[CM] THE CASE

Everyone is against prejudice, but everyone has prejudice. — H. Spencer

Reid was reading when Griffith came out of the bathroom. While Griffith was sitting on the bed looking at the case files, Reid was reading. While Griffith turned off the lights and went to bed, Reid was reading.

Griffith looked at his roommate who was paying attention, and couldn't help but ask, "Don't you take a shower?"

"Huh?" Reid said unconsciously, "Are you done?"

"...I finished washing it half an hour ago."

"Oh, I'll wash right away."

That's what he said, but Reid's eyes were fixed on the book, and he didn't move at all.

Griffith had no choice but to remind him again: "It's past twelve o'clock, and you have to go to work tomorrow, so go to bed early."

"Twelve o'clock? Then wait a little longer, I usually don't go to bed so early."

"..." Griffith decided to leave him alone, rolling over and closing his eyes to sleep.

He fell asleep quickly, probably from exhaustion.However, he did not sleep soundly for long.

When Griffith was awakened by a loud bang, he almost shot his gun.

Griffith almost jumped up: "Reid!"

"It's okay." Reid's voice came from the bathroom, "I dropped the shower."

Griffith was frightened into a cold sweat, his heart rate soared, and he couldn't calm down for a long time, and the drowsiness evaporated long ago.He wiped his face with his T-shirt, then turned on his phone to check the time.

One forty in the morning.

He had only slept for over an hour.

Griffith sighed and lay back down.

Anyone who has experienced insomnia knows that it is actually very painful to force yourself to sleep when you cannot fall asleep.Especially there are small sounds around, which are as annoying as flies "buzzing" in the ear.

While Griffith was closing his eyes to sleep, Reid came out of the bathroom and started walking around the room.

So Griffith heard Reid walk over to the desk, and there was an unreserved "boom" between the spine of the book and the hard wooden top.Then there were footsteps again, as if he was about to put his dirty clothes in a plastic bag, and Griffith heard a sound of plastic rubbing.Then, he didn't know what to think of, and walked into the bathroom again.

This annoying movement continued until Reid turned off the lights and went to bed.Griffith, who was getting more and more awake, turned on the phone again.

02:30am.

Griffith put away the phone, closed his eyes in all the resentment, and almost wanted to take Reid out for a fight.

The next day, Griffith greeted Morgan with two dark circles under his eyes. Morgan gloated and handed him a cup of coffee: "Yo, Griffith, how did you sleep last night?"

Griffith was weak: "No, Reid, he went to bed too late."

Reid was complaining that Morgan didn't bring him coffee, and when he heard Griffith's words, Reid said strangely: "But you went to bed early, and I didn't let you sleep."

Griffith shot him a speechless look.

Morgan embraced Griffith, and the two brothers hugged him nicely: "Tell me, why did he wake you up yesterday?"

"He dropped the flower on the floor." Griffith paused. "How do you know?"

Morgan snickered: "Because I have experienced it too. Last time he knocked down the suitcase, I was so scared that I thought the door was kicked."

"I've never looked forward to the case so much," Griffith announced gloomily, "I'm never living with Reid again."

Morgan laughed. "That's why I refuse to sleep with Reid. To be honest, I want to punch him. No one can sleep until he falls asleep."

Reid puffed up his cheeks and looked aggrieved.

It happened that JJ and Emily came in. JJ nudged Reid with an elbow: "Morning, Spencer, what's wrong?"

Reid pointed at Morgan and Griffith: "They wronged me."

The two beauties immediately looked at them condemningly.

Griffith retorted blankly: "To be reasonable, if you are woken up in the middle of the night by a loud noise like an explosion, then Reid can still see the sun rise, which means that you really love him."

The condemning eyes of the beauties immediately changed their targets.

Morgan next to him laughed until his stomach ached.

"So happy?" Hotch appeared at the door at some unknown time, startling the four of them, "It's time to start working. The quiz will be published at 09:30, so get ready."

With one hand, the thick curtains were pulled open, and the glass windows were pushed open, and the busy noise of the city broke into the cozy bedroom.

The man happily started tidying up the room.He turned on the recorder, and a sexy male voice came out: "Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, honey," the man replied.

"How's the weather today?"

"Not so good." The man shook off the quilt, "Cloudy days, you know, I hate cloudy days."

"Oh..." The voice trembled a little, "Sorry, I'm not good at finding topics."

The man said generously: "It's okay, honey. It's cute too."

