that nondescript interrogation room nearly a day. They'd picked him up on his way home from the liquor market. Made him sit alone in the room without anything to eat for over five hours. He'd been shivering from the cold. He'd have asked for a blanket but no one came in the room and he was too afraid to knock on the door. All they'd told him was they needed to ask him some questions. He wasn't under arrest but they needed his help in solving a murder. When he hesitated their expressions turned angry.

"Now why wouldn't you want to help us solve a murder Mr. Ross?" Asked a pudgy patrolman with a face mangled by acne scars, toxic food, and what looked like a steel boot to the jaw.

Felix had relented and agreed to go with them to the "office." Eight hours later and this man Maze walked in. Maze was tall and slender with a buzzed haircut, a fancy gold watch, and a grey suit Felix had only seen in shopping mall windows. 

Maze looked at Felix and assessed his body language. He was slouching and having trouble holding eye contact. He held his fingers and rubbed the inside of the left palm with his right thumb as if her were trying to clean something off of it. When Maze asked him a question he felt at the scrubby untrimmed beard as if to pull it off his face and then ran his hands through his bushy grey hair over and over until he was finished answering. All telltale signs that he was just about ready.

"We have it all in the computer Mr. Ross. There's nothing you can hide from us so you might as well come out with it. It'll be easier on all of us if you do. We know from your cellphone records that you were in the vicinity of the victim around the time of death. We know you've been having financial problems for a couple of years now. Even before you lost your job a month ago. Lot of debt, bad credit, overdrawn checking account and frequent visits to the gambling halls. Victim's wallet and credit cards were stolen. Simple bop on the head and a few lunges with the knife and you've got enough cash for another weeks rent and maybe a go at the cards. 

We haven't finished running the DNA prints yet but it's likely we'll find something that links you. Could be something as simple as a hair fiber within a few feet of the victim. Anything really. But even if we don't find any DNA, I think we can assume a smart guy like you knew to cover his tracks. Records show you watch a lot of crime TV. Forensics type shows. You also did some recent internet searches about stolen credit cards. I'm thinking that was so you could use the one's you'd stolen from the dead man's wallet."

Felix had been looking at his hands the whole time. Twisting them and driving that thumb into his palm. Then he started rocking back and forth. It looked like he was nodding yes from the hips. He grabbed his beard and then brushed his hand through his hair, finally looking Maze in the eye for the first time, and tried to speak. His throat closed up on him though and all he could do was cough.

"If it wasn't you Mr. Ross, then who was it? You're the only one who fits the profile. You were arrested ten years ago for assault. Your net searches fit the profile for violent content, your phone puts you next to the victim, and you're in a period of lifestyle distress. Statistics show that 90% of first-time violent felonies are committed while the perpetrator is experiencing a traumatic life event, such as a divorce or job-loss. There's no one else."

"It wasn't me," Felix finally blurted out. It was loud and angry. It surprised even Maze who moved back in his chair suddenly, startled.

"Then who was it," Maze continued. He pulled out his phone and showed Felix the screen. "See, even media reports are saying it was you."

Felix scanned a news article with a picture of him on the cover. The title read, 'Suspect Arrested in Mugging Murder of Affluent Doctor - Police Say Evidence is Strong.'

"It must be you Felix. Make it easy on yourself. We know you've got money troubles. We know you've got violent tendencies. We know you were in the area. We also know there's no way you can afford a lawyer. At least not a good one."

"Must have been someone else," said Felix, this time in a whisper, still running his hands through his hair.

"Who else? There aren't any other suspects Mr. Ross. You already know it was you. The dots align. The data doesn't lie. The only thing we're missing is video footage of you committing the crime and DNA evidence. Both are possible. More possible than you might imagine. And if you press this we're going to stack on charges. You'll spend the rest of your life in the worst of circumstances. Make this easy on us, for the sake of the victim's family, and you could be doing two to three decades on easy-street. Someplace clean where you wouldn't have to grab your ankles."

Felix started shaking his head. His thumb was digging again. His eyes were red and watering.

"Just close your eyes for a moment Mr. Ross. Keep an open mind. That's all I'm asking. Consider the evidence against you. Consider the data. Picture the victim. Picture what you did. Try saying it. I think it'll make you feel better. That's all I'm asking you."

Felix looked at the detective's phone again. He saw the picture of the doctor lying on the pavement, bloodied and staring up at the sky, eyes wide and empty. He saw the title of the media article and the mugshot they'd pulled up, along with his crime statistic probabilities from the computer, which stated he had a seventy-five percent chance of committing a violent crime based on his historical profile, financial conditions, address, demographic and credit rating. The algorithm indicated his conviction probability was eighty-two percent.

Maze noticed a darkening shade creep down Felix's inner thigh and a familiar odor crept into his nostrils. He leaned forward to thrust his eyes like horns at the prey crouching next to him, but Felix wouldn't look back.

"Something might have happened," said Felix, now running his hands through his hair again. "The man looks familiar. My head has been a bit muddied lately. I don't remember everything."

Maze put his hand on Felix's knee, and then moved it to his shoulder and gave him a series of message-like squeezes for about ten seconds.

"That's all I'm asking Felix. That's a really great start. I think we can work with one another. It's going to be ok. I promise you. I'm going to get you a sweater. It's a little chilly in here. If you want a cigarette or something to eat, just ask me, ok."

Felix nodded his head. Maze got up and left the room.  The door shut and Felix closed his eyes. Trying to imagine how he might have swung the club. Lunged with the knife. Hidden the knife when he was finished. The tension in his stomach released some. He would be ok now. Maze had smiled at him. There wasn't anything to worry about.