As detective Joel Johnson drank his morning coffee he was thinking about how much better it was than the stuff at the station. He didn't go to Starbucks often, but today he went because it was the best he could get on such short notice.
He had to hurry over to the Carlston City Penitentiary. It was seventy miles east down Highway 1 close to Edmonton. He hated going that far for a case, but pickings were slim these days.
The coffee in his hands started to get down to the last drink so he just chugged down the rest. He had to hurry. He was only an hour away from the interrogation. He jumped into his car
It was an old, red Buick and was close to its last mile. It was scary that the car had lasted over 20 years without being replaced. He always meant to sell it but instead fell in love with it (his wife was always saying that he loved the car more than her).
The inside of his car was white leather. It was very hot in the summer and cold in the winter. He was proud that he hadn't gone with black because imagine how hot that would be. His windows were tinted in the back but he never noticed it (there was almost no difference at all).
He looked into his side mirror to back up and saw his face. His head was egg shaped and he had caterpillar eyebrows. His hair was white (although it had used to be brown). But the thing that caught his eye was that he was starting to bald.
"Oh damn!" he exclaimed, "Pretty soon I'll have no hair at all."
The reason he was so angry was because he was getting old. His retirement party was in a few weeks and this was his last case. Retirement was his greatest fear (and not because he didn't want to stay home with his bitter, old wife!).
He started into first gear and drove down Castle Avenue. He would drive down to Highway 1 from here. He stopped at the first traffic light of his trip.
All he could think about now was his latest case. It involved a convict that had been in jail since thirteen years old. He killed his brother as a kid. He just recently killed eight more people last week and says he didn't do it.
"What a liar." Detective Joel Johnson mumbled. He didn't know how someone could get away with eight murders and still get an investigator (not to mention a private investigator).
Detective Joel Johnson turned onto Highway 1.
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He pulled up to Carlston City Penitentiary an hour later. It was not the usual prison. The fences were low and it was minimum security. The honour system was the main rule. Try to escape and you serve another life sentence.
Carlston wasn't even a city. It was more of a town (smaller than Red Deer but bigger than Grande Prairie). It was very rustic and old, filled with retired citizens (he supposed he would come to live here one day).
He parked in the very small parking lot and got out of his Buick. Then he walked through the unguarded prison doors to the prison.
The inside was very small. It looked big from the outside, but the rooms were cramped with desks. There were people behind the desks and most were asleep.
"Hello," a voice from behind him said, "I'm Greg Greenfeild. I'm the warden around here."
The man behind Joel was as skinny as a toothpick and had dark, chestnut brown hair. He was quite tall and wore a green army uniform.
"Hi," Joel replied. He was unsure what to say next.
"I'll bring you to Richard Statson's cell," the warden said with a strange and worried tone in his voice.
Joel followed the warden down the dank, dark hallway to the end of the jail. The convicts all stared at him along the way. Most of them had scars on their cheeks and black eyes. Just one of the many prizes for getting thrown into the slammer.
They came upon Richard Statsons cell. But Joel didn't see a murdering monster. He saw a timid little man sleeping on his bed. He was very muscular, but he was really small.
"Wake up you sonofabitch!" the warden shouted. The warden's face had turned all red as if he were embarrassed.
The convict got up and wiped his dark blue eyes. Joel suddenly had a change of heart. This man couldn't be a criminal. Not with all the fear and suffering beyond those eyes.
"I'm so sorry warden," Richard said with his eyes getting full of more fear, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Hello Richar-"
"Call me Richy!" Richard exclaimed.
"Okay… Hello Richy. I'm Detective Joel Johnson. You can call me Detective J-J. Now let's talk about what is going on here." Joel said. He felt sorry for this man and now he wanted to prove that this man was innocent.
"That's good!" Richy exclaimed, "I have an important story to tell!"
Soon to be retired, Detective Joel Johnson stepped into Richard Statsons' cell to hear the story of the century.