Autopsy of a Mind

He clammed up the moment questioning about the serial killing began. Sebastian smiled as he patiently coaxed, asking questions about the perpetrators and how Dean stalked them before finding them. 

It was a long discussion. He got lost in his obsessive thoughts, telling each and every detail of what had happened, gloating really. A stark contrast to what he had been when no one was in the room. The presence of others brought out the performer in him and he got the will to pretend that he was okay, that he was not scared about what his life would look like from now on. 

I sat on the other side, writing every word spoken. It was quite fascinating how Dean described himself as this vigilante who was helping women. I hadn't expected him to talk so much upfront, but he was spilling everything. 

I was almost suspicious that Sebastian had some superpower. 

"The cases were very confidential, where did you get the information from?" he asked after a long time. 

He clammed up as readily as he had spoken. After ten more minutes of Sebastian speaking to him and asking him to cooperate, he finally gave the first clue. 

"I got the files in the mail," he admitted at last. There was nothing else, he didn't know who had pulled the fire alarm or how they had found him, but they did send him. Dean took it as a sign from God and followed his mission to end those people. 

It all sounded like bullshit. It really did, but Sebastian said nothing. He finished the interview and came out looking perplexed. 

"Is he lying?" Detective Nash and I asked. 

"No, he didn't lie. He froze up and cried because we found out that he wasn't the sole mind behind the serial killings. I think he wanted to be credited for them if he ever got caught. And he knew he would someday get caught. He just didn't expect that we would find out something was amiss." He pursed his lips and thought for a minute. 

"Then what was the talk about a sign from God?" I asked. "That doesn't seem to be in his pattern. The reluctance to trust anyone in power and hatred for society because it doesn't uphold justice doesn't fall in line with the pattern of 'God made me do it.'" What the hell was this case? Why did it have to be so perplexing. 

I shook my head. "They might not have known about Dean's case," I told him. "The turn of someone's eyes, the expression in it, and how they react to situations gives away the criminal potential of someone who is unstable." 

Detective Nash protested quickly. "I don't think that is possible," he said quickly. 

"Believe me, people can understand. When you are drenched in darkness, you can see the darkness in the soul of others, too. It permeates their skin and their words. Detectives and academics have to study it, but others... we get the sense naturally." It wasn't a lie, I seemed to have this power stuffed into me. 

"It's a gut feeling. Just like we have gut feelings about a case or a suspect, people with contact to violent crimes can sense these things because of their prior experience." Sebastian shrugged. "We'll have to look into both of it. In that case, we will need to go through Dean's residence and shop. Maybe we will get a hint from the CCTV footage in the store or the list of customers he has met in the past."

"We'll have to date it back to at least a year. This will take forever," Detective Nash frowned. 

"Well, that is your job. We'll be off for now. Keep me updated about the test results." Sebastian waved him off and took me back to the car. 

"Do you think the case will be sent to court quickly?" I asked. Sebastian shook his head. "The courts are in a backtrack. He'll remain in confinement for a couple of months before the first trial... at least. But in the meantime, a public defender will be appointed to him."

"You don't think he will call a lawyer himself?" I asked. 

"He may. But we will have to see. The news will cover this as soon as the Chief of Police makes a statement. His family will be informed too. They might get someone to represent him."

"It's going to be hard for any lawyer to take up the case, really." I wondered out loud. "With the confession and the subsequent details about the stalking, making of the devices, and public execution, it will be hard to get him out on bail." 

"You're right. You did an excellent job, so we have a full-proof admission of guilt to provide at court." I scoffed. 

"There you go again." I rolled my eyes. "We'll be summoned in court, will we not?" I asked. 

"Yes, Detective Nash and you will be called in to give detailed statements about the interrogation whereas I will be called in as the appointed criminal psychologist who talked to the perpetrator after the confession. You'll also find a range of psychiatrists that will be brought in to prove my statements."

"Seems like a long process," I muttered. 

"They try to be meticulous so that nothing falls between the cracks. But sometimes it does." He shook his head in memory of something. I was about to ask when he started driving.

"I spend a lot of time in the courtroom, you know? It is part of the job." He shrugged. "But it is rewarding when someone you caught faces the punishment they deserve."

I smiled. "You're a good man," I told him. 

"Just doing my job," he said like a wise-crack. 

"Well, I am stunned to know you actually also want to help humanity and not just catch criminals to search through their brain," I smirked when I saw him raise his brow. 

"Well, you're not wrong. I did start out that way, watching people and trying to guess what was on their mind, but seeing one less person being killed or violated is also nice. It makes me feel better about myself," he admitted. 

"You don't need anything else to make you feel better about yourself, you know that right?" I teased.

"You shouldn't say that to the person who protects you from the monsters at night," he reprimanded me. 

"You don't really keep them away." Most of the time. Sebastian had a biological clock that never deviated. If he was on a case, he would spend all day working on it, but as soon as it was time, he would fall on the bed and sleep. He claimed to be a light sleeper, but no matter how much I called him, he didn't wake up. 

Or maybe it was because I imagined calling him in my lucid dreams.

Sebastian pouted. "Your session is tomorrow, am I right?" he asked. 

I nodded. "I delayed it a couple of days because of the case but it seems that it was unnecessary. We're done with it so I can speak to Dr Knight without any worries." I sighed in relief. 

"Why were you worried?" he asked, surprised. 

"The cases... they always leave me in a lurch. I wonder if I am a psychopath just like them or evil... and it weakens my progress. So, I wanted to have a clear mind when I went to Dr. Knight."

"You should have done the exact opposite. Use Dr. Knight as your throwing board. Throw whatever you think at him and make him see what really goes on in your mind. He is a talented man, but he's not omniscient. So, tell him so that he can help you better." His suggestion made sense. "You know you can take emergency appointments, right?" 

I raised my brow, making Sebastian chuckle.

"Well, I know where Dr. Knight lives. If you ever feel like you are drowning and even I can't pull you out, just say the word and I will drive you over to his place." He smirked. "You can choose your poison, too. He might give you meds to calm down or even some alcohol. You never know." Sebastian winked. 

"Alcohol sounds like a bag idea when I am having a crisis," I said suspiciously. 

"Well, then you can drink with him after your therapy is over." I closed my eye and felt a smile spreading across my face. I would very much like to get to know the fascinating Dr. Knight away from his office. He looked like a cuddly polar bear who could do no harm.