"What? I'm just saying, we already got the guy. DNA evidence, motive, opportunity—it's a slam dunk. But apparently that's not good enough for some people." He looked pointedly atMaria, then back to Kari. "So they call in the cavalry. Or should I say the tribe?"
This was the part of Phoenix PD Kari hadn't missed—the casual racism disguised as jokes, the resentment toward anyone who didn't fit the mold. She'd dealt with it for years, had developed a thick skin out of necessity. But now, after two years away, after reconnecting with her heritage and her grandmother's teachings, it hit differently.
She could walk away. Should walk away. But Maria needed her help, and more importantly, Thomas Hatathli deserved better than to be railroaded by cops too lazy or too politically motivated to look past the obvious.
"The DNA evidence is questionable," Kari said evenly. "And you know it."
"Hair samples from both crime scenes. That's not questionable, that's forensics." Gagne took a long pull from his beer. "Look, I get it. Hatathli's one of yours, indigenous activist fighting the good fight. But he made public threats against both victims, he had clear motive, and his DNA puts him at the scenes. Sometimes the obvious answer is the right answer."
"Sometimes it's the planted answer," Kari said.
Gagne's smirk faded. "You calling this department corrupt?"
"So you assume I'm blaming the PD." Kari met his gaze evenly. "Why would that be?"
Gagne's face reddened, but before he could respond, another detective joined them—Steve Yang, whom Kari remembered as being fair but by-the-book.
"What's going on here?"
"Detective Blackhorse is suggesting the evidence was planted," Gagne said, his voice tight.
"I'm saying the evidence pattern is suspicious," Kari corrected. "Too convenient, too clean. Someone wanted Hatathli to take the fall."
"That's a hell of an accusation." Yang's tone was measured, but his eyes had sharpened. "You got proof to back that up?"
Kari met his gaze. "Do you have proof he's guilty beyond the planted evidence?"
"It's not planted—" Gagne started.
"A few hair samples at each scene. No fingerprints, no fibers from his clothing, no defensive wounds on the victims, no witnesses placing him anywhere near either location." Kari kept her voice steady, factual. "Just enough DNA to point to him, but not enough to suggest he actually committed the murders. That's not a slam dunk. That's a setup."
"Shit on a stick," Gagne said. "Two days back in town and you're already causing problems. Some things never change."
"Ray, that's enough." Maria's voice had hardened. "Kari's here at my request, and she's raising legitimate questions about the evidence. Questions we should be asking ourselves instead of just accepting the easy narrative."
"The easy narrative?" Gagne stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "I guess it is easy to believe that an environmental lawyer who made public threats against two victims is guilty when his DNA shows up at both murder scenes. But that doesn't make it wrong. And pushing an overly-complicated narrative—one that requires us to believe in some vast conspiracy—doesn't make you right."
More detectives had gathered now, drawn by the sound of an approaching argument. Kari recognized a few faces—Jenkins, who'd been decent to her; Morales, who'd helped her on a tough case her first year in homicide; Patterson, who'd made her probationary period hell with constant skepticism and undermining comments. They formed a loose semicircle around the booth.
This was beginning to feel a bit like an interrogation.
"Look," Jenkins said, his tone conciliatory, "we all want to get this right. But there's a lot of pressure from upstairs to close this case. The Sunset Ridge project is already on hold because of the petroglyph controversy. Now with these murders, the developers are threatening to pull out completely. The city's looking at millions in lost revenue, hundreds of jobs that won't materialize."
"And that's our problem how?" Maria asked.
"It's our problem when the chief is getting calls from the mayor's office, when the mayor's getting calls from the development company, when everyone with influence is asking why we haven't charged someone when we have DNA evidence." Jenkins shrugged. "I'm just saying, there's context here beyond the investigation."
"Context like political pressure to pin this on someone whether they're guilty or not," Kari said.
"Nobody's saying that," Morales interjected. "But we've got a case that points to Hatathli. Maybe it's not perfect, maybe there are questions, but when is evidence ever perfect? We work with what we have, and what we have points in one direction."
Kari looked around at the assembled detectives, seeing various degrees of certainty and doubt in their expressions. Some seemed to genuinely believe Hatathli was guilty. Others seemed less convinced but unwilling to push back against the pressure from above. And a few—like Gagne—simply didn't care as long as the case closed and the department looked competent.
This was what she'd walked away from. Not just the job, but the compromises, the political calculations that crept into investigations until finding the truth became secondary to finding a convenient answer.
"Occam's Razor," Gagne said. "The simplest explanation is usually right."
"Occam's Razor doesn't account for framing," Maria said.
