Cameron Dasari/logs/080812 Sins part one

When Cameron arrives and introduces himself to one of the secretaries, his ID is scanned and then he's politely shown to a waiting area. He doesn't have to wait long; Jacy arrives within a few minutes, walking briskly in, her shiny badge dangling around her neck on a chain. "Mr Dasari?" She pronounces it 'Da-Sari', which may or may not be correct. "I'm Detective Jacy." A bright smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you for coming to see us. I'm sure we don't detain you long." Bright platitudes to put Cameron at his ease as she ushers him down a corridor to an interview room. Now, there are interview rooms at DAS HQ that are windowless, claustrophobic, concrete-walled monstrosities with drains on the floor to hose down the mess after an 'interrogation'. But this isn't one of them; it's a pleasantly furnished room, with a carpeted floor and nice furniture, even a somewhat anodyne picture of a sunset on the wall. But, still, screwed to the wall, not hung on a hook. Still, it's the nice interrogation room, which must be promising.

Cameron, like a good sport, has checked in his legally licensed 45 caliber pistol with the staff at the security checkpoint, and has come to Londinium dressed professionally in a crisp, expensive white shirt and tie. When she greets him, he flashes a broad, charming grin in return and falls into line behind her. "You're welcome, Detective. My family's originally from Londinium so I was able to visit a restaurant I hadn't been to in quite some time before coming over. It's been a charm of a visit so far." He replies, slipping past her into the interrogation room. He gives the decor a once over and moves to the center of the room, turning to face her with his hands in his pockets. "I'll admit I was a little surprised to hear from you. I can't honestly think of any crimes that I've witnessed, but I still pay taxes and royalties to the Commonwealth and, you know, like the law requires I'll answer a summon as it's needed."

"I appreciate your assistance," Jacy tells him honestly, and motions him to a seat on one side of the table as she takes a seat across from him. There's no distinction between the different sides, which simply tells you that the room must have hidden cameras everywhere. When everyone's settled, Cameron seated or not, Jacy tilts her head and begins. "Do you know a man called Kwei-tze Po?" She's taken out her PDA, and brushing her fingers over the tactile controls, the face of Po appears suddenly floating in the air, rotating slightly. It's a shot taken when he was dead, the eyes so obviously unfocussed and thus somewhat creepy; the effect must be deliberate, for surely the Alliance has holos of Po from his previous convictions.

Cameron takes a seat, settling as comfortably as he can despite the awkwardness of the situation. One can never be //too// comfortable in an interview in the DAS headquarters, and it shows. As he sits, he scratches the side of her head and listens to her question. "Po?" He laughs softly. "Yeah, I know Po from a long time ago. He's was kind of the runt type, always trying a little too hard for his own good. What's he gotten himself into thi--" He starts, chuckling softly, but the laugh is suddenly cut off by the image before him. Cameron gazes at the photo of the deceased with a frown on his face. "Oh bloody..." He flattens his lips. "When did that happen?"

Jacy's smile has evaporated from her face. "Last week," she tells him quietly, watching his expression closely. "He was found dead in an alley on Persephone. I was hoping that you could tell me a little more about him, and your connection with him." The morbid visage continues to rotate slowly in mid-air until Jacy's fingers make it vanish abruptly. Easy come, easy go.

Cameron lifts his head to the ceiling and exhales, letting out a pensive breath. Reaching to scratch the back of his head, he looks back to Jacy, eyes locked onto hers. "Po and I used to run in the same circles, a //long// time ago. Opium dens, topless bars, stuff like that. I met him through his brother who was that gateway guy that brings people in as customers. I don't do that stuff anymore, though. We had some crazy times..." Cameron frowns, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. "...but he stayed and I didn't."

"When did you last have contact with him?" Jacy asks after a short pause, not blinking at the mention of topless bars or opium dens. Clearly she's memorized Cameron's own rap sheet. She's not making notes, but it would be naive to believe that this interview isn't being taped the snot out of by all manner of concealed cameras and microphones.

"Two years ago." Cameron replies, matching Jacy's stare. A muscle in his cheek twitches and he tilts his head just a slight bit, enough to let her know that he's keenly aware that he's being watched. "Two years ago I went to his apartment looking for some Dragon. He sold it to me. It was the last time I did a run." He pauses, lifting an eyebrow. "So this isn't about a crime I might have witnessed, is it?"

