[Angela]

When I watched the live newscast that night I knew something was wrong. To be precise, I knew Patrick was drunk. His face, below the thick layer of foundation I knew he hated, was red and shining with sweat. His usually clear blue eyes were clouded, glazed, unfocused. He had a goofy grin on his face, the most obvious signs of a drunken Patrick.

It wasn't when he really started talking that I knew something was very, very wrong.

When I heard the interview question I knew everything. I could see, in my mind, how they seemingly invited him to a feast, just to get him drunk and talk about Red John. Because he was the famous psychic celebrity who could read minds. Who could hypnotize you. Who was the huge ray of hope for the CBI to catch Red John. They didn't care that he had a family, he had a wife, a daughter, a family for him to take care of. No, they didn't. They only cared Red John was caught. Because they were the media.

Then came the most terrifyingly reckless statement I ever heard leave from Patrick's mouth.

"Red John, no, he's just another killer… He doesn't do the dirty work himself… He's an ugly, tormented little man, a lonely soul, sad, very sad." He rubbed his eyes and continued. "He's a coward, you see! YOU HEAR THAT, RED JOHN? YOU ARE A COWARD!" At that point of time I knew he had lost it. His eyes had a cold fury raging in the blue depths, his face was flushed and the single vein popped out on his tomato-red neck. The interviewers looked rather alarmed, trying feverishly to calm him down. "He wont hurt you," Patrick continued in a crazed trance, "because he's a coward. He gets people to do the killing for him because he's scared of us. COWARD YOU'RE A FREAKING COWARD!"

Only he didn't say freaking.

Then the interviewer yelled for a commercial and Patrick's microphone was muted. I didn't know why didn't they silence him sooner. But then I never got how the media worked.

But one thing I was positive of, and we were in some serious dirt.