They all paced left and right glancing disgusted looks at me. Like it was my fault. That i had control over it. but I didn't. It wasn't my fault. As i sat there in the interview room it smelt like: coffee, sweat and cigarettes and everyone seemed wary. I began to gaze around the small circular square. I was so consumed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the detective enter and introduce himself. my gaze wondered to him. he was tall and solid and had the face of a high school teacher: deep set eyes, large bushy caterpillar eyebrows, and a permanent expression of furrowed concern. As I studied him I saw a worn out gray badge attached to his suit. It read D.T. Phillip James. For all I knew he could be a famous detective like Sherlock Holmes, but for now he was just another smart and tough detective in the Los Angeles Police Department. He'd differed  from the others that had tried to crack me. And had appeared not to make up his mind about me or the circumstances. He happened to be the first person who didn't treat me like I was lying. He pleasantly smiled at me. And for the first time in a while I smiled.