"...Really?" The voice sounded even more trembling, "I...I..."

"Sweetheart?" The man folded the quilt and picked up the rose on the bed, "It's okay, you don't need to blame yourself, I can replace you for things you are not good at."

"Thank you...thank you." The voice didn't sound relieved at all, but it seemed like it was about to cry.

The man didn't seem to understand his strangeness, and continued to ask gently: "Let me ask you, do you like roses?"

He was answered by a long silence.

The man's smile cooled down a little: "Sweetheart?"

Still silent, suddenly, the tape recorder made a harsh sound.The man sighed, turned around and patted the machine, and took out the tape.

"It's time to change the machine." The man said to himself, "Really, old things just can't be kept...and so is love."

He threw the tapes on the table and put another one into the machine.After a while, another male voice came out.

"Good morning, dear."

The man took off his T-shirt and planned to take a shower: "Good morning, sweetheart."

The tape in the tape recorder was still playing, and the male voice performed a one-man show alone, without getting a response from the man.

Rose nodded to him, and was crowded in the white vase without sadness or joy, like a dead bloody love affair.

The box of tapes was thrown face up on the table, and someone had written their names in red marker.

That happened to be the name in the autopsy report—Allen Finch.

"The prisoner was white, between 30 and 40 years old, of medium build," Gideon said. "He was gay, frequented the 'True Love' bar, was a regular or staff member."

"He was single, lived alone, estranged from his neighbors," Morgan continued. "There may have been a house with a basement where he imprisoned his victims."

"He's not a sadist, he's not mentally abnormal, he can blend in well with the crowd, and he has a decent job." Emily stood opposite Morgan and gave Griffith a wink beside her.

Griffith immediately added: "We believe he is not aggressive in appearance and probably has an American-made car."

Reid follows him: "In the prisoner's fantasy, he's in a romantic relationship with his victims. The relationship only lasts a week, and for some reason, he kills them."

"We think he had a lot of affection for the victims, and he's probably going back to the site to mourn. Also, that bar meant a lot to him," Hotch said. "That's it, thank you for listening."

Officer Clark stood up and arranged for his subordinates: "Okay, brothers on the night shift, work hard, and then investigate the bar..."

BAU people automatically gather together.

Hotch said, "We're going to the bar tonight too, Morgan, Reid, Griffith, can you?"

The three nodded.

"Okay. Griffith, you can rest if you're not feeling well, you haven't slept well for two nights?" Hotch said and patted him on the shoulder.

"It's okay, I can," Griffith said, "Thanks."

"Then go back first..."

"Hotch." JJ came over, "Judge Finch wants to see you."

Hotch paused: "Okay. You go back to the office first. JJ, where is the judge?"

"In the reception room. Also, the gay rights group is making trouble at the door again."

"You cooperate with the police to appease you."

"Yes, sir."

Paul Finch is in his 50s.He has always been a fair and strict judge. Over the long years, the rigor of the law has polished him into an appearance of calmness and prestige in every wrinkle.

Hotch chatted with him for a few words and started asking how Allen was doing.To his surprise, Paul felt less grief over his son's death than his wife.

Mr. Judge didn't know about Allen's recent situation. Hotch asked several routine questions, and Paul's answer was "don't know". Hotch had to give up: "Mr. Finch, your relationship with Allen is tense, isn't it?"

Paul doesn't seem to want to discuss this: "That's right. Agent Hotchner, could you please hurry up? I have a trial to attend."

Hotchner seemed unaware: "Is it because of Allen's sexuality?"

"Agent Hotchner..."

"Do you know why Allen is going to the bar?"

Paul raised his eyebrows high: "I know, that kid is protesting to me. To be honest, if his mother didn't object, I would send him to a treatment center for 'reversal therapy'."

"Do you know what Allen does at the bar?"

Paul scoffed. "What else to do? He's really lucky that he hasn't gotten sick to this day."

"Allen never goes out with strangers, he's never dated," Hotch said. "That's not luck."

"Then why did he disappear? Why was he killed?" Paul said coldly, "Detective Hotchner, you just need to solve the case. The relationship between me and my son does not need mediation."

The hard-hearted father stood up and looked at his watch impatiently: "The trial is about to start, sorry, I tried my best to cooperate. But Allen and I haven't spoken to each other for two years, and there is only so much I can do to help. "

Finally, he said in a stiff tone, "Goodbye."