“You may be right,” said Donny. “And I assume the violence of the prior regime is why you were in the courtroom today. If you are looking for some of the information I have pulled together about these atrocities, I’d love to share it with you, and I bet you have some information I don’t. With your investigative resources, we could really up our game, maybe even expand the scope.”

They looked at the boxes piled up around the room, all labeled in black marker with the name of the case, the year in which the files were compiled, and other identifying scribbles. Then they looked at each other before Abboud looked back at Donny and spoke.

“Yes, well, that is an intriguing project, and one that may be of interest to our commissioners, but that is not what we wish to speak with you about.”

“Oh,” said Donny.

“We are investigating the death of President Mack.”

Donny sat back, trying to process that.

“We have learned you were on the team of lawyers that defended him after his arrest by the new government.”

“Calling them a government is generous,” said Donny. “And I only helped with the sentencing.” Admitting that out loud still made him blush with shame, even as he knew he had done the right thing.

“We understand,” said Abboud. “Very honorable of you, to fight against the death penalty even when the defendant is someone who has killed your friends.”

“Tell that to my other friends,” said Donny. He didn’t mention that he had also lost family to the regime. “That’s why they kicked me out of New Orleans.”

“Well, he got the death penalty anyway,” said Blonk.

“No,” said Donny. “He got life. Several life sentences, in fact. We won that. But then he was murdered.”

“He was assassinated,” said Blonk. “When he was to be delivered into our agency’s custody to be prosecuted for his crimes against humanity.”

“So I heard,” said Donny. “And I really wish that hadn’t happened. Because we needed that trial. Our own prosecution was too hamstrung by our broken politics, and people’s desire to ‘move forward.’”

“Is that why you helped them kill him?” said Abboud.

“What?” said Donny.

He looked at them. You could see they meant it.

“That’s nuttier than French socialists in Dallas,” he said.

Abboud smiled.

“Maybe even nuttier than these people who say he’s still alive, tanning on some faraway beach,” added Donny. “Waiting for his comeback. I saw them kill him, just like you did. And when it happened, I was a thousand miles away in Houston, working. What are you suggesting?”