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Because the mansion where the incident occurred was located in Montecito, Santa Barbara County—not Los Angeles—the case did not fall under the LAPD, but under the jurisdiction of the local police department.
Henry, arrested in flagrante, now sat silently in the interrogation room. Outside, however, the station was in chaos—like a bustling marketplace. Over a dozen witnesses waited to give statements, overwhelming the small-town police.
The local district attorney, upon hearing the news, showed an unusual level of enthusiasm and personally came to the station to interrogate the suspect.
Unlike the officers—who only knew the victims were wealthy—the district attorney fully understood the identities of the Arden couple.
Members of the Arden family were not people one could easily meet. Now that an opportunity to earn their favor had appeared, how could he not seize it?
If handled well, it could lead to future advancement—or at the very least, significant benefits.
Since this was a case of an on-the-spot arrest, his tone was especially aggressive. He slammed the interrogation table repeatedly, as if trying to intimidate Henry through sheer force.
"Talk! Why did you murder Mr. and Mrs. Arden?!"
"Speak! Were you acting under someone's orders? Was this connected to a mutant extremist group?!"
"I'm telling you—there are plenty of eyewitnesses who saw the whole thing! Don't think staying silent will save you. I'm giving you a chance to explain. If you don't take it, don't blame anyone when the verdict doesn't go your way!"
"Are you even listening to me?! You're in my hands now—there's no way you're walking out of here innocent!"
The interrogation room door opened.
A calm, confident voice cut in. "District Attorney Will, perhaps you should lower your voice. There's no need to frighten my client."
"Damn it, why is it you?!" The prosecutor clearly recognized the lawyer—and not fondly. "Get your client to plead guilty. I can offer a better deal."
The lawyer turned to Henry. "Mr. Henry Brown, my name is Scott Jefferson. I've been retained by Stark Industries as your legal counsel. Regarding the case—"
Henry finally spoke. "I'm not guilty. I will not accept any plea deal."
The prosecutor slammed the table again. "With that many witnesses, you think they're all blind?!"
Henry's second sentence was a question. "Who exactly are you accusing me of killing?"
"James Arden and Lilith Arden," the prosecutor replied immediately. "Two wise individuals who made outstanding contributions to society."
"Then… where are the bodies?"
"…The—" The prosecutor's momentum faltered. His excitement turned into unease as he realized the most crucial element of any murder case—the bodies—was missing.
He flipped frantically through the reports. The more he read, the paler he became. Sweat formed on his forehead. "Perhaps you disposed of them… or destroyed the remains."
It was a murder accusation—yet there were no bodies, no forensic reports. The arrest had been made purely based on the testimony of the Arden family's bodyguards.
Henry said coldly, "So let me get this straight. In Mr. Arden's own house, in front of over a dozen bodyguards, I killed both victims, disposed of the bodies somewhere unknown—or completely destroyed them—
"—and then allowed myself to be restrained at the crime scene and arrested as a 'caught-in-the-act' suspect. Is that correct?
"Mr. Will, does law school teach logic?"
The prosecutor snapped, "Then how do you explain so many people accusing you at once?!"
Henry looked at him like he was an idiot. "If you think mass hallucination is unlikely, then the only alternative is that they were instructed to make false accusations.
"You don't actually believe that a claim becomes true just because enough people repeat it—especially without a body. I hope you can convince a judge with that argument."
The prosecutor made one last attempt. "Then what about the murder weapon? Your cross necklace? So many witnesses saw you kill them with it!"
Even with his hands cuffed, Henry made a clumsy sign of the cross. "Lord, forgive this man for he is blind.
"Determining a murder weapon requires forensic analysis. So go ahead—test it. Check for blood traces. It's in your custody. I can't tamper with it even if I wanted to.
"If they said I used a knife, fine. But a cross? Are you serious? How exactly do I kill an adult with something the size of a finger?
"And do you know how small it is? It's not the kind of cross you nail Jesus onto. You can't even crush someone with it, let alone kill them."
Frustrated, the prosecutor stormed out to question the police further.
The lawyer, meanwhile, stood there, completely baffled.
Before arriving, he had only known his client was arrested for murder—victims being the Arden family heads. He hadn't known any details.
Originally, he believed negotiating the best plea deal was the only viable strategy. The victims weren't insignificant, and the arrest was made on the spot—overturning the case seemed impossible.
Another unspoken objective was to distance Stark Industries from the incident as much as possible.
But now, things clearly weren't so simple.
He spoke carefully. "Mr. Brown, you understand that I am bound by attorney-client privilege.
"I need you to tell me everything—clearly and completely—so I can represent you effectively and achieve the best possible outcome."
Henry glanced at him. The lawyer thought he was hiding his disdain well—but nothing escaped Kryptonian perception.
Still, Henry decided to speak.
"Do you know what vampires are?"
The lawyer scoffed. "My life isn't limited to law books and case files. Of course I know what vampires are. What does that have to do with anything?"
"The Arden couple were no longer human. They turned themselves into vampires. Holy silver removes their cursed existence—leaving nothing behind."
"You've got to be kidding me." The lawyer was initially annoyed—but seeing Henry's serious expression, he hesitated.
He recalled certain rumors.
"…You're not joking, are you?"
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