It's Nothing Personal Read Online Free PDF

bald spot on
top of his head was Detective Bob Morris.   His cohort, Detective Joe Pacheco, was younger, leaner, and much more
attractive.  
    Never having met either of these detectives
face-to-face, Hillary was taken aback by the fact that they certainly seemed to
recognize her.
    Detective Morris introduced himself and his
partner.   Hillary stood in front of
the men with her thumbs tucked in her back pockets and simply nodded.   She was much too nervous to speak or
shake hands.
    Not wasting any time, Detective Morris
pointed toward the back of the lobby and said, “Follow me.”
    Hillary felt her mouth go dry as she trailed
behind Detective Morris, while Detective Pacheco took up the rear.   She could not shake the impression that
this line up was strategic, in case she tried to bolt.   The threesome maneuvered through a maze
of tight hallways and corridors until they came to a room at the end of a
hall.   A sign on the door read,
“Interview Room 4.”   Detective
Morris opened the door and gestured for Hillary to enter.
    The room itself was intimidating by its mere
simplicity.   The space was small, no
more than 10 feet by 12 feet.   In
the center sat a standard foldout table with two plastic chairs on one side and
a single chair on the other.   A
video camera was mounted in a corner of the room near the ceiling.   Hillary followed the trajectory of the lens
and realized it was pointed directly at the chair she assumed she would
occupy.   A red light below the lens
flashed on and off.   She was already
being videotaped.
    Detective Morris followed Hillary inside the
room.   Pointing to the solitary
chair, he said, “Please, take a seat.”
    Hillary sat down and noticed there was a
one-way glass on the wall behind where the detectives took their chairs.   Staring at her own reflection, knowing
that strangers were likely behind the glass watching her, made Hillary feel self-conscious
and vulnerable.   There were three
bottles of water on the table.   Detective Morris offered one to Hillary, took one himself, and gave the
last one to Detective Pacheco.   With
shaking hands, she accepted the bottle and twisted off the cap.   Noisily, she swallowed one large gulp,
wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
    “Ms. Martin,” said Detective Morris, “just
to lay the framework for our interview, I need to make sure you understand that
your statements today are completely voluntary.   You can end this interview any time you
want.   You also need to understand
that anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.   Is this all clear?”
    Hillary slouched in her chair and tucked her
unwashed hair behind her ears.   Without
looking up, she answered, “Yes.”
    Detective Morris continued, “Do you also
understand that you have the right to have an attorney present during
questioning?   If you can’t afford
one, the court can appoint one for you.”
    “Yes.”   Hillary continued to speak in the
direction of the floor.
    Detective Morris handed a document and a pen
to Hillary.   “If you still wish to
proceed with this interview without an attorney, I need to have you sign at the
bottom of this form.”
    The gravity of the situation smothered
Hillary as she held the pen.   Glancing at Detective Morris, much like a daughter asking her father for
advice, she questioned, “Do you think
I should have an attorney?”
    Detective Morris responded with cool
professionalism, “I can’t advise you one way or the other.   It’s up to you.   But if you want one, now is the time to
make that request.”
    Hillary placed the paper on the table,
signed her name, and snickered, “I guess you guys pretty much know what’s been
going on already.”
    With the formalities completed, Detective
Morris said, “Probably a good place to start is for you to tell us why you think you’re here.”
    Hillary’s response was flat and detached,
“I’m here because, you know, I need to turn myself in.