11:11 A.M. Los Angeles Police Department, Interrogation Room
Police Officer Mike Meekins had arrived at the department as soon as he could from the District Court. He took off his hat, just as a formality before sitting down. He breathed deeply and looked into the eyes of the person he was sitting in front of; the teenage boy who almost killed two people while intoxicated.
The boy's eyes were almost grey in color, and his face lacked emotion. He kept a straight face. The presence of a police officer didn't seem to deter his ego. His brown hair was unkept and disheveled, and looked as if it hadn't been cut or combed in months.
Meekins asked, "Now, sir, I believe they have read you your rights. I don't see an attorney in this room, so I can assume you don't have one?"
The boy grumbled, "No. Besides, I'm already guilty. You saw me go out and almost kill somebody. I almost committed manslaughter. So why are we even here? Can't you just put me in the Big House already?"
Meekins clasped his right hand around his megaphone, and prepared to raise it. "Hold on, now. You're not acting like a man. Why condemn yourself now, before your trial date? Talk to me. Maybe we can sort things out." The boy sighed, "Fine. I'll talk. Just this once."
"First off, tell me a bit about yourself, Mister..."
The boy interrupted, "Reece Handel. 17 years of age. Single, not dating. My girlfriend broke up with me a few days ago. And I decided to start doing things behind my mother's back to relieve the pain."
Meekins reiterated, "So you starting drinking beer and smoking tobacco just to relieve the pain of a break-up?"
Handel yelled, "Well, she was a nice girl, man! She was the cutest one I've dated in a while! And I, you know, hate getting... flipping dumped!" Meekins got slightly agitated.
"Now, where did you get this stuff from? How exactly did you get your hands on both alcohol and tobacco?" Handel scoffed, "I wasn't done talking yet. The break-up was a minor incident. I really didn't care about that. But I loved the fact that it made you forget about all this stuff and make you feel awesome..."
Meekins raised the megaphone and screamed, "WHO GAVE YOU THE DRUGS?!" Handel replied, "A few friends. They needed quick money, so I gave it to them, and in return, they gave me a few drugs. But when I asked for a few more drinks, they said, 'We quit, Mr. Shit!' and took off."
The police officer was quite surprised. "Tell me a little more about your 'friends' you speak of." Handel grumbled, "They're two girls, older than me. One of which is okay and was nice, the other is mentally ill and needs to be admitted to the psychiatric ward."
Meekins grinned, "Interesting, Handel-boy. Now keep talking."
The teenager continued, under increased pressure. "The mental one obviously had bipolar disorder. One moment, she was happy as can be, for no apparent reason, rubbing her lust off on everybody. But the next day, she was practically homicidal and wanted to break somebody's neck. She wouldn't take her meds because she thought it was all a conspiracy."
The officer remarked, "Conspiracy? What is so bad about taking a few pills in the morning?"
Handel answered, "The one time she took her medication, she became horribly ill. She thought that someone had adulterated her medication and was trying to kill her with intent."
Meekins thought, "She's crazy. Does she happen to be capable of murder?"
Handel scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't know. Probably. She could probably commit a very horrific murder, you know, one that features deceit and things?" Immediately, Meekins stopped the interrogation.
"That's all we need for now. We'll get into the fine print later. For now, welcome to your new home." He opened the door and led him to his cell.