117 Professional Ethics (1/2)

How did one get so selfish? How did one think only of themselves when they had committed such heinous crimes against another person?

She noticed me much later than expected, only when I took a seat beside Sebastian. Her face twisted into a rage and she clenched her fist. Seeing how my eyes traveled down to see them, she quickly pulled them under the table in a manner of defense.

The stage was set. I knew that she was going to withhold as much information as she could so as to save herself.

”Your name please,” I asked, my voice level and calm. I was surprised that I could hold in my feelings. They almost overwhelmed me. First, it was the abuse and neglect of a child who had become a murderer and then the look on her face that insulted every mother on the planet, and dare I say me. She had no business being this carefree.

”I will tell you nothing,” she hissed at me.

”Why not?” I asked, my voice still calm.

”I don't know how you manipulated my daughter to say things against me, but she is lying!” she said once again. I tried my best to keep in the ticking of my jaw. I was very easily irritated with this woman.

”That is why we must talk to you and confirm what is real and what is not,” Sebastian interjected before I could formulate a reply. She turned to him with dreamy eyes and nodded.

”Thank you for understanding me. That girl is nothing but a manipulative bitch. She's been hell-bent on ruining my life since she was born.” She sighed as if her life was tragic.

”Can you start with your name? We will listen to every word you have to say,” Sebastian promised. I knew the tactic he was using. He was using her amour towards him to make everything into a confession. Like a sinner talking to the father in the church to absolve them. He was giving her a chance to confess and make known her side of the story so that she didn't look as bad as Carol had painted her out to be.

The age-old trick, just with a new twist.

”Grace Myers,” she said finally.

”And what is your age?” Sebastian asked. There was no point in me asking any questions as she would be affronted and rebel against anything I said or insinuated. Because I had interviewed Carol, I would have to sit in, but my presence was more of a hindrance.

I stared at the side of his face and wanted to kick his foot in irritation. So, the bad cop was my role.

”I am twenty-five-years old. I had my daughter when I was seventeen and got pregnant the year before.” She giggled nervously. ”The father was a popular soccer player in high school. We had a romp now and then and I ended up like a dumb teenager, pregnant and having to drop out of school to hide what I had done. My mother wasn't pleased. Thank god, they passed away soon and left the house to me.”

What an evil woman, thanking the heavens for her parent's demise.

”It must have been hard raising a girl on your own. Can you tell me what your usual routine looks like?” he asked.

She bit her lip as her eyes roamed over the room. She was cooking up a story that would be believable but from what she knew, nothing would absolve her of her crime.

”My usual day starts with me waking up and showering and then I make some food for the brat. Which she never eats, for some reason, and then I start work for the day.”

”Right, thank you... what do you make for breakfast or lunch or dinner?” he asked.

”I don't have much time because I work a lot, so I usually go with milk and bananas and bread.” Sebastian quietened down.

”Why don't you make anything else or ask someone to help out?” he asked.

”I don't have the money to,” she said. ”Would I be working so hard and taking care of a child alone if I had the money to get a babysitter?” she asked.

Sebastian kicked my chair. I knew it was my cue to speak up.