After being informed about the result of the Larry Tyler interview, Stillman had Byron Wilford picked up from work and brought into one of the interrogation rooms at the police precinct. When Stillman entered the room along with Kat, Wilford did not appear to be in a good mood.
"Why the hell did you have to pick me up from my job?" He asked angrily. "If you had just called I would have came in on my own. Now I'm going to have to explain to all my co-workers why I'm involved with the police!"
"Trust me Byron, that's the least of your problems." Kat coldly replied. "You're going to have to explain a hell of a lot more the that. Starting with why you've been lying to us this whole time."
"What do you mean?"
"It's really simple," said Stillman. "First you denied any involvement with Gerald Allen. Then you lied about not knowing where Darnell would be the night he was killed."
"But I told you the truth!" Byron insisted. "I didn't work the same shift as Darnell. You can check with the old duty roster if you want to."
"We don't need too," Kat pointed out. "Because we know you were at Darnell's Super Bowl party a week before the game. And he told everyone there when he was going to work on the night he was killed, and the area he would be in."
This statement caused Byron's attitude to change. He nervously looked around, trying to think of something to say. "Oh, that. Well...uh...Maybe he did mention that at the party, but I forgot all about it. It was 26 years ago."
Stillman did not look convinced at all. "That's quite a selective memory you have there, Byron. After all, you had no problem remembering an incident in the police station that implicated Darnell's best friend in his murder."
Before Byron could respond, Kat cut in. "Come on Byron, how did it go down? Did Gerald Allen pay you to spy on Darnell? Maybe he wanted you to look for a good opportunity to take him out? If that's true we can cut a deal with you to testify against him."
"That's not what happened at all!" Wilford shot back.
"Or maybe you did it all on your own." Stillman added. "You were worried Darnell would find out you were being bribed by Allen, so you decided to use that bribery money to hire some help and take him out when he was on patrol. You figured if you did it right, Darnell's death would look like nothing more then a tragic statistic in the fight against crime."
"No! Look I already told you my prints are not ones they found on Darnell's revolver. You can check for yourself."
"That remains to be seen," responded Stillman. "But even if that's true, it doesn't mean you were not involved. We are looking for more then just the shooter in this case. We also want whoever was involved in planning the whole scheme, and right now the smart money is on you."
Wilford sighed. "Look, what do I have to do to convince you I wasn't involved?"
"A lot. But you can start by telling us where you were the night he was killed. And you better be straight with us. The 'I was home alone' defense isn't going to cut it," said Kat.
"Oh what's the point?" Asked Byron. "You already think I'm guilty, and if I tell you where I really was that night, it will only make me look worse."
"Look around you Byron," Stillman pointed out. "You're in a police station being interrogated by two people who think you're involved in the pre-meditated killing of a cop. And you've already been caught lying to us twice. How could you anything you tell us possibly make you look worse?"
Wilford finally gave in. "Alright fine. I know you won't believe me, but the night Darnell was killed I did spend most of the night home alone. But about 1:20 am, I went out for a fix."
"A fix?"
"Yeah, back then I had a drug problem. And being on the payroll of a drug kingpin had a few side "benefits". In addition to bribing me, Allen also let me help myself to his goods whenever I wanted them."
"Okay fine. So where did you go?"
"I went out to the condemned apartment complex at 1312 Summers street. That was Allen's turf. I knew he usually had a few dealers hanging out around that area at the time of the morning, so I went over there to get some blow and go home."
This statement caught Stillman's attention. "1312 Summers Street? That's right next to the pay phone where the anonymous phone call was made. The one that report the "suspicious" people loitering around the Westland Jewelry store and sent Darnell Prince to his death."
"I know, and a few days later I found that out myself. It scared the hell out of me. I knew if any of the cops who had been at Darnell's Super Bowl party ever found out that I was in the same area right around the time when the phone call was made, they would think I was the one who made it. That's why I lied to you before."
"Your suspicions were very well-founded," said Kat. "But let's assume you're telling the truth. If you didn't make the phone call, then who did?"
"I can't say for sure, but I think I've got a pretty good idea. You see, just as I expected, I found one of Allen's dealers in that area that night. But the person I found there wasn't what who I expected. On the contrary, he was a total surprise.
("Refugee" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
Byron walked down the nearly empty streets of Philadelphia to the condemned apartment complex on Summers street. Just as he suspected, when he got there, he found there was someone standing in a dark corner, a person who Byron knew worked for Gerald Allen. But all the same, the person he found was a total surprise. Because that person was David Landis. The same David Landis that Byron had heard didn't work for Allen any more.
"Well, well, well. Look who's here," Byron said sarcastically as he approached David. "I heard you were through working for Allen."
"Well I guess you heard wrong," replied David. He seemed to be deeply focused on something and only paying partial attention to Byron.
