Luke opened the window and looked at the hospital entrance. "There are a lot of reporters outside. I guess they're here to interview you. No, they won't see you; more accurately, they've come to interview me.

This shooting has caused quite a stir, and we'll definitely need to hold a press conference to explain things to the public. What do you think I should say?"

"That's your business. If you're capable, investigate it yourself."

"We've already investigated what needed to be investigated, and we've captured Carl Smith and Boqi Camela. They've already admitted to hiring you for the shooting at Roger's Supermarket.

Where did you put the money you received?

Thirty thousand US Dollars, that's probably what you were hired for, right?

Is it worth killing someone for that little money?

This is the meaning and value of your life, to become a failed assassin?"

Brown Bryant snorted, "A clumsy provocation. I'm not one of those brainless gorillas; I won't be so easily tricked into talking by you."

Luke nodded, "Hm, you're smart, but smart people are in the minority. I'll tell those reporters about the thirty thousand US Dollars in hiring fees you received.

Those reporters will report it truthfully. In the eyes of the public, you're just a poor wretch who killed for thirty thousand US Dollars.

The real assassins will also look down on you, refusing to associate with you, because you're so cheap.

Oh, and how about the Proud Boys organization? What will they think? What did you tell them?

Do they believe you, or do they believe the police investigation? How will they see you in the future?

A hero?

Or a coward?"

"Stop it." Brown Bryant suddenly interrupted Luke, showing an angry expression. "I can tell you everything, but you can't slander me anymore. I didn't do it for the money—no, definitely not.

Luke thought to himself, indeed, at seventeen or eighteen years old, you care about your image. He cares about what others think of him, wants the approval of the Proud Boys, wants the people in this organization to know he fights for faith, not for the paltry thirty thousand US Dollars.

Luke followed up, "OK, then tell me, what was it for?"

Brown Bryant raised his voice, "God made me do it! All gorillas should die; they're defective products of evolution, and now they've ended up above us. I really can't understand what has happened to this world?"

Luke was glad he had the foresight not to let Little Black come, otherwise, Little Black might have impulsively beaten the guy up.

Jackson said, "Hey, kid, you're too extreme. There are good and bad people in every race, people who excel and people who are ordinary; you can't generalize. We're all Americans and shouldn't be divided by race."

"Is it you talking or me, huh?" Brown Bryant glared at Jackson, dissatisfied. "I hate it when people lecture me, so you'd better shut up when I'm talking."

Jackson "..."

Luke had no intention of backing Jackson up. He too disliked being lectured.

Moreover, this kid has already maxed out his charges. The police and the law have little deterrence over him. Luke could only provoke him by what he cares about to make progress in the interrogation.

Luke said, "Describe the process of how you, Carl Smith, and Boqi Camela planned the shooting.

Brown Bryant slowly spoke, "Carl Smith was my guide. He brought me into the Proud Boys organization.

I thought well of him. One day, he found me, said he wanted to buy me a drink, and then talked about this incident.

I never met Boqi Camela, only had contact with Carl Smith. Carl Smith did give me thirty thousand US Dollars and provided me with equipment and a car, but I shot and killed at Roger's Supermarket not for the thirty thousand US Dollars but because I hate black people.

They deserve to die."

"When Carl Smith found you, how did he say it? Did he ask you to kill at Roger's Supermarket, or just to cause trouble by firing in the air?"

"He didn't ask me to kill people, only to cause trouble at Roger's Supermarket. I changed the plan myself. Because of this incident, the two of us even had a big argument. He's just a coward; I misjudged him.

This coward isn't fit to be my guide."

This is consistent with Carl Smith's statement. Luke continued to ask, "Why do you hate black people so much? I'm asking about you, not God, so don't use God as an excuse. I want to know your thoughts."

Brown Bryant showed a hint of self-mockery, "Look at me. What kind of person do you think I am?"

Luke scrutinized for a moment, "A white youth with ideas, but a bit extreme in his view of things."

"You're not wrong, I am white, but I have a black surname, Bryant.

I hate this surname, but I am powerless to change it.

I live in a black community, go to school with a black name. Everything around me is related to black people, and I seem out of place.

Those bastards mock me and look down on me every single day.

'Hey, look, there's a disgusting white guy here.'

'Why would this white pig come to the black turf? I just want to beat him up.'

'Because his dad is black! Haha...'

I've heard such words too many times, every single day. Aren't they supposed to die because of this?"

Luke frowned, "So, you didn't kill impulsively; you've had similar thoughts for a long time?"

"That's right. The idea has been in my head for a very, very long time. I've rehearsed it countless times.

That day was my first time killing, but I wasn't uncomfortable at all.

Not only do I not regret it, but I also feel much more at ease.

They can never bully me again!"

Luke thought of the drug dealer they had apprehended earlier, "Do you know Darcy Jordan?"

"Yes, that bastard hit me once. He thought he was awesome, but he's just black trash, relying on the little brothers around him. Otherwise, he wouldn't dare mess with me.

What's that bastard's situation now?"

"Caught for drug dealing."

"Haha..." Brown Bryant laughed, "Doesn't he feel grateful to me?"

"Yes, he can't wait to send you to meet God."

"Haha..." Brown Bryant laughed even more happily.

Luke glanced at his notebook and asked the next question, "Where did the equipment for your attack on Luther King Third Middle School yesterday come from?"

"Bought it with that thirty thousand dollars.

That's also why I took that money. I needed more equipment and firearms."

"Where did you buy it from? Through whose connection?"

Brown Bryant turned his head to the side, "I've said enough. The rest of it is for you to investigate yourselves."

Luke probed, "Did you get your firearms and equipment through the Proud Boys?"

"No."

"In these two shooting incidents, did the Proud Boys provide you with any help?"

"No. Today's conversation is over, I don't want to answer any more questions." Brown Bryant closed his eyes.

Through the last two targeted questions, Luke noticed signs that the other party was lying.

This suggests that he likely obtained his firearms and vehicles through the Proud Boys.

When Luke asked again, Brown Bryant refused to answer further.

Luke could only temporarily conclude the interrogation.

Faced with a serious criminal like Brown Bryant, if he chooses not to cooperate, the police don't have many options.

As for the investigation into the Proud Boys, Luke is ready to hand it over to the Anti-Gang and Anti-Drug Department. He can't be so busy that he's on his feet all day while Jones and David watch the fun.

By capturing Brown Bryant with the Robbery and Murder Department, he has already gained attention, and there's no need to claim all the credit and work thanklessly.

Moreover, through the conversation earlier, the causes and consequences of the case are already basically clear.

The direct cause of the case was the conflict of interest between the owner of Carmela Supermarket and Roger's Supermarket.

The root cause was that Brown Bryant grew up in an environment predominantly composed of black people, causing him significant psychological impact and distortion, harboring strong hatred and vengeance against black people.

Even if Carl Smith had not hired him to cause trouble at Roger's Supermarket, he might have killed in the future because of other incidents, even for something minor and unnoticeable.

He is essentially an unstable bomb.