Paranoia...
So I'm at the beach right now, kickin' it in my truck's office. Been here since around 5:35am, it's mid afternoon now, the waves are fun today. Sun came out an hour and a half ago, went and set up a buncha camera's to hopefully see a shark breach the ocean surface. No luck.
A few of the boyz, before they just paddled out for a surf session, smoked out. It's hot outside, I'm in shorts, no t-shirt. I was drinkin' a cold brewski. Always on the lookout for cops, heck who needs a
drinkin' in public ticket today? The boyz don't gotta wory about smokin' pot here in California any more, for it's legal, everyone can get a doctors prescription. But I recall many a time when the surf crew was smokin' out when it was illegal. No one wants to be arrested for that, or havin' pot on 'em. Always a bit of paranoia if and when the man cruised by. "Oh sheeet, the cops, hide the joint."

Today it's hide the beer if he does come by*...
So I get to thinkin' as I throw down my beer, of Amanda and Raffaele, involved in a brutal sex game gone wrong. Or was it a hazing that went tragically wrong. Or was that a cat fight over bringin' to many guys home. Or wait, was it an argument that got outta control because Amanda didn't clean the friggin' toilet?
Whatever theory it was that the cops, or the
colpevolisti finally agree upon, Amanda and Raffaele both said they got stoned that night. Gettin' stoned and bein' involved in a bloody stabbing murder would make me paranoid as heck. What am I gonna do? Hmmm. Being stoned is an excellant way to do a serious clean-up, I've re-arranged many of the places I've lived while under the influence of THC. So I;m gonna pretend that Amanda and Raff did do a clean-up.
The clean-up should have been a breeze, in my humble opinion. Wipe this bloody area down, rinse out the washrag, wipe it down again. Throw the bloody clothing away, and the bloody bathmat too, along with the knife/knives. Raff touched Meredith's bra clasp, where is it? Can't find it, it must be under the body. Lift it, move it. gotta find it and throw it away. There's some hair, whoevers it is, pick it up and throw it away outside or flush it down the toilet with the bra clasp too. Put Amanda's lamp back in her room. Lock the door, throw away the keys. Opps, forgot to put the lamp back, and throw the bra casp away. Gotta get it. Gotta break down the door then.
Do it, no one will hear if they didn't even come a runnin' when Meredith screamed...
Now I don't know about you, but when I used was a young buck and got stoned, I would worry a lot about the cops if or when I had to go out. I was definately more paranoid of gettin' pulled over and having to converse with the man, since I've been doing something illegal. Yikes!
If Raffaele had not already called the cops when the Postal Police pulled up to return Filomena and Meredith's cell phones, and I was pretending to be Amanda, I would have been extremely paranoid if I was involved in a bloody murder and trying to complete an immaculent clean-up. Who wouldn't? I would have just been very direct in my answering any questions that the police had asked and tried to get outta the situation fast. "No officer, the owner's of the cell phones are not home, but I'll be sure and give them to back to my friends. Thanks for bringin' them over. We are leaving on a trip outta town so I gotta run. Thanks, again, goodbye."
Now in my experience, nobody that does illegal activities, such as drinkin' in public, as I was just doin', or smokin' pot or hash in a country where it is illegal, or much more seriously, stabbing someone in her throat again and again until death, is ever going to invite police officers into the house where this activity took place.
"Hey officer I'm drinkin' a beer outside in public, come on over, wanna chat with me and smell it on my breath?" Right...
"Hey officer, I helped murder my housemate last night, and I was really stoned too. Wanna come inside? Follow me, I'll wanna show you a bloody fooprint, a broken window and some crap in a toilet." Right...
So say you're a stoner. You did do the crime. You tried to hide it, but it just won't go away. What do ya do. Run? Leave Italy for the U.S.A.? or elsewher? Na, you just keep keep on smokin' out, thats what. But you definately have to be at least a lttle bit paraniod by the now. "I wonder when I'm gonna be busted? Everbody is talking about my crime,"you would have to have thought. And then when the cops call your boyfriend on a Monday night where you 2 are smoking out again, what do you do? Answer the phone or let it go to voice mail? Hmmm, let's keep the ruse going. "Honey, answer it, let's go mess with the cops some more." "Ok, officer, sure I'll come on down for further questioning, but let us finish dinner 1st." Right...
Where was the paranoia that any stoner, 1 who smokes out in a country where it is illegal to do so, would surely have exhibted?
Especially stoners who killed another person...
* - Don't worry,
I won't drink and drive, I'll be here at the beach for 5 more hours today, my mild buzz will surely be gone...
L8, RW