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When Chéri works until midnight, I like to sit down and watch a tv channel called Investigation which, you won’t be surprised, mostly presents shows about criminal investigations (I know, shocker!).

I don’t always listen closely, because after a while, you get the main patern… Someone gets found dead, the police look for the name of the victim. They go to make a promise to the mother that they’ll do everything they can to find the murderer, run in circles for a while. Then, surprise! They get lucky, find a significant clue, or a witness, or someone who claims to know a witness, or someone who heard about someone who might know a witness. They frame the suspect, and run back to the mourning mother to tell her ”We got him!”

Case closed. Run the credits…

Next!

It is ALWAYS the worst crime they have ever witnessed.

Anyway… Yesterday, I was loosely watching Investigation when something caught my eye.

To make a long story short, the Crips (a major gang in the States) were holding a party in the neighbourhoods’ bar. A couple of Bloods members (their enemies, but I have a feeling you had guessed that) decided to show up, run to the stage and wave their red bandanas in the face of the already pretty drunk guests.

Surprisingly, the Crips didn’t appreciate the gesture, and suddenly everybody was (kung fu) fighting… Someone got shot and died (my focus was starting to fade here).

– Insert the parts about consoling the mother and the vague investigation here. –

Fast forward to the witness sitting at the police station, knowing who had done what. The officers prepare a photo lineup, print it and come back to the interrogation room, where the young lady is sipping on a Coke. Content with themselves, they push the lineup on the table, right under her nose.

– So! Can you point out the shooter amongst these guys? (See above picture)

I was waiting for the woman to say ”You know what, all these blurry gentlemen really look familiar, but I think I’ll go with Number 2!”

If that’s not directing a witness, I don’t know what would be.

Oh, and yes, she did pick Mr Number 2. Who will now spend a good part of his life in prison.

Just because he wasn’t blurry.

Tough luck, Number 2!