BEN


Ben Green was called from his cell for questioning.  “Growing up in that house was hell,” he sighed.  “My dad only ever cared for that son of a gun, and all he had was spite for him as repayment.  If he’d had anywhere else to go, I’d have told him to leave years ago, but he ain’t got nothing to his name as it is.”  At the very least, Ben had an iron-clad alibi…he was only halfway through his sentence, so he wasn’t going anywhere near that garden any time soon.

When recounting his childhood in the home, he mentioned Tom’s sons in passing.  “They didn’t give me much thought until my dad brought home a little stray pup he’d found in town…I’d always wanted a dog, and those jerks were jealous.  They whined and cried about my pup until their daddy just couldn’t stand it any longer.  He always despised me, so he poisoned my pup…he died in agony while I just sat, cried, and watched.  Heartless, that man.”

Detectives also asked about the letter found in the mailbox.  “I was just checking up on my old man.  Like I said, he ain’t got nobody.  I have a pal on the outside who grew up ‘round that part of the county…he’s been good to Dad.  Checks in from time to time, gives him a little dough, grabs up some news from the outside world for me, that kind of thing.  I owe him big for all he’s done.”


Ben was then led back to his cell after questioning.