"Mister Carigio, you have no idea how delighted I am that we were able to help you with that amnesia you were suffering from in regards to the high-powered rifle you brought back from the war; an unregistered weapon you own that appears to have been used in the murder of sixty-four people…should I say that again? Sixty-four people…"
Mike sighed inwardly when Forester's pitbull approach to interrogating their suspect resumed despite the brawl it had started earlier.
Positioning himself by the side window between both parties as a precautionary measure, he kept his trained eyes glued on Carigio, noticing the rapid eye movement, uneven breathing, flushed cheeks.
It gave him hope that a breakthrough was impendent.
"I never said I don't own it. I said it's none of your goddamn business. I'm not gonna allow this to turn into a police state where clowns like you can just come over and harass law abiding citizens whenever you want.", the bar owner hissed defensively and kneaded his knuckles, as if he was considering another attack.
"You won't have to worry about that.", Mike chimed in, a cordial smile playing on his lips, "You see, we're busy enough harassing those who do not abide by the law. Like you. Because owning an unregistered weapon is against the law in this country. And if we can prove that it was your gun who killed all these innocent people, Mister Carigio, you're going to wish you never met us."
The Lieutenant's words, said in unwavering determination, seemed to snap the bar owner out of his heightened state of arrogance when he glanced up at both detectives nervously, before resuming his fidgeting.
"It was stolen. About six months ago."
"Oh, for crying out loud!", Forester protested, then shook his head in ridicule, "You honestly expect us to believe this now?"
"It's the truth, whether you like it or not."
Carigio's voice was quivering, his eyes searching the interrogation room table for something to stare at. When his search yielded nothing, he glanced back at the detectives beneath his lowered brows.
"I had it on me when the guys and I went to a shooting range up north. It was supposed to be a fun weekend trip. We started to gamble and drink, and when I woke up the next morning, it was gone. Somebody stole it throughout the night."
Sharing a worried glance with Forester, Mike drew in a deep breath, before clearing his throat again.
"You mean one of your so-called friends stole it? Who else would have known that you owned it?"
"There were other guys at the card game too. They could have seen the gun case and put two-and-two together. Like I said, when I woke up, the case and ammo were still there. The gun was gone. I couldn't be sure who took it, so I pretended that everything was fine, hoping that the thief would give himself away sooner or later, but that never happened. I had a bad feeling that somebody was going to do some serious damage with that gun, that's why I kept the case and ammo hidden inside my mattress. I wanted nothing to do with the damage it could cause."
"You have got to be one of the biggest imbeciles I've met during my three decades on the force, Carigio.", Forester yelled angrily, resting his palms on the table as he leaned forward, "You smuggled that gun in. You used it to show off in front of your buddies. You kept it unsupervised. You're to blame for what happened! Simple as that!"
"You can't charge me with anything related to this case. I didn't pull the damn trigger!"
"You might as well have.", Mike growled and joined Forester by the table, "Because if we find proof that it was your gun that was used, I'll be sure to have you face all the parents, loved ones and siblings of every single person that was killed by your poor decision making."