At noon, Larry took a break from his report so he went out to the terrace to drink his coffee without anyone bothering him.
At that moment, he took the opportunity to call Dexter, who might be in his office analyzing blood.
"Dex, did you see the news?"
"It was something incredible, everything that guy did was truly brilliant. As a killer, he has a kind of mark that few could match." Dexter answered in a way similar to Larry's.
Larry, taking advantage of the moment, asked: "Are you sure you don't want to transfer?"
"No… One forensic doctor is enough to cover a city, we get in each other's way if we work together." Dexter subtly sent a message that Larry detected instantly.
Now, two killers delivering justice would be too much for one city. If Larry ever worked with Dexter, he should experience his way of killing. And the same happened if anyone ever tried to use Dexter's modus operandi, who preferred anonymity.
"Anything about Sergeant Doakes?" Larry wanted to know if the sergeant would be a problem he should avoid.
"Seems like he doesn't remember or is too smart to keep quiet, either way, I'll be watching him." Dexter also needed to watch out for the sergeant, who was a nuisance to him.
"If you have problems, let me know, I'll take responsibility for all this." Larry knew this was partly his fault.
His intention was not to harm the innocent, to get what he wanted it was no longer necessary to keep being an FBI criminal profiler.
But if he tries to convince James Doakes, things might go well for him.
"I'll be in touch."
"Yes, I'll be busy." After hanging up, Larry had already sensed a presence behind him.
"What do you think of the coworker I assigned to support you?" Jack Clawford approached Larry and leaned against the balcony.
Larry drank some coffee and without hesitation said: "She's not ready to handle this kind of environment, I'm afraid she won't last a case."
"You'd be surprised." Jack knew Jane, this new recruit who had shown attitude. What he was looking for in this situation was for Larry to have different emotions, something that would help him bear the workload.
Larry suspected this but wasn't entirely sure. "Do you want me to participate in the meeting about the killer who calls himself the Judge?"
"Hmm, that would help, although he's not our boss yet, you could give them fresher ideas on where to look." Jack said before leaving.
Larry also finished his coffee and returned to the office, where he told Max, who was talking with Jane: "Max, I need copies of everything we have so far about the new Internet killer case."
"I thought we wouldn't be on that case." Jane was surprised to hear talk about the Death Judge on her first day on the team.
"And we're not, as far as I know, they formed a special team to carry out the investigation." Larry knew Jack wouldn't allow him to participate in the investigation since it would take too much time.
Jack's main priority was for Larry to find the Chesapeake Ripper along with his disciple who was still kidnapped according to the brief analysis Larry had made of the killer.
"Oh, I understand." Jane as it was her first day on this team still had many things to understand.
"Well, let's go." Larry called his team to participate in the meeting, at least it would give Jane the opportunity to gain some experience.
…
Meeting room, special team formed to catch the killer known as the Judge.
Criminal Analysis Department conference room – 8:00 AM
The silence was tense. In the room, an oval table held several high-ranking officers, federal agents, and a couple of behavioral specialists. At one head, Larry flipped through a thick file, with printed images from the viral video, fragments of leaked texts, and detailed timelines.
Jack sat next to him, with an almost empty coffee cup and tired eyes.
"All right…" said the operations commander, who seemed to have lost patience, "We've gathered all the evidence but still have no face. We need something more. Larry, what do you see?"
Larry slowly lifted his gaze. His tone was cold, methodical. "We're not facing a lone killer… The figure of the 'Death Judge' is too elaborate a symbolic construction to be the work of a single mind."
Everyone in the room exchanged looks.
An FBI agent frowned and asked: "What do you mean?"
Larry stood up, walked to the digital screen, and projected several images from the execution video. "The camera framing, the broadcast quality, the timing with the market crash, the mass publication on multiple platforms… All this requires a team. Not only technically, but strategically."
"Are you suggesting an organized cell?"
"More like a collective with a well-defined hierarchy. The 'Judge' is the face. But behind him there is a visual architect, a logistics operator, and probably someone with military or intelligence experience. The transitions in the video, the use of symbols, and the theatricality… nothing was improvised."
Elena Cruz, connected by video call from headquarters, intervened firmly: "And what does this collective seek, according to you?"
Larry took a few seconds, then answered: "They don't seek justice. They seek narrative control. Their goal isn't punishment, it's provocation. To generate social division. To turn the criminal into a martyr, and the institutions into villains. They are building a myth. And they are doing it quite well."
One of the social media analysts intervened: "The followers of this subject's fake accounts increase by thirty thousand per hour. Some forums already talk about the 'Judge' as if it were a political movement."
"Exactly," said Larry as he always did. "And that makes it more dangerous. Because we're not just facing a killer… but an idea that begins to take shape in thousands of minds."
Jack crossed his arms. "So, where do we start?"
Larry returned to his seat, flipping through the folder with an almost indifferent air. "Let's look for patterns of synchronized posts, leaks before the event, origin points of used proxies… But above all, look for silence. The pieces that are missing on purpose. That's where they hide."
Silence again. The meeting continued, but Larry's words had already sown unease.
The enemy was not a man. It was a message. And that message was being received.