"And to think your father and his friend Darnell seemed totally convinced your involvement with Allen was over," Byron continued. "They both think so highly of you. Kind of tragic isn't it? They both rambled on about how you had such a bright future, but in the end it looks like all you're really going to be is a shitbag dope dealer for the rest of your life."
"I don't need any morality lectures from a corrupt junkie cop," David replied. "Now get lost, I'm busy."
Byron was moderately upset at the remark, but he quelled his anger. "Not so fast kid. I'm just here for a fix. You hook me up with some of your stash and I'm outta here."
"Sorry Byron, I ain't got nothing for you tonight. You'll have to go poison yourself somewhere else," Once again, it seemed like David was deeply focused on something else. He kept looking nervously away, not paying much attention to Byron at all.
Now Byron was enraged. He stormed over to David and pulled out his revolver. "Why you worthless little shit!" He shouted, pointed his gun directly at David's head. "Perhaps you don't understand the arrangement I've got with your boss. Whenever I want to help myself to his merchandise, I get it! So you better hand over the goods if you don't want your brains scattered all over the sidewalk."
David was seemed terrified now, bur he managed to keep calm. "L-l-look man, you're missing the point here. I don't have any drugs on me tonight. And threatening me with your .38 ain't going to change that."
"If you don't have any drugs on you, then what the hell are you doing here?"
"Allen's got me out here for a 'special assignment," David explained.
"Special assignment?" Byron asked. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"I mean I'm involved in something a lot more important then dealing. And Allen's gonna be really pissed if you fuck it all up."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It doesn't matter what you believe. We both know Allen doesn't tolerate anyone on his payroll messing with his dealers, so you can't lay a hand on me."
Byron paused for a second, trying to think of a response, but he knew David was right. "Whatever," he angrily muttered as he put his gun away. "Next time I see you, you had better be more accommodating. Allen might be our employer, but I'm the one with a badge. And you damn sure don't want to get on my bad side."
With that, he turned around and angrily stormed off.
"Byron, I gotta say I'm very disappointed with you," said Kat as Byron finished the story. "After all those years on the force and all this time to think of a good story, that's the best you could come with?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've heard quite a few unusual alibis before," Said Stillman. "But this really stands out. "Not do you want us to believe that you weren't involved in a murder because you were out trying to score drugs and threatening teenagers at gun point, you also want us to believe David Landis is the one who called the police and sent Darnell to his death?"
"Well I didn't actually see him make the call," Byron admitted. "But yeah, that's what it seemed like based on what I know."
"Oh come Wilford, this is getting ridiculous," said Kat while mockingly rolling her eyes. "First you tried implicate Darnell's best friend, and now you try to pin the murder on his best friend's son?
Byron sighed. "See this is why I didn't mention this before. I knew you wouldn't believe me."
"Byron, by this point I'm starting to believe you would pin the murder on Darnell's own parents if they weren't dead already."
Byron thought of something. "Wait a sec, why don't you just compare my prints to the ones on that pay phone? That would prove I wasn't the one who made the call."
Kat rolled her eyes. "Nice try Byron, but we both know damn well there wasn't any..."
Suddenly she was interrupted by a knock on the interview room door. Stillman got up and left to see what it was about, leaving Kat alone with Byron in the interview room. Outside, Vera was waiting for him.
"Sorry to interrupt, Lt." Said Vera. "But I just got a call from Scotty and Lil from the crime lab."
"Yeah they told me they were going to turn in the .45 pistol they found in Larry Tyler's house and have it checked through the crime database to see if they could match it to anything that happened in the late 70's or early 80's." Stillman said
"Anyway, when they got there, the lab boys had a report waiting for them about Byron's fingerprints," Vera continued. Turns out Byron here was telling the truth about something. He was right. His prints don't match the ones on Darnell's revolver."
"Well I guess there's a first time for everything," remarked Stillman. "But now he wants us to exonerate him by comparing his prints to the ones on the pay phone where the call to the police was made that night."
"That guy's got a lot nerve," Vera fumed. "I'm sure he knows damn well they never found any usable prints on that."
Stillman thought for a moment. "Well, maybe not. Byron wasn't involved in the original investigation. It's possible he actually doesn't know about the lack of prints on the phone."
"But he worked as in the evidence room." Vera pointed out. "Even if he wasn't on the case, he still had access to information about it."
"It's possible. But all the same, right now we still don't any real proof he was involved in the murder. So until we get some, I think it would be worth the effort to test his story."
"What did you have in mind?" Asked Vera.
"Wilford has already offered to have his prints tested against the ones he thinks we found on the phone. Now, he may know that the original investigators didn't find any, but David Landis sure doesn't. Let's bring him in and see if how he responds to a request to have his prints tested. If Byron's story is accurate, then maybe we can use a bluff about the prints to get the truth."