When you put a dead judge, the Gerhardt family, and some hitters from Kansas in a bag together, I go back to thinking it might be best just to confess to the crime myself, go live a long life in a cell somewhere with hot and cold running water.
You’re gonna look through every goddamn mug book in the state. And you’re gonna find this guy. And you’re gonna call Bemidji. And you’re gonna tell them that you screwed up… You… Absolving the rest of us of any dips***tery.