Into Darkness (Supernatural)

XXIII - Dead Wives, Killer Husbands, and Strippers

XXIII – Dead Wives, Killer Husbands, and Strippers

"Why does the PD keep sending you guys?" the man we're interviewing asks. He's clearly irritated. "I already said I don't want a lawyer."

"They're lining up the firing squad," Dean tells the man.

"I'm pleading guilty."

"Alright, look, you don't want us to represent you, that's fine. In fact it's probably not a bad idea, between you and me. We just wanna understand what happened, that's all."

"Mr. Benson," says Sam. "Please."

"What happened was, I killed my wife," says Mr. Benson. It's true; it's what landed him here with the police. It was a brutal murder. He's lucky I don't have my abilities, because I would have made him cease to exist. Violence against women, or anyone, is wrong. Especially his cruelness of beating her to death with something called a meat cleaver. "You wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me."

"A poor motive to kill your loving wife," I say coldly.

"Veronica, please," Sam cuts me off.

"Veronica" is my go-to alias on my first case. Yes, this is my first official case with the Winchesters. I finally got cleared to be out in the field. It's no seal-stopping, but it certainly doesn't disappoint.

Sam addresses Mr. Benson: "Now, when it happened how did you feel? Disoriented, out of control?"

"Like something possessed you to do it?" Dean adds.

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Mr. Benson insists. "I was crystal clear."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I don't know. I loved her. We were happy."

Then why would you do it? Why would you kill her if you loved her? Humans are mind-boggling, especially ones like Mr. Benson.

Dean puts some papers down on the table Mr. Benson sits at. "Nine G's. That's a hefty bill," he says to the guilty party.

"Where did you get that?"

"Doesn't matter. We have it. See, certain charges, ones you don't want the missus to know...they show up under shady names like 'M and C Entertainment'."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like dropping plastic at a nudie bar for instance."

"We just wanna know the truth, Mr. Benson," says Sam.

"Her name was Jasmine."

I bristle, Sam shoots me a look. "She was a stripper?"

"Dude, her name was Jasmine," says Dean.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," says Mr. Benson, "I don't like to go to strip bars. My buddy was having a bachelor party, and there she was."

"Jasmine," I say neutrally.

"She came right up to me. And...I dunno, she was just...perfect. Everything that I wanted."

"Well you pay enough and anybody will be anything," says Dean.

"It wasn't about the money. It wasn't even about the sex. It was...I dunno. I...I don't know what it was. It's hard to explain."