Munch looked at the homeless man in the interrogation room; he looked like any other person from the alleyways of Manhattan. His grey T-shirt was sweat-stained, his tan pants were beyond dirty, and a battered coat hung off the back of the chair in which the old man was sitting. Body odor still lingered in the squad room from when they'd brought him through.
John stared at the older man, searching the man's face for a sign of his father's younger brother, his favorite relative, the charming young man who used to make him giggle by tickling him, the guy who took him to movies and later to the pool hall. His favorite Uncle Andrew who owned the little repair shop he used to sometimes visit as a kid and later worked in as a teenager. John sighed, he couldn't put this off any longer he opened the door and entered the room.
"Hello Uncle Andrew," he greeted the older man.
"Simon?" his uncle asked in confusion.
Munch wasn't sure what hurt worse, the realization that his uncle must be suffering from Alzheimer's or some similar disorder to have thought that he was his father Simon, Andrew's older brother, or that Andrew in that confused state thought that he, John, looked enough like Simon, his long dead father, to have been him.
"No, Uncle Andrew, it's me Johnny. Dad, Simon has been dead a long time. Look at me. I'm older now than Dad was when he died." John pleaded with his uncle to recognize him.
"Of course, that's right," Andrew said, seeming to digest what John had said. "I wouldn't have had to killed that man if Simon was alive," Andrew added.
Munch's breath caught in his throat. "Uncle Andrew, you shouldn't talk about that, not here, not now," he quickly admonished his elderly relative.
"Don't worry, everything's all right Johnny. I took care of things, just like your father used to take care of things for me, for the others, when we were in the camps. Don't worry that Nazi bastard can't hurt us anymore."
Andrew reached out and patted John's hands, reassuring him, a smile gracing his weathered and whiskered face.
"Wait here, Uncle Andrew, I need to talk to my boss and some other people, and then I'll get you out of here. I'll take you home with me, where you can get a meal, a shower, some clean clothes and a good night's rest," John promised.
"All right, if you insist," Andrew replied and sat waiting patiently.
When Munch exited the interrogation room he found Cragen, Stabler, Stabler's new partner and Casey Novak all congregated outside the observation window.
"So have you all been listening in?" John asked angrily, his eyes fixing on Casey Novak.
The guilty looks on their faces told him they had been. It was Casey who spoke up first. "We had no way of knowing he'd make a spontaneous confession to you," she said by way of defending their actions.
"You had no business eavesdropping in the first place!" John yelled at her.
"John!" Cragen yelled at Munch to get his attention and to try and rein him in a little. "It wasn't Casey's idea to listen in, it was mine. So if you're going to be angry, be angry at me."
"Look, nothing he said is going to be used, it's not like you went in there as a detective to get a statement, and he doesn't have a lawyer. I'm not even sure he was read his rights, and even if he was I'm not entirely sure your Uncle is competent to stand trial, that is, if there's enough evidence to bring him to trial."