Dear Detective Thatcher,
I write in response to your request for more information regarding the incident at Central Park on Monday the 12th of May, in which I called an ambulance in response to both spousal abuse and stab wounds. As you are no doubt aware, the victims were not married, several of the wounds were clearly animal inflicted and both recieved no less than 12 stab wounds before the police arrived. I do apologize – I’m afraid I underestimated their endurance and the zeal of Killer.
At approixmately 7:22am on the day in question, I was on my morning jog with my dog, Killer. The voices had told me that today was a good day to carry my Ka-Bar short fighting knife (the roughly 5in blade you found as the assault weapon) and I didn’t really question them. At that time, I noticed a couple having a heated argument on a bench. As I passed, the female (Miss Jones) proceeded to punch her boyfriend, screaming about how he was a “lieing sack of shit.” His response was to roar about how she was “the most hypocritical whore [he had] ever seen.” The two began to punch and kick at each other, clearly enraged.
Naturally I assumed they were about to have sex in the park. As you know, such displays are illegal to perform in public, so I pulled out my phone and called the police, ready to report public sex and six stab wounds. As the phone began to ring, I noticed that while the two were punching each other like madmen, their clothes remained on, so I changed my assumption from ‘public sex’ to ‘spousal abuse’. You have the call on record, so I won’t go into how that went.
When I hung up the couple noticed me for the first time. I hurried while I still had the element of surprise and stabbed the woman in the stomach, as she seemed to me to be the instigator of the brawl. As she fell and heaved I then stabbed her legs in order to ensure she would not leave before the police arrived.
Mr.Wilson, on the other hand, knew I was coming at that point and proceeded to tackle me to the ground. I maintained my grip on my knife, however, so I was able to stab him in the ribcage. Unfortunately, this is when I recieved my most grevious facial injury as his response was to punch me. Naturally I sliced his face up as well. Eye for an eye and all that.
Killer, sadly, had chosen to renact the torture I performed on him as a puppy to Miss Jones. I apologize to her for the inconvenience of the torn skin and infected bites and will gladly cover her hospital bills for both, as well as properly punish Killer by allowing her to bite and tear his skin.
I then stabbed Mr.Wilsons’ legs so he could not leave either (I am nothing if not an equal opportunist), and waited for the police to arrive. The officers you sent to the scene appeared to be rookies, as one of them hurled and the other proceeded to scream that I was a maniac. Honestly: a maniac! Do you not teach your officers how to deal with civilians?
My apologies, sir, I mean no disrespect, it simply strikes me as odd they would know so little about proper police conduct.
Anyway, I believe that accounts for all of their injuries.
Have a nice day,
Sarkhan Manson
PS. It’s possible the legal name change hasn’t gone through yet. If so, please be aware that Charles Blonde was my birth name.
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Just to be perfectly clear this is a work of fiction. I did not actually stab anybody. If there is a Detective Thatcher, I have never met him.
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