nterrogation was not the highlight for any visitor or even a police officer for that matter. Being on both sides of the tables you could the pressure. For the officers it was not so bad, but if you were the one getting questioned, it was like a grilling.
The man opposite Ben and I, was of a large build. His hair was like wire and his face was blank. Ben read what he was entitled to wiles in interrogation as things had to be done properly.
“So Mr Quinton, what do you have to tell us?” I asked looking deeply into his eyes.
“I did it, I killed that boy.” He said his voice was deep and strong sounding
“What time did it happen?”
The man took a deep breath “It happen at around half seven in the evening.”
Ben looked down to table, giving the man little eye contact “So why did you do it?” Ben asked.
“He gave me lip and I got mad really mad.” Said Mr Quinton instantly.
Ben remained looking down towards the table, with a file in hand, “What type of things did he say to get you angry?” I asked.
“He called me, He called me…” Mr Quinton looked unsure and nervous, he was undoubtedly lying and Ben and I both knew that already, “He called me a Prick and a freak of nature.”
I took a deep breath and sat up straight in the chair, Ben remain slouched in his “So why didn’t you report it then?” Ben asked remaining in his position, “or were you scared?”
Mr Quinton’s blank facial expression, turned and he started to look unsure, “I just, I just got mad, I wanted to deal with it myself,” The tone in his voice made me unconvinced, though I knew he was lying and so did Ben. But it also seemed rehearsed as though he was covering it up for someone. “I didn’t mean to kill him; I just wanted to teach him a lesson on manners.”
“How were you going to do that?” I asked
“I had a knife on me.”
“So you conveniently had a knife on you.” Ben accused sharply, as he got out from his chair.
“Yes I did, is that a crime?”
Ben walked around behind him; He showed no heisted at all, he didn’t even flinch when Ben slammed the file onto the table opening to picture of the knife used, “Was this the knife?” Mr Quinton nodded.
“So what about the second body a young girl, did you kill her too?”
Mr Quinton looked shocked and confused, “Yes, I did.”
“And what time was that?” I asked
“The same day she was also giving me lip.” The tone in his voice showed that he was unconvinced and unsure of what to do.
“That’s inconvenient isn’t it, because we know you’re lying.”
“I am not lying!” Mr Quinton yelled from the top of his lungs.
“Well you don’t look like a woman to me and you certainly don’t have long blond hair,” Ben voice was harsh, but I know what he doing, “so who are you working for or should my colleague here, charge you for lying to the police and for wasting police time?”
“I work for no one;” Mr Quinton slammed his hands on to the table as his body started to tremble “I work for myself.”
“We know you’re lying, Mr Quinton, so don’t waste even more time,” I said directing the attention back, “So you better tell us who it is now.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you,” Mr Quinton was broken. “I work for Mr Graham Woodson and Mrs Mae Young-Woodson.”
Ben looked in my direction and me in his; He was as puzzled as I was. “Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Mr Quinton shook his head, and raised his hands to cover his face.
“Mr Quinton I’m arresting you on lying to police and giving false evidence,” Ben declared, taking out a pair of handcuffs, “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” He then took Mr Quinton’s hands and put the handcuffs on around them.
Mr Quinton was defeated; he knew there was no way back. “I’ve failed.” He said, “I have failed.”