Two hours after the fact, Doctor Murphy finally granted the exhausted detectives access to Luther's room. Carefully navigating around the many machines, cables and tubes that were attached to the young man in one form or another, they stood by the foot of the bed, taking in the many bruises appearing on his face and chest with growing sorrow.

"I'd never seen my dad quite like that.", Luther said, his voice weary and hoarse, as he fought through the grogginess from the anesthesia, "He was…very different this morning. His eyes…they were weird, almost frantic. And once he started to drink, I had a bad feeling about the whole situation."

Nodding understandingly, Mike put his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, trying to change his stance to take some pressure of his aching back.

"You said that you guys began to argue about your role in…in disposing Sarah's body."

With a tormented groan, Luther nodded.

"I tried to convince him to go to the police, fess up. Tell them what happened and that her death was an accident. I knew that eventually; you guys would figure out the truth."

"Well, you will have to admit that all the trauma to her body didn't happen from one punch, Luther. Your father beat her for quite a while, with his fists…then a metal pipe. Broke many of her bones and caused internal damage, just like he did with you. He waited for her to return from the festival at her friend's hangout, then worked her over, then called you up to help dispose of the body…in legal terms, that's not exactly the definition of an accident. Premeditated Murder would be more precise."

Steve's tone of voice was quiet, non-judgmental, after hearing the harrowing tale of Jason Roberts' step-by-step plan to kill his defiant daughter, and the vileness of his decision to get his young son involved to cover up the crime.

It had become obvious early on that Martha Roberts' statement about her son's social insecurity was an understatement at best. Stumbling through his explanations, Luther almost cowered in the corner of his bed, barely able to make eye-contact with the two San Francisco detectives. It seemed reasonable to assume that the young man had been used as a naïve tool by his father, who knew that the family connection would prevent him from going to the police, even if it involved his sister.

"He told me it was an accident. And that he needed my help to…to hide her body. But then she woke up and ran away and he screamed at me to back up the car. And I was scared and I backed up the car as fast as I could. I felt a thud and it…it took me a while to stop and then I drove off. I…I was scared…"

The nearby machines started to beep erratically as Luther sobbed, his tears invisible beneath the black eyes and broken cheekbone, courtesy of his father.

Putting a hand on the young mans' trembling shoulder, Mike nodded in understanding, hoping to calm him down before the nurses would chase them out.

"Okay…okay. Let's change topics for a moment, shall we?"

Glancing up to meet his partner's weary green eyes, Mike drew in a deep breath, trying not to let the tragedy of the situation get the better of him.

"Luther, did your father tell you why he hid the Skylark and reported it stolen?"

The red-haired young man with the crew-cut hair calmed down somewhat, his terrified brown eyes locked onto the ceiling.

"One time he said that he was hiding it to get the insurance money. Another time, he said he was hiding it from mom. I didn't even know about it until he pressured me to drive it to…to get rid of Sarah. And then a couple days later, he gave me an extra set of keys, and a wig and we drove to the park and he told me to wait for you guys to show up and get you to chase me. He said he'd hide the car in the meantime and for me to grab a taxi home, once I shook you off."

Jason Roberts' startlingly erratic behavior didn't make the least bit of sense, and both detectives knew it. Barring a conversation with Lenny, it was hard to envision how somebody who was considered a calm and organized man could turn into a raging lunatic in two short years of being laid off. Then again, Steve's idea of an autopsy and a full spectrum toxicology report didn't seem that far out anymore either.

Drugs had been known to cause excessive behavior patterns.

When he saw the overwhelming exhaustion and grief take a toll on the injured young man, Mike decided to call it a day, knowing well enough that the rest of their unanswered questions could only be tied together by two entities…the forensics lab and the experienced minds of the Homicide department.

"Luther, we're going to type up a statement for you to sign tomorrow morning. We've submitted our evidence to the DA's office and they will need to decide whether or not to charge you with accessory. I know that your cooperation in this matter will look favorable though."

The young man's eyes dropped to his hands resting on his stomach, one wrist in a thick cast.

"Will I have to go to prison, Lieutenant?"

Falling quiet at the question he dreaded hearing, Mike pursed his lips, then glanced over at his exhausted partner, knowing they shared the same sentiment about the young man's fate.

"See Luther, we don't get to make those decisions. We can only make recommendations to the DA's office, based on the evidence we find.", he said in the most neutral voice he could muster that night, "And in your case, I am planning on telling Gerry O'Brian that you already served your sentence for the past two years."