INT. INTERROGATION ROOM – NIGHT – DIM LIGHT, METAL CHAIRS, AND TENSION THICK AS STEEL
Mr. Simon sat cuffed to the table, his wrinkled hands trembling slightly under the dim light. Across from him sat Captain Scott—cool, composed, but sharp-eyed like a wolf sizing up its prey.
Scott leaned in slowly, his voice low and deliberate. "Mr. Simon… You've been trying real hard to protect your son. But the game's over. We caught him."
Simon scoffed, lips curling into a sneer. "Liar. There's no way you found him. He's too smart for you rats."
Scott chuckled and sat back, folding his arms. "Oh, you really think we're a bunch of fools, huh? Well, hate to break it to you—we found him holed up like a roach in Greenwich Village. Not so smart after all."
Simon's face drained of color. His bravado cracked. "You… you caught him? For real?"
Scott tilted his head with a cold smirk. "Yeah. He should've picked a better place to hide. I'm telling you now, so you don't waste your breath lying when we charge you as his accomplice. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Without waiting for a reply, Scott stood and walked out.
INT. OBSERVATION ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Stephanie's eyes stayed fixed on Simon's trembling hands. "You were right, Cap. He flinched hard the second you mentioned Greenwich Village."
Scott nodded. "Take him back to holding."
"On it," Ray said, grabbing Simon's arm and hauling him out.
Scott's eyes narrowed. "Let's go get the bastard."
EXT. GREENWICH VILLAGE – NIGHT – DESERTED STREETS, MOONLIGHT FILTERING THROUGH FOG
Siren lights were cut off blocks before the destination. Several unmarked vehicles lined the alley near St. Michael Street. Scott and his team moved with trained precision, dark clothing blending into the night.
Frank leaned in close, voice barely above a whisper. "House number 13. That's our mark."
Scott motioned for his team to fan out. Flashlights were killed. Silence fell. The house loomed ahead, shadowed, broken windows like dead eyes staring back at them.
They approached with weapons drawn. Scott gave the signal. The front door creaked as they pushed it open—
CRASH!
A body burst through the side window. David Parker. Wild-eyed. Blood smeared across his shirt. He lunged and grabbed an officer, knife pressed hard against the man's throat.
"Step back or I swear, I'll slit his damn neck!" Parker roared, dragging the officer backwards.
INTENSE STANDOFF – SECONDS DRAG LIKE HOURS
Officers froze. One shouted into the radio, "Hostage situation! Requesting backup now!"
Scott didn't blink. He stepped forward, raising his firearm just slightly. "Easy, Parker. Don't do this."
Parker screamed, eyes darting. "I said back off!"
But Scott had already zeroed in. In one smooth motion, he extended his arm through the broken window and—BANG!
Parker screamed as he dropped to his knees, blood pouring from a graze wound in his leg. The knife clattered to the sidewalk. Officers swarmed and pinned him down.
"Cuff him," Scott ordered, tossing the handcuffs to Stephanie.
She stormed over, fury in her eyes. "David Parker, you're under arrest for trespassing, criminal communication, and murder. You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
INT. HOUSE – LATER – CRIME SCENE
Forensics teams swept through the run-down house with gloved hands and cameras. Animal remains were unearthed behind the house, half-buried, twisted and decaying.
Scott frowned. "Sick bastard…"
EXT. POLICE STATION – DAWN – MEDIA STORM
The moment their van pulled into the station, a crowd of reporters rushed the barricade, shouting over each other.
"How do you feel now?!"
"Why did you kill them?!"
"Do you hold grudges against your victims?!"
Then—SLAP! A grieving man broke through the line and grabbed Parker by the collar.
"You bastard! You killed my daughter!" he screamed.
Officers pulled him back, holding him in place while Parker was escorted inside, expression blank.
Cameras flashed. Reporters pushed forward.
"You'll get a press briefing soon!" one officer barked. "Back off or leave!"
Some reporters obeyed. Most didn't. They lingered outside, desperate for scraps.
INT. INTERROGATION ROOM – LATER – SECURITY CAMERA FOOTAGE ROLLING
Parker sat alone, hands cuffed to the table, his leg bandaged. A twisted smile stretched across his face as he stared directly into the camera.
INT. OBSERVATION ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Scott, Ray, Stephanie, and Frank stood watching the screen.
"Did he just smile?" Ray spat, fists clenched. "That crazy bastard…"
"He's calm. Too calm," Stephanie whispered. "No fear, no remorse."
Scott narrowed his eyes. "He's playing the odds. Thinks he can worm his way out."
Frank crossed his arms. "Do we even need his confession? We've got the murder weapon, the eyewitness, and a mountain of evidence."
Scott turned to him. "We do if we want this to be airtight. No loopholes. No escape. We're not just putting him away—we're burying him."
Ray nodded. "Then let's make him talk."