Ben had been at their office longer than Hank had. Older, thick mustache, and a grim, disgusted expression when they'd investigated the crime.
"Yeah, we can't get straight answers out of the guy. Captain says that that someone up the chain is swearing this can't be his fault," he informs Hank, writing down details on a notepad for their files. "He had to be following orders."
Some people are here in full uniform, but Hank's one of the lieutenants that's been around long enough that he can easily get away with his shirt sleeves rolled up, the hem not tucked in. He's got a reputation after what he's pulled off; people don't usually question it.
He scratches the scruff at his jaw, wrinkling up his nose as he looks through the quick sketches of the crime scene. He remembers the body, the pulp of unrecognizable skull, the way they only could identify it by battle scars. Hank's... seen worse. But not by much.
"So. Not his fault. But couldn't say no to an obviously stupid ass or wrong order. Got it. I'll see what I can get."
Hank grabs up his own notepad, a list of questions already on it, and goes into the interrogation room where the murderer is sitting. He sits heavily in his chair. "Alright, Abner, right? Tell me why you went after the victim? You left the guy almost unrecognizable, left him real fucked up. Like I've only seen beatings like that from guys under the influence of some nasty stuff."
B.) Whodunnit
"Yeah, we can't get straight answers out of the guy. Captain says that that someone up the chain is swearing this can't be his fault," he informs Hank, writing down details on a notepad for their files. "He had to be following orders."
Some people are here in full uniform, but Hank's one of the lieutenants that's been around long enough that he can easily get away with his shirt sleeves rolled up, the hem not tucked in. He's got a reputation after what he's pulled off; people don't usually question it.
He scratches the scruff at his jaw, wrinkling up his nose as he looks through the quick sketches of the crime scene. He remembers the body, the pulp of unrecognizable skull, the way they only could identify it by battle scars. Hank's... seen worse. But not by much.
"So. Not his fault. But couldn't say no to an obviously stupid ass or wrong order. Got it. I'll see what I can get."
Hank grabs up his own notepad, a list of questions already on it, and goes into the interrogation room where the murderer is sitting. He sits heavily in his chair. "Alright, Abner, right? Tell me why you went after the victim? You left the guy almost unrecognizable, left him real fucked up. Like I've only seen beatings like that from guys under the influence of some nasty stuff."