"Two years ago," Jacy repeats. She smiles thinly. "So how do you explain a receipt from the Captain's Retreat on Persephone, with your thumbprint on it, in Po's possession after he was found dead? You were in the Captain's Retreat a little more recently than two years ago, Mr Dasari." Her voice is level and calm, but there's an intensity in her eyes. She hasn't answered Cameron's question, and doesn't look like she will answer it.

"I've been in the Captain's Retreat multiple times over for months, Detective, they water their drinks down far less than the Dregs." He replies, eyebrow quirking. His lips part and he gives a slow shake of his head. "That doesn't make any sense though, because I never saw Po at the Retreat. At least if I did, I'm sure he would have said hi. We were on good terms." He sighs and folds his arms across his chest, chewing the inside of his lip. "I don't know about any sort of receipt."

"You were at the Captain's Retreat," Jacy insists, emphasizing her point, "and a dead man has your receipt in his pocket. You see where this is leading me, Mr Dasari?" she says mildly. "Here's what I think happened. I think you got a sudden craving for some more opium, and searched out your old friend and dealer Kwei-tze Po to score a baggy or two. You bought him drinks at the Captain's Retreat. He named a price that you thought was too high...maybe being old friends didn't count for so much now." She smiles thinly. "You took him down the alleyway behind Gruber's, you fought, you shot him, you panicked and ran off, but you forgot about the receipt." She pauses, and glances at her PDA. "You checked in a .45 here. Want to bet it's not the murder weapon?" She pauses, and then adds amiably, "Want to bet a murder charge on it?"

The color drains from Cameron Dasari's face as Jacy unravels the evidence. He lowers his brow and lowers his jaw, giving her a disagreeing shake of her head. With every syllable, the conversation that they're having gets worse and worse, until Cameron no longer wants to be a part of it. Frowning, looks her dead in the eye. "Yeah, I'll bet a murder charge on it. This is bloody crazy, Detective, there's no way I did any of that. I didn't do //any// of those things, and I don't care who killed Po, at this point, but some bogus receipt with my name on it doesn't match to me shooting the man dead. There's //plenty// of forty-fives, but I assure you that the one I checked in didn't shoot Po." He looks to the side, shaking his head off into the distance. He closes his eyes and sighs. "This is crazy."

Jacy is impassive at his argument, meeting his gaze, studying him writhing before her like a butterfly impaled on a pin. She doesn't take her gaze off him, but picks up her comm unit and speaks into it. "This is Detective Jacy. A Mr Dasari checked in a .45 about fifteen minutes ago...yes, he's with me now. Do me a favor and run it down to Ballistics and check it out. I'll bet you a bottle of whisky that it was used in the Po murder on Persephone. And make it a rush job, please?" A faint smile as she listens to the reply, then clicks off, breaking the connection. She sets the comm unit on the table before her and offers mildly to Cameron, "If I were you, I'd get a good lawyer."

Cameron rises from his chair and slowly paces over to the wall, bitterly shaking his head. The cameras later with pick him up rolling his eyes and guffawing in silence while he wades through the tension. He turns and slowly walks past the table again, settling into a slow, frustrated pace. "Detective..." Cameron replies slowly, making sure his every word in his thick, Londinian accent is voiced properly. "...I have had that weapon on me every waking hour of the day for months, and rarely let it out of my sight. I'm afraid you're about to lose a bottle of whisky, which is a shame for you. I don't know exactly how to say this but..." He looks to her, giving her his best look of concern. "I don't have many enemies, but I know that I didn't kill Po. That receipt? I don't know how he got it but if that's the best evidence that you've got..." He shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm going to be getting a lawyer. This is all just a misunderstanding."

Jacy likewise rises, lazily. It's all an act, of course, she's new at this game and she's making it up as she goes along, but to give her credit she's not doing badly. "We're going to have to keep your .45. You already have the receipt for it. Interview suspended at..oh-eight-eighteen." A thin, watery smile as she deliberately twists what he's just said; "A man is dead, Mr Dasari. That's one helluva misunderstanding." Then she walks over to the door, pressing her palm to the biometrics reader and waiting for the lock to click unlocked. She opens the door and gestures for him to go first. "We'll be checking you out, Mr Dasari. We'd appreciate it if you would notify us whenever you go off-planet." And, should Dasari take any public shuttles, he'll no doubt find himself being pulled aside for 'enhanced searches' and 'identification verifications' before he's allowed to travel, just to remind him that he's now most definitely on a watch-list.