The heavy iron door of the interrogation room swung open with a dull thud. A police officer stepped inside, followed by a sturdy man in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit. He carried a luxury leather briefcase of a well-known brand that looked heavy and expensive, contrasting sharply with the dingy, stifling atmosphere of the room.
"I am Justin Herdman, private counsel for Mr. Richard Alexander," the man announced, his deep voice commanding authority. He placed his briefcase on the scuffed interrogation table with a soft communal thud, then cast a sharp look at the detective sitting across from his client.
At the sight of Justin's arrival, Richard Alexander leaned back into his chair with a more relaxed motion. A cynical, triumphant smile etched itself onto his face. He turned toward the officer before him with a gaze that seemed to mock the failure of their interrogation.
