Autopsy of a Mind

"Please help me help you and her family. Help me give answers to your son. I don't think you are a bad person, but something happened though… something got out of control and I need to know what. Because the longer the case grows cold—" he stopped. "We are going to find all the answers whether we do it now or in two weeks. But this is the time for you to be entirely honest with us. It will get worse as time passes and people will be harder on you."

"I left her house immediately," he stuttered this time. 

"You are a smart man. You are world-renowned. So, you have to understand how the technology works. How you think we knew where exactly you went or the searches you made on the internet?"

Only the sound of the air-conditioner could be heard. 

"How do you think I knew you didn't get out of the house within minutes? You were there for a long time… a very long time…" Pause. "We know you didn't get out of the house. You need to be honest with us. You can do that. You can do that right now."

"I—I—"

It was getting too much for him, so I had to interject. 

"I understand if you have intrusive thoughts. I understand if you were depressed. I also understand that you had a drinking and drug problem. I know that you might have had some sadistic thoughts and wanted to know what it felt like to act out on your fantasies of violence. I know that temptation is out there. But I need to find out the truth."

He looked at the desk, his eyes red now. 

"Your wife left you and filed a restraining order. She didn't allow you to see your son. She even planned on going out with someone new and vacationing with people. So, you went to meet her. She was vulnerable… so tell me the truth."

"I think I have told you—" McCain gulped. 

"Okay, did she go back into the bedroom after telling you to leave?" I asked. 

"No."

"Did you follow her in?"

"No."

"Why not?" Nash asked, sounding interested. "Was it because of the neighborhood you were in? That you would get reported if there was too much sound?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," he said gruffly. 

"Did she run away from you?" Nash asked immediately. 

"No! She just stood there as I left, looking at her phone and smiling."

I frowned.

"But didn't you say she looked distressed?" I asked innocently. McCain's eyes turned sharply towards me. 

"I left. That is what it is."

"Are you sure you left right away and not a little later? Are you sure you didn't try to talk her out of the trip or taking you back?" Nash pressed.

"I don't remember much but I wasn't there for long. I don't know crazy specifics like that… I don't know."

Nash and I exchanged a look.

"So, you're telling me that your fingerprints will not be on the murder weapon?" Nash said curiously. I bit my lip to hide my smile.

"You found it?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"Why? Will there be something on it that will reflect poorly on your?" Nash asked with a small smile. 

"Of course, not!" he said immediately, but his eyes flitted towards me, asking for my understanding. He could see that he was slowly losing Nash from his narrative, so I was his only reprieve. He licked his lips in a soothing gesture and glanced back towards Nash. 

"Will your fingerprints me on the phone or not, Mr. McCain?" Nash pressed. 

"I have no idea! I didn't even know that the murder weapon was missing," he commented swiftly. 

"Then why did you ask if we found it or not?" Nash tilted his head curiously. 

I leaned against the wall and silently watched the two converse. The intense exchange was perfect. I had no need to jump in right at that moment. If I sensed him closing up, I would help divert the topic. So far, we had already gotten a lot of information from him. Now, we needed the confession.

"I don't know the answer to your questions…"

Nash scooted back his chair, knowing he had hit a roadblock. It was time for me to jump in and make sure he kept talking.

"There are certain questions I know the answer to and there are some I don't know the answer to. The questions I am asking you, I know the answers of. Therefore, I know when you are not being truthful with me." I spoke slowly. "This is part of the reason why we keep asking you these questions. Help us solve the mystery. I appreciate you being honest about going to her house. That tells me you are telling me the truth because I know the answer to that. I want to bring peace to her family." I paused. "What happened to her in that house? I know you went in and you had an argument. Things went sideways… tell me what happened."

"That's what happened!" he exclaimed. 

Nash jumped in. "Were you angry at her at all? For betraying you? For leaving you?" The words were asked calmly. But the insinuation was evident in his voice. 

"Not really, no," he shrugged. 

I could tell he was close to being done. But we couldn't stop trying.

"Well, she was your wife and you had a child together. That tells me you loved her a lot and therefore married her. And didn't the thought cross your mind when she left you?" Nash asked. He leaned forward and stared intensely at McCain. 

"Of course, the thought crossed my mind, but I am not a monster who acts on his impulses." He gritted through his teeth. His body language told me that he didn't believe the words he was saying either. He was having to force them out of him. Or maybe I was reading him wrong. Maybe he did think he was not a monster, despite how badly he had beat up his ex-wife and child. Despite having killed her and cleared evidence of him around the perimeter to obstruct justice.

"Acting on impulses doesn't make you a monster," I interjected quickly. "You're human." And that was why humans were worse. "And I am not judging you for trying to talk through your problems with her." 

Nash nodded. "Yes, we will not judge you for wanting to talk to her and sort things out. Maybe you did talk about things and you guys wanted to have sex and went to the bedroom. Maybe something went wrong and you panicked. Is that a possibility?"

McCain shook his head. "Never."

"So, you're telling me you never went into her bedroom?" Nash confronted. 

"No."

Nash glanced at me.

"And you never tried to choke her… during a sexual act?" I prompted. McCain's eyes jerked to me.

"No…"

"You didn't touch any part of her body?" I asked.

"No."

"Are you afraid to tell me if you did?" I gave him another way out. "Because it seems like you are trying to think instead of answering my questions. You are trying to think three steps forward with our line of questioning." I smiled politely at him. 

"No."

"I think we have demonstrated enough with you that you know that I know that you didn't leave when you said you did. You know we can follow the signal to your secret phone. You know we can get your DNA from her when she touched you."

McCain's face turned into a grimace.

"Remember how I said I only ask questions I know the answer to? We already know you touched her."

And realization dawned on him. He was trapped.

Nash kicked my chair. "We want to know what happened. Tonight. So, what will you do?" Nash asked finally. 

And that did it. He was silent for a few minutes. "I want to call my lawyer," he said finally. 

I didn't show any emotions. Nash, too remained silent for a minute.

"Well, you can call your lawyer once you go out," he said finally. We got up from the chair and went out. As we went out, we saw a throng of people waiting outside. 

"If he calls Collins, he'll get McCain out in no time," Nash hissed. 

"Are you waiting for a confession? We have a lot of evidence on hand," I commented. I saw him nod and sighed. "Okay, then we can detain him by charging him for obstruction of justice and lying on testimony," I suggested. 

"We could process that," he agreed immediately. 

But it was too late. We could see Collins pushing through the crowd and coming in. The media surrounded him. His face was easily recognizable from the high-profile cases he had undertaken. We heard a flurry of questions, but thankfully Collins didn't answer anything out of spite. 

"You're holding my client?" he said, his jaw ticking. 

"No, we are not holding him. He willingly came to talk to us without a lawyer," Nash responded confidently. 

"It's past midnight. This is unlawful," Collins hissed. 

"Sorry, we followed procedure and received his consent," Nash said plainly. "We were just about to call you to get him," he said after a pause.

"Did he say something?" Collins asked immediately. 

"Please talk to your client," Nash urged. We waited outside as Collins burst through the door to inside the room. 

"Get up!" he commanded. "We'll talk about this later. We need to get you out of here immediately."