108th precinct, Queens.
Just across da rivah from Midtown.
Clemmy sits at the metal table in the bleakly lit room. The fluorescent tube above was in its death throes, and sending sickly flickers of wan light down onto the interrogation space. His handcuffed wrists were straining against the welded loop on the table top.
Ford was the first to speak.
"So... what were ya thinkin' when you picked up that ice pick and stabbed that radio DJ
27 times?"
"I wasn't thinking anything."
Decker spoke up.
Wasn't thinkin' nuttin', huh? Hey- we got us a real genius heah-"
"That's right. I had no thoughts at all. None. Only this-
earworm."
Decker stood up. He walked over to Clemmy, roughly shoved the perp's head to the side, and peered deeply into his right ear canal.
"I don't see nuttin-"
"Shuddup. It's not that kind of woim- So, kid- what was da earwoim?
Clemmy pointed upward to the embedded video just above this body of text. Ford & Decker looked up toward the ceiling. It was there-
hovering... just above the sick, flickering fluorescent light. Decker reached up- and pressed 'play.'
5 minutes later, Ford unlocked the handcuffs, returned Clemmy's belongings, and held the door of the precinct house as Clemmy exited.
Decker, completely confused, is stunned.
"Why TF didja let him go? We had him dead to rights!!!"
"I'm a fiscal conservative."
"So? What's dat gotta do wit anything?"
"I'm saving the state a lot of money."
"How do ya figya?"
"After the expense of booking, holding, feeding, housing, and providing a fair trial for dis jamoke, there's no jury in the country that would convict. Did ya HEAH dat crapola? Sheesh!"