A brief account of the exchange between the Clark County Police Department and a young man who claimed to be immortal.
The suspect had maintained a quiet and calm demeanor throughout the initial stages of the investigation. The polygraph had turned up negative at every turn. A team of experts from Seattle, trained in applied psychology and body language, turned up with no results after a thorough examination. With the suspect's permission, we had administered sodium amytal - but no satisfactory results were ever found.
Upon learning that the suspect had prior relations with the victim, he was asked to submit to one last session of questioning. The following is a transcript of that conversation.
Adair: "Detective Bruce Adair, session 4-1-2-0: Emily Dee. State your name, please."
Mel: "My name is Mel."
Adair: "Thank you. It was brought to our attention that you had prior relations to Mrs. Emily Dee. Is this correct?"
Mel: "It is."
Adair: "And what was the nature of your relationship with the victim?"
Mel: "She –"
Adair: "Go on…"
Mel: "She was my daughter."
Adair: "Mr. Mel, you are aware that Mrs. Dee was in her late sixties, aren’t you?"
Mel: "Yes. She was born on January 3rd, 1944."
Adair: "…It’s not possible for her to be your daughter, Mr. Mel. You’ve been honest with us through this entire process – why start lying now?"
Mel: "It’s not a lie. Her mother’s name was Evelyn Harris; a girl I had met in London. We fled from the city together during the Blitz."
Adair: "Very well, I’ll play along. How old are you?"
Mel: "Oh – three thousand, eight hundred and something? I lost count, a long time ago."
Adair: "Three thousand, eight hundred years…? Mel, now is not a good time for this sort of –"
Mel: "My name was Melchizedek in those days. I was a sort of king, but not the kind you’re thinking about. I was also a priest of El Elyon, to whom I owe this blessing of eternal life. The world was a much simpler place. We still had warfare, of course, and every now and again we would be visited by a plague or a famine. We had no idea at the time that we could have just moved to a better part of the world – we weren’t even sure what the world looked like."
Adair: "So, you’re immortal."
Mel: "Ever since I accepted the covenant, yes."
Adair: "The covenant you made with – God?"
Mel: "Yes … El Elyon, Yahweh, the God Most High. He who fell the gods Dagon and Moloch, amongst other deities along the Levant and Mediterranean."
Adair: "Right. And Mrs. Dee was your daughter."
Mel: "She was my one hundred and seventy-fifth child, yes. I may not remember all the years of my own life, but I’ll always remember my children."
Adair: "You’ve had one hundred and seventy five children?"
Mel: "It’s not very much when you consider that I’ve been here for nearly four thousand years. There were several centuries, here and there, where I remained abstinate. For all things considered, you could be a distant descendant of mine."
Adair: "That’s not even remotely close to being funny."
Mel: "When you lose a child and find that you can no longer cry, you will understand why I choose to smile."
Adair: "Where are you from, Mr. Mel?"
Mel: "Absolutely everywhere. I was born in the land of Salem, and by the time I was three hundred, I had covered much of the Middle East. I travelled east, where I first met the Scholars of the Orient. The Chinese were truly a brilliant people, even in the earliest of days. I stayed there for a while, enjoying the enthusiasm everyone shared towards free-thought and the importance of philosophy."
Adair: "What a pleasant story. I’ll need to tell my grandchildren all about it. I take it you even met Confucius?"
Mel: "Oh, he wasn’t born for another several hundred years. I did though. Shortly after, I travelled south and west towards India, where I had the opportunity to study with an extraordinary young man, by the name of Siddhārtha. He was actually a troubled fellow with much insecurity, but by the time our discussions had ended, he was the Buddha. He afforded vision to many people – truly a great man."
Adair: "Listen, is there any proof?"
Adair: "Yes, evidence that you are pushing four thousand years old. Something tangible…?"
Mel: "A suitable demonstration would be very difficult to manifest, Detective Adair. I assure you, if you were to shoot me with that gun, I would die from the wound."
Adair: “So you have no evidence. You have nothing to support this claim, and you have no intention of helping us with this case.”
Mel: “The evidence I’ve given you has been just as substantial as the evidence you’ve used to keep me here. I did not kill my daughter, nor would I ever harm anyone. That is why I will be leaving here, shortly.”
Adair: “Can’t argue against that. You’ve already stayed longer than you’ve had to. I just –”
Mel: “It was a desperate criminal who killed my daughter. They killed her in order to steal her belongings. This is nothing new, Detective. We’ve been killing each other since before we even learned how to pick up sticks. We always covet that which we do not have, and we ignore that which we do have. We spend our entire lives working ourselves to the bone, trying to rise above everyone else. Then we break under the pressure, spending all of our hard-earned resources to repair our broken bodies and minds. It’s the mark of a conflicted individual.”
Mel: “I am leaving now, Detective Adair. I thank you for attempting to find my daughter’s killer, but to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t matter anymore. She is gone and no longer knows of pain and suffering and loss. We suffer just as much throughout the eternity following death as we did throughout the eternity preceding our birth.”
The suspect slowly stood up and turned to walk away. He stopped abruptly and turned back to face Detective Adair. Casually, he reached for a piece of paper and a pen and he began to jot something down.
“Jerusalem’s Mystery Floor – The marks spell M.”
Passing the note to the Detective, he then nonchalantly strolled out of the interrogation room and was never seen again.