Patrick Jane enjoys finding out the truth. He finds a sick kind of pleasure in correcting someone, catching them in their lies. He will smile oh so charmingly as he traps the unsuspecting person in his words—an arrogant and self-assured smile.
Patrick Jane has a knack for finding out the nastiest skeletons in the closet. Some lies he will let pass by, but he won't give others the same opportunity—he's the first to call out an affair, a nasty divorce, a childhood of bullying. To him, no secret is too sacred.
Patrick likes this control that he has, this power. His team in the CBI has the power to hand out justice, but he has his own God-like power to determine whose name will remain clean, whose name will become blackened—it doesn't matter if that person is innocent or guilty of the crime in question.
Patrick Jane likes the interrogation room. He likes to enter a room knowing the person he is talking to will not be nearly as unblemished as when he leaves. He likes nothing better than finding out that it's the grieving widow, the blameless son who is at the root of the murder—the most innocent become the most guilty.
Patrick Jane likes catching other people's lies, he likes laying out their sins so neatly in front of them. Patrick Jane likes nothing more than to prove these people are only human, sometimes less than human. He enjoys their frustration, revels in their dashed attempts at deception.
Still, in the end, Patrick Jane knows deep down that the worst sinner of all is— contrary to what he may lead other to believe— not the person in the interrogation room, not the person being led away in handcuffs.
The worst sinner of all is himself.