A dry, heavily lined hand took a black-and-white photocopy from a uniformed district attorney's office employee. He turned the paper over in his hands, rubbed its edges between both palms, wiped his nose with one hand, then scrunched the muscles around his nostrils and squinted at its contents.
"Mental illness... aggression... violent behavior... inpatient treatment... Hahahahahahaha..."
He suddenly burst into manic laughter. The police officer beside him tapped on the window with a baton, but the laughter did not diminish. In the end, the officer did nothing.
He knew perfectly well that the man making all that noise was completely insane and seemed to have some unclear connection to the mob boss Falcone. Their evaluation reports had come out together. There was no need to invite trouble.
After a while, a lawyer in a sharp suit approached. He wore a broad smile when he reached the officer, but by the time he arrived at the bars, his face was full of impatience.
"The evaluation results are out, so hurry up and go." The lawyer gestured, then lowered his voice. "There are reporters outside. Don't forget what you promised us."
The grim-faced man said nothing. He merely crumpled the evaluation report into a paper ball and held it before him with both hands.
Soon, an officer came over and opened the cell door. The handcuffed man was quickly led out. The moment he stepped through the door, camera flashes completely replaced the daylight, bleaching his face pale.
He let the corners of his mouth droop and lowered his brows, looking old and exhausted as he limped toward the prisoner transport van. The vehicle slowly drove away in one direction.
He sat silently inside the transport van, continuously stroking the paper ball in his hands. There was no confusion or madness in