Murder In the Idea Of

Spieler didn't have to wait long for the officers to bring Connelly to him. He knew it was Connelly by the jingling of his chains with every heavy step his foot took, subtly growing louder and louder as he approached the door up to the second the doorhandle twisted and the man was compelled to his chair. 

Spieler studied the man: clean shaven face, a convict jumpsuit flowing pathetically over his chest, and his eyes...

Judgement was already pronounced, even if Connelly had not yet met with a judge. His clothes--and the overwhelming amounts of evidence stained upon them--taken from him, his possessions sent to processing, and Spieler suspected Time Penn was already making room for one more tenant. 

"It's good to see you Alex." Spieler said as Connelly crumpled into his seat. Perhaps the man didn't hear him, or perhaps response to Spieler's words would have been as disingenious as Spieler's words. 

"You need to tell me what happened. I wasn't there, but on-scene officers tell me it's like nothing they've ever seen before." 

Spieler opened the case file, the photos were in the first page. Even though he flipped to the report section his eyes couldn't help but catch the red in the photos. So much red.

"How long have you known Davide Fagin?" Spieler asked. Connelly said nothing. 

"Fagin worked nightshifts at Direct Electronics. Does that have anything to do with the murder?"

"There was so much blood.." Connelly whispered.

"Fagin issued numerous complaints that their clients' personal data could be stolen and sold online easily with a phone. You're a software engineer whose been passed over promotion twice." Spieler said.

"It felt like I wasn't there at all--.just watching myself doing it--"

"You're two weeks behind on your bills, Alex. I'm sure a man with your skills and desperate demeanor could easily find a buyer for people's data."

"No, I didn't want any money..."Connelly shook his head.

"Did Fagin catch wind of what you were planning? Is that why you killed him?" 

"Stop it." 

"Then he wanted a cut in the deal." Spieler pushed. "You couldn't split the money and you couldn't afford him spilling his guts about your plan, so you snuck into his apartment--"

"No!"

"And you stabbed him in the chest twice. Then you stabbed him another twelve times to make sure he stayed dead. Tell me that's what happened, and nothing more. It was you and him alone; nobody else."

"No no no no..." The chair squeaked as Connelly rocked himself back and forth within it, his head teetering as if it was going to pop off at any second. "Why are doing this?"

"You turned yourself in and you asked for me." Spieler said. 

"I thought you would understand...she's your sister..."

At the mere mention of Sarah, a lump rose in Spieler's throat, a rising harbinger of danger that threatened to make his heart race. It had to be contained. 

"She has nothing to do with this." Spieler could hardly recognize his own voice, the soft whisper that sneaked out of his lips. "This was you and you alone. You murdered Fagin for money and no one else was involved."

"He ruined her hands." 

"The courts ruled it was an accident. The stoplights were defective, the weather conditions were poor, it could've happened to anyone."

"She was going to be a doctor. She would have been a great doctor."

He needed to stop talking.

"Sarah...the hospitals will find use in her knowledge. She will still be a valued member of the health organizations."

"She wanted to heal people, fix people. Make them hap--"

Spieler's hands whitened as he gripped his pen. He needed to stop this.

"We don't use that word." 

Connelly stared at Spieler, as if he was the one who lost his mind.

"I thought you would understand. I did it for her. I thought you would--"

Spieler stood from his chair. He had heard enough insanity.

"What I understand is that you murdered Davide Fagin to conceal your attempts to steal public information and sell it to potential black market buyers. My sister has no involvement in this matter. She is not suspect of murder or, worse, the Capital One Offense I didn't hear you allege in this room." 

Spieler found his partner waiting for him at his desk once he left Connelly in the questioning room. Ross casually flipped the pages of Connelly's copied file as if it was a child's book he realized he read one too many times. 

"We're working the Direct Electronics angle." Spieler said. "Let's start compiling a list of all potential buyers for the personal data collection Connelly would've accumulated on his heist. We could be on the verge of discovering a piracy ring."

"Money wouldn't explain the brutality of the murder." Ross said, his eyes glued on the reddest photo in the file. "Blood analysts have reported the impressions of the blade and the varying ages of the blood in the crime scene indicates the suspecct was under the influence of a Capital One Offense. We should be combing his phone records for CO conspirators." 

"We will comb his records, for buyers." Spieler replied firmly. "I know what the analysts say, but I also know what leading psychologists say about COO, and they state that CO offenses are most likely committed by family members, not strangers. I'm not willing to let a privacy dealer slip away for some supersition." 

Spieler heard the jiggling of chains and the closing of a door behind him. He didn't need to look; they were moving Connelly to processing. He kept his eyes focused on the file, and yet he felt Connelly's eyes boring into the back of his head, and all the desperation that came with them. Spieler wouldn't look. 

"You're probably right." Ross spoke up. "Any woma who's crazy enough to commit COO for that bag of nerves is an idiot."

"Yeah...." Spieler's hands slid against the hard surface of his phone. A few clicks from talking to his sister, from saving her from being a secondary tenant in Time Penn. "Anyone who commits a CO offense for strangers is an idiot."

END