Cop: “Is this your jacket?” (Removing drugs from the pocket)
Baddie: “Nah. That’s not mine.”
Cop: “Whose is it then?”
Baddie: “I dunno. Never seen it before.”
Cop: (Looking inside the jacket) “It’s got your name on the tag.”
Baddie: “Oh… ok, you got me.” (Scratches head) “Dunno why Mum does that.”
I love a good confession. There’s nothing quite like tying off every loose end in an investigation when the offender conveniently fills in all the blanks.
I love a confession in every form. There’s the oxygen thieves who confess because they’re not bright enough to come up with a plausible story. Then there’s the remorseful crook who hands himself in at the front counter after an attack of the guilts, or when they know they’re snared anyway. Or the self-righteous crook who tells you every detail of their stealing/fraud/assault because they fully believe they are somehow justified in doing it. Their disbelief and outrage when they get charged is not quite so much fun, but by then unabashed truth has already been laid bare.
Getting some confessions are like pulling teeth – some are wobbly milk teeth that fall out with the slightest pressure; others are wisdom teeth right at the back that you have to prise and tug and wrench before they are ripped out, leaving a painful hole.
But my favourite confessions are the ones that start out as blatant bare-faced lies. The criminal, all wide-eyed and earnest, builds his lies. And over the course of the interview, as the baddie tries to mould his story around each proven fact as it is presented for comment, eventually the rough ends are polished off to reveal the beautiful shining confession. Almost makes you feel like contentedly laying back and smoking a cigarette afterwards.
So, what’s going through the baddie’s mind on the cusp of a confession? “The truth shall set you free,” we like to say. But it will more likely get you locked up. (No, that’s not right – it will be 3 ½ hours community service and a good behaviour bond…) How do they feel though, when they have told the truth and there’s nothing left to hide? They can face the consequences and move on. The slate is clean. Is the punishment of the crime worse than the guilt of trying to hide it? Often – yes. So, I recommend: Cleanse your soul. Confess.
Trust me. I’m a copper.