"Nicely done, Willy. Truly. A regular chain of evidence. Great stuff. Vivid. Heartbreaking. The victim cries out from beyond the grave. Yeah. Jurors love all that sort of crap, don't they? I bet you don't even need a confession anymore, do you, Willy? I tell you what, though, old sport. Let's make you a new one just in case. The real deal, all the juicy details. You can get your rocks off on that, then, can't you? Huh? I shot my wife in the face, right there. She didn't look so pretty after that. And l stood there looking down at her... and l watched her eyes go all empty. I could smell the blood and the shit. Smelled like metal. And the look on his face! He was trying to get her back to life and l was pissing myself laughing... because I took both the bastards out with one fucking bullet. Yeah. And now you've got your little bullet, haven't you? Got what you want. So bring it all on, kiddo. Bring it all into court. Except you can't, can you? Let's see, now, first year law, double jeopardy. I went to trial, you lost. Oh, pity about that. It doesn't matter what you do now. It doesn't matter what you know. I mean, she could come back from the dead, you see... and testify, spill the beans, and it would mean... nothing. So you can't touch me... ever."