Fallen Angels: A Fictional Narrative

When he enters the McCann’s room, he notices that the children’s bedroom door was wide open. However, he states that upon hearing no noises, he left the apartment without physically looking inside of the children’s room. He later states that he did not notice whether there was a draft or whether the bedroom window was open. The fact that he volunteered to check on the children and his claim that he did not actually look in the room caused him to be viewed as a primary suspect by the local police

He, who arrived at the scene first, parked near the bank and leaped out from his vehicle scurrying through the bank’s parking lot. Sgt. Salazar detects and appears at the exterior security

“I want her to be safe.” Nick whispered. It wasn’t a lie, but Nick just had a horrible way of going at it. “She’s my friend.”

” Okay, well we will get you all fixed up, but just one more question, did you find the bullet?” I said, no sir. He replied,”okay.”

*The police arrived in minutes and found to Furman in the neighborhood, who was still carrying the murder weapon.*

“Police?” her mother asks with a worried look on her face. “You're not in trouble, are you?”

The officer was still seated, but returned punches, trying to get him away while he radioed for back-up. The man fled, but back-up units found him scaling a fence, trying to leave.

"Get out nice and slow and no one will get hurt." She instructs, shoving the gun in the middle of his back.

Cory rolled his eyes. For the last three days, everyone had been treating him like a delicate vase that would shatter if you breathed too hard. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees with his forearms. “Listen here, shrink, it wasn’t an accident, as you put it. I meant to shoot the guy. Plain and simple. He was coming at me, so I raised my gun --” here Cory motioned to the pistol lying on the desk between the two men, “ -- and put him on his back with a bullet between the eyes. There was nothing accidental about it.” Cory leaned back in the armchair, fingers tapping on the armrest.

The 20-year-old police officer, Jimeleta, had no connection, but she cared for her best (and only) friend, Zacethine, so she cared for whoever her friend cared for. They were in a psychiatric hospital, because Zacethine’s husband, Ted, was freaking out after he witnessed a horrible murder that even the cops weren’t allowed to see until the cleanup crew came.

“Arden was shot. There’s a high possibility she will go into organ failure,” Shaun said impatiently, clearly wanting to go into the hospital to help.

He was puzzled that weapon, a beat up civilian version of the criminal's rifles, was still underneath the truck. A search turned up a pocket knife, but nothing else of use in the corpse's pockets. The truck held several loaded magazines and cardboard boxes of ammunition. Trey walked back to the road, using the piece of rope that substituted for sling, to carry the spare rifle on his shoulder. It was a slow climb up the embankment to the road.

The district attorney asked her about her injuries and Monica explained them to the courtroom as Evan

The Inspector Gammon's secret office was five miles outside the city. And they drove into the small lot. It was like a log cabin. He got out first, to open up the door. LJ and Andy were still reluctant to trust him. They unwillingly got out of the vehicle.

Then, he sat down on the ground next to her as he started to drink the water. Owen was the first one to talk since the attack ended as he said in a hoarse tone, [color=003471]"Thanks for saving my life. My name is Owen, a police officer before this shit