"Spencer, the answer is no. The answer was no. The answer will always be no. He has not committed any crimes and so therefore I cannot arrest him," Lassiter explained as patiently as he could while picking sadly at his salad.
They were all sitting in a booth at alocal restaurant having lunch though Spencer and Guster were too busy glaring at a man a few tables away from them to pay attention to their food.
"Pretty please?" Spencer begged.
"No."
"With sugar on top?"
"No!"
"And a cherry?" Guster added.
"Well, if there's a cherry on top... then, of course," Lassiter said dryly.
"Really?" Spencer asked.
"No!"
"He may not have broken any laws, but his very existence is a crime against god and all of humankind," Spencer tried to explain.
"That's a true fact," Guster added in support.
"Just bring him into the station. We'll get a confession out of him," Spencer promised.
"A confession of what?" Lassiter asked.
"That he is, in fact, the spawn of Satan! I'm a psychic. I know these things."
"This is the last time I let you two sit at the big kids table," Lassiter sighed.
"Fine, but fifty years from now when all the world's cities are rubble and the rivers are running with blood and the poor remaining suffering souls are huddling together for warmth, all the poor souls will be thinking the same thing. Do you know what that is Lassie?" Spencer demanded.
"I'm sure I don't want to know, but you're going to tell me anyway," Lassiter said with a resigned sigh.
"Yes, I will. They will be thinking if only that foolish Detective Lassiter had taken the opportunity while he had it. He could have arrested the most evil thing ever to walk the earth, but he let the silly fact that he wasn't actually breaking any laws get in the way. They will mark this day on their calendar and weep at its anniversary. It will be know as the day Detective Lassiter could have saved the world by arresting Chad Michael Murray, but didn't because he's a big party pooper."
"Spencer..." Lassiter warned.
"Or possibly something shorter. That's really hard to say."
Part III
They were all sitting in a booth at alocal restaurant having lunch though Spencer and Guster were too busy glaring at a man a few tables away from them to pay attention to their food.
"Pretty please?" Spencer begged.
"No."
"With sugar on top?"
"No!"
"And a cherry?" Guster added.
"Well, if there's a cherry on top... then, of course," Lassiter said dryly.
"Really?" Spencer asked.
"No!"
"He may not have broken any laws, but his very existence is a crime against god and all of humankind," Spencer tried to explain.
"That's a true fact," Guster added in support.
"Just bring him into the station. We'll get a confession out of him," Spencer promised.
"A confession of what?" Lassiter asked.
"That he is, in fact, the spawn of Satan! I'm a psychic. I know these things."
"This is the last time I let you two sit at the big kids table," Lassiter sighed.
"Fine, but fifty years from now when all the world's cities are rubble and the rivers are running with blood and the poor remaining suffering souls are huddling together for warmth, all the poor souls will be thinking the same thing. Do you know what that is Lassie?" Spencer demanded.
"I'm sure I don't want to know, but you're going to tell me anyway," Lassiter said with a resigned sigh.
"Yes, I will. They will be thinking if only that foolish Detective Lassiter had taken the opportunity while he had it. He could have arrested the most evil thing ever to walk the earth, but he let the silly fact that he wasn't actually breaking any laws get in the way. They will mark this day on their calendar and weep at its anniversary. It will be know as the day Detective Lassiter could have saved the world by arresting Chad Michael Murray, but didn't because he's a big party pooper."
"Spencer..." Lassiter warned.
"Or possibly something shorter. That's really hard to say."