“You’re telling me this is an open and shut case? There is a mob outside baying for the head of Constable Parrish, social media sites are up in arms –.”
“They do so love their false outrage in the morning.” The Detective didn’t move from his chair. “The public does not get to eclipse fact, Ms. Brown. Nor should their arrogance assume they can judge what they do not understand. You cannot sum pages of police reports into a twitter feed, and I am not throwing a constable under the bus for political expediency. You can tell the mayor this however you like, of course.”
“Constable Parrish shot an unarmed man!”
“An unarmed white man, yes. And the good constable is Indian, if you wish to spin that into your narrative as well.”
“Call the mayor, Emily. Ask him about October 30th 1997.”
Ms. Brown marched out of the room, returned in under four minutes. Her expression was made of nothing save shock as the Detective handed her over a folder without a single word.
“There are people who can do impossible things,” the Detective said quietly. “Terrible, impossible and grotesque things. It is not well understood, but Constable Parrish recognized the signs. And killed the target before he could kill a great many people with his power.”
“Telekinesis.” Ms. Brown let out a small laugh. “How do you expect me to spin this to the press, Detective?”
“I have no idea. But it is your job. Let’s see if you’re as good as spinning truth as you are at the rest of it.”
“That is uncalled for,” she snapped, but the Detective held her gaze until she looked away. After a time, she stood and walked to the door.
“Open and shut,” the Detective said softly, and closed the filing cabinet beside the desk with a glance.