Grey clouds covered every piece of blue sky, it seemed. A cold wind blew hard on Edward's face as he stood at the cemetery, dressed in black, looking from afar at others dressed the same, for Derlick's funeral. Derlick's family was there. He recognized his parents and sister from the one time he happened to see them when he was visiting his dear friend. Some of his colleagues from the station came as well, though Edward wasn’t sure why. I never saw him talk to these guys before. Why are they here? Why are they pretending to give a fuck about his death?
Edward stood almost half a mile away from the funeral, knowing that as the one who killed Derlick, he didn’t have a rightful place there.
Derlick's mother read a long, endearing eulogy, telling how much of a good person he was, and how much she loved him and will miss him. By the end of that eulogy, she burst into a horrifying cry, eventually burying herself in the arms of her husband. She screamed and cried almost without end, drowning herself in a sea of her own tears. Others were crying as well. Edward looked at them and wished that he could cry like that as well for his friend, but he couldn’t. Not with the thought that Derlick hadn’t been much of a friend, let alone his sole partner to his values of justice. Not with the thought that Derlick tried to kill him in the end. Not with the thought that he was the one who had to pull the trigger on him eventually.
Edward's face was hollow, devoid of any emotion. Derlick's backstab was the last thing he needed after what happened at Roycen's place. On top of that, the only thing that could indict Blackburn was now gone. He felt like he didn’t belong at the funeral, knowing that he was the one who killed him, yet a part of him knew that he had to pay his last respects to the man. Even after what he did, Derlick had still been one of Edward's main pillars of support over the past year.
A street camera happened to catch footage of everything that went down that night. The footage saw Derlick pointing his gun at Edward that night, and then Edward pulling his gun and shooting Derlick through the head in a split second. Luckily for Edward, the law protected him from any murder charges, as the right to self-defense in Alataria stated that as soon as Derlick pointed that gun at Edward, and essentially put his life in danger, Edward could kill him within the boundaries of the law. Derlick probably knew that there might have been street cameras around. He must have counted on Dillard to back him up in any case, so he had nothing to fear.
Edward heard a car pulling over behind him. He turned and saw Jonah Dillard stepping out of a black car, dressed appropriately for the occasion, his short white hair combed and slightly damp. Edward's facial expression immediately changed to a wrathful one. How dare he?! He caused this entire mess to begin with! That bastard… how dare he come to Derlick's funeral?!
"Edward," Dillard greeted Edward, presenting his hand. Edward wanted to lash out at the man, yet he knew that for the moment he had to keep his senses and remain calm. If Dillard knows that I know about him, he'll have me dead before I know it.
"Sir," Edward simply said.
"How are you?"
"I'm…" Edward hesitated to go on. "I'll be okay," he said though he wasn’t quite sure of that himself.
"What a sad thing," he stood next to Edward, watching the funeral from a distance as well. "I heard you two were good friends."
"We were." Though I wouldn’t say that was the case at the very end.
"Do you have any idea why he pulled that gun on you?"
"I… honestly don’t know, sir." He mustn't know what Derlick told me.
"You mean, he just pulled on you without telling you why?"
"He…" Edward remembered Derlick's last words to him. "He just said that it'll hurt him more than it'll hurt me."
"I see," Dillard stroked his clean-shaven face. "It's a fucked up world we live in."
"It sure is, sir," Edward's said in a spiteful tone while clutching his hand into a fist. "What did you tell his family?"
"We told them that he was attacked by some gangsters and that we're still looking into it. Telling them that Derlick was killed by a fellow cop would be too devastating for them." Dillard showed no inch of remorse or guilt as he blatantly told Edward about the lie that he was taking part in. "We'll probably just pick one of the mob gangs and blame them. It'll give them closure and put this thing behind everyone."
"Don’t you find that unfair? I mean, if this was YOUR son, wouldn’t you want to know who actually killed him?"
Dillard made a long sigh before replying. "Edward, when it comes to the truth, there are two kinds of people: those who hear it, and those who handle it. We're the ones who handle the truth. We can do whatever we want with it. We can bend and twist it as we see fit. I know that it sounds wrong, but when you get to sit where I sit, you tend to see just how destructive and damaging the truth can be. Sometimes a little change in the story is necessary to make everyone a bit happier. That sobbing mother over there belong to the kind that hears the truth. The same truth that we give her."
"It's wrong. People should get to hear the truth as it is, no matter how damaging it can be."
