You call this a coroner in North America?

After arriving at the cemetery.

Brian was not in a hurry to fulfill his obsession.

He first came to the tombstone of single mother Emmaline Keller and placed a bouquet of flowers on it. Then he sat down and told the sad evening breeze about the adoption of little Ellie and Andres's death and retribution.

In fact, he knew.

There is no so-called retribution in this world.

If he hadn't taken action.

The worst ending for Andres would be to go to prison to operate a sewing machine and pick up soap. He might even enjoy it. If he was sick, he would have medical treatment. If he was wronged, he would have a free psychologist. He could also often enjoy the so-called humanitarian care gifts and letters sent in by the sand dollars outside.

This is really ironic.

After pouring out his heart.

Brian let out a long breath of depression and felt much better.

He has been in the Forensic Bureau for a long time.

He has seen too many diversity of human nature.

Some people kill their own sons and daughters in order to defraud insurance and design accidents.

There are hidden gentlemen who lock up their mothers, wives, and daughters for others to play with and earn drug money.

For these things.

Brian's heart has long been numb.

Even so.

He was still touched by Emmaline Keller's experience.

Good people.

Should not experience such an experience!

Those bad people.

They are not qualified to enjoy humanitarian care!

Brian clenched his fists, and his mind uncontrollably rose up the pleasure of inserting the screwdriver into Andres' neck that day.

He seemed to have found a real way to cure his mental illness!

The silver moon above his head was hanging in the air.

Brian, who had been in a daze for a long time, saw that there was no one in the cemetery, so he walked to the tombstone next door and silently unbuttoned his pants.

A moment.

A unique warm current was injected into Brian's two kidneys.

At the same time.

A sense of enlightenment surged into his heart.

This time, after completing the obsession, the gift he received was a passive talent: rage!

"Rage?"

Brian was a little confused.

Passive talent, he understood.

But what does fury mean?

In extreme anger, was he angry for a moment?

Looking at the night crows looking at him from the dead branches of the cemetery, and the many gloomy tombstones around him.

Brian thought about it, and finally did not dare to try in this unsafe place.

Let's talk about it when we get back.

Out of the cemetery.

Brian got in the car, inserted the key, turned on the headlights, and illuminated the dimness around.

He was just about to start the car to return.

A pistol quietly stretched out from the back seat and pointed at his head!

"The wallet is on my chest, I will close my eyes and not see your face clearly"

Brian raised his hands from the bottom of his heart, motionless, indicating that he had no intention of resisting and threats.

Click~

The cold touch came from his raised hands.

By the time Brian reacted, his hands had been put on silver handcuffs.

"Get out of the car."

The pistol against his head was taken back.

A heavy voice came from behind.

Brian glanced at his waist, and finally did not choose to let go, and stood under the car obediently.

Strengthening the sense of smell, after turning it on, will seriously affect life and consume a lot of energy. He usually doesn't turn it on, but he didn't expect to be successful today.

With the light from the car.

Brian also saw the appearance of the attacker.

The other party was a tall white middle-aged man, wearing a suit, with a badge representing LAPD on the right collar.

This kind of dress is usually exclusive to plainclothes detectives.

This guy is a detective from the detective bureau!

Moreover, Brian felt that the other party looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen him.

"Dude, is this a misunderstanding? I am..."

He tried to throw out his identity as a member of NW to protect himself.

Before Brian finished speaking.

The next moment.

The white detective, with a hook, hit Brian's stomach hard, hitting him open his mouth wide, trying to make a sound, but the pain made it difficult to breathe, so he could only hunch over, half-kneel on the ground, and lost the power to resist.

The white detective took advantage of the situation and laid Brian on the ground. He skillfully groped around and threw all the guns, documents and other items he had just received on the ground. After making sure that Brian had no room to fight back, he picked him up from the ground again and threw him to the open space in front of the car.

He put away the pistol, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, took a deep breath, and then exhaled the smoke, and said in a deep voice: "Mr. Brian, it's nice to see you again. Now you can tell me how you killed Andres."

"Ahem~"

Brian struggled to stand up.

He spit out a mouthful of saliva and looked at the man in confusion: "I don't know what you are talking about. Besides, have we met?"

The white detective shook his head and threw Brian to the ground again with another hook punch: "Andres' body was sent to the Forensic Bureau by me. I was following your colleague at the time."

"Ahem~"

Brian spat out blood this time.

He struggled to get up from the ground again, looking at the white detective in front of him like a lunatic: "Just because I came to visit the poor victim, you think I am the murderer who killed Andres?"

"Pretend, keep pretending." The white detective looked at Brian like a clown: "After 8 o'clock, no one will appear here except the drunk gravekeeper. We have a lot of time to communicate tonight."

Looking at the man whose face could not be seen clearly under the car lights, surrounded by smoke.

Brian showed a helpless and angry expression: "I just received a message from my colleagues. I pity the tragic mother's experience, so I came here. Besides, I don't know what you are talking about. Tom told me that Andres was the murderer and he committed suicide out of fear of crime."

"I don't understand why you people are so stubborn."

The white detective threw away the cigarette butt, picked up Brian's NW member temporary certificate on the ground, patted it, and said with a smile: "Do you know where your flaw is?"

Listening to the other party's affirmative tone.

Brian stopped talking and just lowered his head silently.

The white detective enjoyed this process very much.

He continued:

"Andres died too cleanly.

The murderer's method was professional, and the fatal wound was quick, accurate and ruthless.

This shows that the murderer is very familiar with the structure of the human body. This is your first flaw!

The second flaw is that you acted too quickly.

Andres killed his wife and neighbor, and then died in the hotel.

He was a loner and had no friends. He was drunk and sloppy at the time. It was early in the morning. Except for you and your colleague Tom, only the patrolman on duty that night knew what happened to Andres."

"Tsk tsk." The white detective threw Brian's ID back to his feet: "A forensic assistant with justice, a keen sense of crime, hates evil, and rushes ahead of the police to kill the murderer. What a hot and bloodthirsty forensic material.

It's a pity that you met it."

"Are you done?"

A low and hoarse voice came from under Brian's lowered head.

The white detective was stunned.

What?

He subconsciously looked towards Brian's position, but met a pair of bloodshot eyes.

A sense of trembling surged into his heart.

The next moment.

The ground was dusty.

A shadow instantly appeared in front of the white detective, with both hands like axes, raised high, and smashed down heavily with a whistling sound.

There was a crisp sound.

The white detective, who weighed more than 180 pounds, tilted his head, his eyes widened, and his body fell to the ground weakly.

Brian panted, looked at the other party's eyes that were not closed, and a ferocious smile appeared at the corner of his mouth: "After talking, you can go to die!"

The other party was right.

There was no one around here.

He now had a lot of time to deal with the other party's body.

Sorry, it's a little late.

The main reason was that the computer screen was black for some reason, so I was not used to typing on my phone.