Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3 — The Interrogation
Downtown, in the sterile, windowless rooms of the precinct, the arrogance was finally breaking. Detective Ramirez sat across the steel table from Daniel Whitaker. Daniel was no longer smirking. His tie was gone. His expensive suit jacket was crumpled on the chair behind him. He looked pale, sweaty, and cornered. “My client has nothing to say,” Daniel’s new criminal defense attorney stated, checking his watch. Ramirez smiled. It was not a friendly smile. He slid a manila folder across the table and flipped it open. Inside were high-resolution prints from Lily’s iPad video. “That’s fine,” Ramirez said. “He doesn’t have to talk. His mother is already talking enough for the both of them.” Daniel’s head snapped up. “What?” “Oh yeah,” Ramirez leaned back, crossing his arms. “Patricia is singing like a canary in Interrogation Room B. Turns out, she doesn't want to go down for attempted murder alone.” Daniel swallowed nervously. “She’s lying. Whatever she said, she’s lying.” “Really?” Ramirez tapped the photograph of Patricia holding a vial of dark liquid. “Because she claims this whole thing was your idea.” Daniel’s lawyer put a hand on his arm, a silent warning to stay quiet. But Daniel was unraveling. “That’s a lie!” Daniel shouted, his voice cracking. “She hated my wife! She hated her from the day we got married. She’s the one who read about the oleander online! She’s the one who brewed the tea!” The attorney closed his eyes and sighed. Ramirez didn’t miss a beat. “So you admit you knew about the poison.” Daniel froze. He realized his mistake a second too late. “I... I didn’t...” “You just said she brewed it. You just said she researched it.” Ramirez leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “We have the bank records, Daniel. You emptied the joint accounts. You took out a massive life insurance policy on your wife six months ago.” Daniel’s mouth opened and closed like a fish suffocating on dry land. “We have the text messages between you and your mother,” Ramirez continued relentlessly. “Messages complaining that the ‘medicine’ was taking too long. Messages where you told her to ‘up the dosage’ for the final hearing.” Daniel buried his face in his hands. His lawyer started packing up his briefcase. “I’ll be advising my client to seek a plea deal, Detective,” the lawyer said quietly. In the next room, Patricia wasn't doing much better. She had demanded her purse. She had demanded a glass of sparkling water. She had demanded to speak to the mayor. Instead, she got Detective Shaw, a veteran investigator with zero patience for wealthy, entitled sociopaths. “I am a respected member of this community,” Patricia huffed, adjusting her pearls with shaking hands. “You can’t keep me here based on a child’s video game recording.” Shaw dropped the toxicology report in front of her. “Your daughter-in-law survived, Patricia. Her blood test shows lethal levels of oleander.” Patricia stared at the paper. “Furthermore,” Shaw added, “we executed a search warrant at your house an hour ago.” Patricia’s eyes widened. “We found the dried leaves in your pantry. Tucked behind the Earl Grey.” The color drained from Patricia’s face, leaving her looking old and hollow. “You’re going to prison, Mrs. Whitaker,” Shaw said flatly. “The only question is whether you want to spend the rest of your life in maximum security, or if you want to confess and take a plea.” Patricia looked down at her manicured hands. For the first time in her life, she had no one to manipulate. The perfect facade was gone. Only the ugly truth remained. She was a monster, and she was finally caught.