Dillard sighed. "I wouldn’t expect you to understand, son." Edward felt infuriated upon being called 'son' by him. "Hopefully, one day you will, but until then, trust me when I tell you that people are often more hurt by truths than by lies."
Edward maintained his best not to jump at the Chief of Police and bash his head in. You're a fucking scumbag, Dillard. Roycen and his wife, as well as Derlick… their blood is on YOUR hands.
"Blackburn's trial is tomorrow," Dillard said.
"And he'll go free," Edward tried to find that glimpse of joy in Dillard's expression, yet the man didn’t give it away. "Forgive me for saying, sir, but… you don’t seem as devastated by that as I thought you would be."
"When you get as old and weary as I am, things don’t get to you the way they once did." Dillard drew a cigarette and lit it in his mouth. "Retirement is only a few years away, and with almost 40 years on the force, I can tell you that nothing changes in this place. If anything, it only gets worse." He inhaled his cigarette and blew the smoke away. "When Henrick Trife died we thought we might have finally ridden ourselves of his mob organization. We never anticipated his daughter's rise to power. Now things are worse than ever. You've got the Ferals running around, raping and killing whoever they want, Harley Nation keeps on expanding after migrating from America and setting up an outpost in Flintwood. And now… Charles Blackburn will escape prison time for his sins."
"My father cursed this country on his death bed. He cursed everyone, both gangsters and officers."
"Your father sounds like someone I would have enjoyed having a conversation with." Although he still had about half of the cigarette left to smoke, Dillard dropped it on the ground and put it out by stepping on it. "I'm sorry for your loss, Edward." He turned back to his car.
"You're not going to stand there with the others?"
"I think I've paid enough respects." He got into the car. Edward watched as it drove away, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. He stayed at the cemetery a while longer before leaving as well.
The next day had its own share of pain to deal with Edward. When he walked into the station, many eyes lingered on him. People whispered and stared at him shamelessly. They all know what happened. They know I killed Derlick. As if my personal image around here wasn’t bad enough…
But that wasn’t the worst part of it. Blackburn's trial resumed that day after its postponement was decided by Judge Hicken. As expected, with no evidence to convict the Deserter General, Blackburn was exonerated of all charges and was let go. Code Sanguinary was whole with its ringleader once again. Every newspaper and television channel reported it, and with the public now aware that it all happened because the key evidence went missing, many felt enraged with APD. The country was going wild. It's been a long time since a criminal of such stature was up for justice, and now the citizens' hope was gone.
With Blackburn's case closed, Edward was notified that he was being reassigned to work with Vernes on the Tri-Surgeon case that was still ongoing. Edward accepted his new focus without even caring. Everything that had happened had made him realize how much his father was right about everything. 'Rotten,' he always said to me. 'Rotten to the ground.' You were right, Dad. You sure were right. The soldiers of Code Sanguinary would probably celebrate their great leader's return tonight, while I'll be drinking by myself, wondering how much of this is MY fault. Had I not gone to pursue a way to take Blackburn down, this might never have happened.
On that day, Edward worked on whatever paperwork he received without giving off so much as a smile. The only thing that drove him to actually doing anything was the thought of a cold drink that waited for him at the end of the day.
Once the day was done, he took his things and left the station. When he walked through the exit doors, he felt relieved. He was glad that the day was over, and that he could finally drown his sorrows in the local bar, but before he could take more than a couple of steps away from the station he saw a black van driving by. The van stopped right in front of the station, and its passenger door slid open aside. He managed to recognize the camouflaged masks of Code Sanguinary inside as the men in the van threw 3 bodies out onto the road, right at the doorstep of APD's station. Edward reached for his gun, but the van drove away before he could do anything. People who walked by started screaming and panicking at the sight of the bodies and officers soon poured out of the station to deal with the situation.
Edward inched closer to take a look at the bodies. When he saw them, a sense of repulsion hit him. It was the bodies of Judge Hicken, the state attorney, and Vernes. The man who was supposed to judge Blackburn to a life in prison, the man who led the prosecution against him, and the man who led the investigation and supplied the incriminating evidence in the first place. All the men who almost brought Blackburn to his demise in prison now lay dead on the road, and the gruesome way they had been handled was the cherry on top. Hicken's hands were nailed to his eyes, the attorney's hands were nailed to his ears, and Vernes' hands were nailed to his mouth. This was Blackburn's way of saying: "This is what happens to those who decide to fuck with me. This is your justice. There is no justice."
