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"god dammit Joe. You stupid fucking idiot! What the fuck were you thinking you fat fuck"

"Its not what it looks like. I swear it wasn't me. I found her that way... there was no way for me to know... it's not my fault... I couldn't help it... I swwweear ppplease dddon't!"

Bam! The shot resided through the silence, quickly followed by the uncomfusible sound of screeching tires on a rainy morning. The car sped of leading the body of Jose Vanik on the floor; blood and brains splattered all over, an unusual death for any businessman, specially a middle-aged overweight man with little money, two fat children and an obese wife. An average Joe if there ever was one.

Detective Juan Guzman arrived at the scene nearly two days later, quickly for Dominican police standards. He carried a 44-millimeter magnum, clearly a stolen gem from his days in the DEA. The body had already been burned, standard protocol in order to avoid the stench of the dead, and so there was little left on the scene to be used as evidence. The only items that could possible related to the crime: three bullets taken out of the corpses skull, the remains of his wallet which had "accidentally" been burned during the early stages of the investigation and a second body, a living one, of an unidentifiable woman, soaked in blood and with little recollection of what had happened the previous night. Weren't she seriously wounded she would be arrested, beat and forced to confess, immediately closing the case.