1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 61 Love Me~Let Go~ (Please continue reading)

Colleagues from the Special Investigations Unit arrived quickly and seized the pharmacy's prescriptions and ledgers.

The Texas Narcotics Commission arrived late and raided Mary's home.

They had just gained law enforcement authority this year, and the on-site raid was fraught with difficulties. The entire action team spent half a day planning around an empty house, but no one dared to go in.

Bernie couldn't stand it any longer, so he went over and kicked the door open for them, gesturing for them to enter.

The task force filed in and quickly found a large quantity of barbiturates inside.

Barbiturates, represented by "Red Devil," have a strong sedative effect and are one of the most commonly abused drugs.

Crushing them and mixing them into drinks can produce a euphoric and depressive effect similar to alcohol, making it a favorite among many young party enthusiasts.

Bernie then led them to capture Mary.

The action team followed his example, kicking open the door and rushing in, quickly pinning Mary down as she watched TV on the sofa.

Bernie covered his face, wondering which brilliant person had trained these people.

…………

Mary was just an accident; she wasn't the person they were looking for.

The deceased had a valid alibi at the time of her death.

They hitched a ride with the Special Investigations Division and reviewed the prescription drug purchase records of the remaining pharmacies, but found no record of Cynthia's purchase.

It seems we've come full circle and returned to where we started.

Was Cynthia deliberately unresponsive to her husband's pleas for help, or did she genuinely fall asleep from exhaustion?
Theodore believed that Cynthia would provide the answer.

Bernie expressed his confusion, but Theodore offered no explanation.

The two returned to Moore's house and knocked on the door.

The door opened, and Cynthia was still wearing that white floral dress, clutching a cross in her hand.

Upon seeing the two of them, she breathed a sigh of relief, kissed the crucifix, put it down, and stepped out of the room. "I killed David."

Bernie stared at her in shock, then turned his gaze to Theodore.

At that moment, all the Star News stories I'd ever read flooded my mind: the son of the devil, Lucifer, soul-stealing...

Theodore waited a while, and seeing that Bernie was still staring at him blankly, he had no choice but to take out the handcuffs and put them on Cynthia himself.

Cynthia was unusually cooperative.

Even after Cynthia was registered and taken into the interrogation room, Bernie remained silent, simply staring intently at him.

After Theodore signed the arrest warrant, he dragged him to find Wenner.

The nature of the case has now changed.

Previously, Bernie only suspected a possible homicide, but now someone has voluntarily turned themselves in. This means they must treat it as a murder case.

Fortunately, the most difficult part is over. As long as we find out the details of the crime during the next interrogation, all that's left is some paperwork.

Wenner authorized two people to conduct the interrogation, and given the simplicity of the case, he decided not to mobilize the entire team.

As Theodore left Wenner's office, he waved his hand in front of Bernie's face. "Are you alright?"

Bernie slapped his hand away and said in a complicated tone, "You still say you're not communicating with a ghost."

Theodore silently shook his head and explained the principle to Bernie: "Whether Cynthia Moore was deliberately being passive or genuinely fell asleep from exhaustion, she felt guilty about the deceased's death."

"Isn't that exactly why you suspect her?"

"This guilt will prompt her to tell the truth. If not this time, then next time."

Seeing Bernie's bewildered look, Theodore said no more. "Let's go, we should go see the real 'murderer'."

In the interrogation room.

Cynthia Moore's interrogation went so smoothly that Bernie questioned his existence. She answered almost every question. David Moore couldn't accept the reality of his paralysis, and as the paralysis progressed, his temper became increasingly volatile, and he frequently beat and verbally abused Cynthia Moore.

This situation improved after Donald Jr. came into the picture. During that time, David Moore seemed to have transformed back into the good husband who could work hard on the derrick and provide her with a strong embrace.

Two years ago, David Moore underwent debridement surgery. During that time, his family went through a very difficult period. She borrowed money from the mob to pay for his surgery, and she worked almost non-stop to pay it back.

After the surgery, David Moore suddenly reverted to being the irritable and volatile patient he once was.

He yelled at her, calling her a prostitute and a whore, and sarcastically suggesting that she worked long hours on Rose Street.

He also lashed out at Donald Jr., scaring Donald Jr. so much that he never dared to come near him again.

This situation continued until January of this year.

David Moore has returned to being a good husband.

He asked her to move to his room to sleep, and in order to let her rest a little longer, he would try his best to hold in his excrement and endure the pain without making a sound.

He would reminisce with her about the past every day, care for her, and tell her jokes he heard on the radio.

In March, he began to show obvious symptoms of respiratory failure and had to receive oxygen at night.

One night in April, she was awakened by David Moore's groans. When she went to help him with oxygen, he stopped her.

He grabbed my hand and said, 'No... let me go.'

"He said he should have died in the accident 17 years ago. That way he wouldn't be a burden to me."

“He said he was in too much pain…it was time to let him go.”

He begged me to leave him alone.

Cynthia spoke calmly, her face already streaked with tears.

Bernie handed her a tissue, and after receiving her thanks, asked, "So that's what you were arguing about all this time?"

Cynthia nodded.

Theodore asked, "If the deceased wished for relief, why didn't he seek help from Dr. Martinez?"

Bernie whispered a reminder to Theodore that the Moores were devout Christians.

For them, suicide is a serious crime.

“He wanted Donald to remember… that his father wasn’t a coward, that he didn’t beg for mercy, that he was just knocked down,” Cynthia added.

“But he was begging for mercy,” Theodore said, oblivious to the situation, then asked, “So he asked you to help him commit 'suicide'?”

Cynthia retorted, "No, he didn't commit suicide."

"And what about you?" Bernie couldn't help but ask. "You're killing people."

Cynthia lowered her head and gently turned the ring on her hand. It was a simple plain band, without any gemstones or decorations.

“He started hurting again that day. I increased the painkiller dosage to three times the usual amount, but he was still crying out in pain.”

Seeing how upset he was, I knew it was time. I could no longer keep him.

"I went into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and turned it on full blast, but I could still hear his groans. I put my head in the water and waited and waited. Finally, the cries for help stopped."

"I wrapped myself in a bath towel and went to check, but he was already dead."

Cynthia Moore recounted the story, tears streaming down her face.

Bernie looked at her with a complicated expression, constantly pulling out tissues and handing them to her.

At this point, the case can actually be closed.

Cynthia confessed to the crime and provided a detailed account of the act. Her motive was readily available, and all the necessary elements were present.

(End of this chapter)