[CM] THE CASE

Death is part of the cosmic order, part of life in the world. — Montaigne

The BAU oversaw the test-writing release process. Morgan was sitting at the back of the office, out of reach of the camera.

Gideon arranged for someone to go and talk to the child.If this person is approaching these kids pretending to be a talent scout, then there must be girls who don't fall for it, and they need this kind of slip-through.

Emily went to do it, and Griffith was caught by her.His team dispersed, and the Inspector leaned against his desk alone.

Morgan stood up and walked over with his hands in his pockets: "Hey, I hate sitting here waiting, what do you think?"

Ware looked back at him.

"Want to go on patrol? Go back to the streets and pretend to be a patrolling cop?"

"Okay," Ware replied, "Why not? Better than sitting around and waiting for the next body to show up."

When they were going out, JJ rushed in and almost bumped into Ware.

"Be careful." The black detective gently helped her up.

"Thank you." JJ gave him a short smile, walked around them, and the high heels continued to "da da da".She stepped up a flight of steps and kept saying, "Someone called the hotline. So far, someone has reported a pastor, and someone has reported the school gatekeeper. He... oh, his name is Reverend Jesse Jackson."

Gideon didn't look up: "Is there any valuable information?"

JJ shook his head: "Not yet."

"Continue to check."

A police officer came over with a folder: "Uh, I have a person here. He remembers seeing a strange black man driving a black Lincoln sedan in front of the last victim's house yesterday."

Reid, who was silent on the side, finally looked up from the file.

JJ frowned: "This is the second time I have reported this car."

"A large black private car that matches the test," Reid said.

Gideon ordered: "Release this message to the media."

It was dark when Morgan received the message.They patrolled three blocks, going almost door-to-door. Ware opened the visor and took out a box of mints.He ate one himself, and handed the small iron box in Morgan's direction: "Do you want it?"

Morgan waved his hand and looked at the photo between the light shields - the two children were smiling at the camera, looking straight through the thin piece of paper.

"Why on earth are you cleaning up the mess for a mayor like this?" Morgan asked.

"You'll do the same." The inspector stared ahead.

Morgan shook his head: "I don't need to work for this kind of person."

Ware was silent.

"I know this is a difficult decision." Morgan stared at Ware's expression.

Ware sighed, "Don't you ever wish this wasn't a problem?"

Morgan asked calmly, "This?"

"Skin color." Ware said coldly.

"Oh." Morgan raised his eyebrows, "Don't judge people by their appearance, get to know me from the inside."

Ware nodded: "I mean, why should skin color be included in this matter? Someone committed a crime, we arrest him, that's how it should be."

Morgan scoffed.

"No flippant Reverends running around trying to drive everyone crazy about the wrong things; no mayor who's afraid of offending black people and doesn't want to tell the public what the hell we're looking for." Ware eyes weary, "...sometimes it's really tired."

"It's always been like this, man." Morgan leaned his head back in the seat. "Politicians, activists...they do what they want. We're the foot soldiers walking down the street to get the job done."

"Infantry." Ware glanced at him, "You're right."

"Only the person who finally finds out the result is the winner."

Ware smiled.

The atmosphere in the car had just eased, and Morgan, who had been paying attention to the outside of the car, patted Ware's arm: "Hey, pay attention! Over there, a black city Lincoln."

"Yeah, it's only a few blocks from Sandra Davis' house." Ware's hand was on the steering wheel.

"He turned right," Morgan said. "Right."

Ware turned right as promised.

The car they were following pulled over and Morgan got out, approaching their target warily.

"Cover me," he said, raising the loaded gun.

"Okay." Ware was a step behind him, also holding his gun.

Morgan went around to the driver's seat—no one was there.

Ware's gun suddenly changed direction: "Did you hear any movement?"

Morgan nodded at him restrainedly, and they split into two groups, breaking into the house on the street.

Ware walks through the cluttered backyard.

Morgan walked through the hedge, hiding behind a tree, and saw the car start.The black man is closing the trunk, the family is sitting in the back seat, and the little girl is still acting like a baby with her mother.

"False alarm, it's a car service," Morgan said into the intercom.

Ware breathed a sigh of relief: "Okay, let's go back to the car."

As he spoke, he pushed open the white wooden gate.

Morgan was walking back when he heard a gunshot.As a qualified FBI, Morgan's hair exploded at the time.

Ware had no reason to shoot, only...damn it!

The movement of his arrival startled the man with the gun.He is a white man with a receding hairline, black thick-rimmed glasses pinched on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes behind him are full of vigilance.

Morgan glanced briefly at Ware, who was lying on the ground, and forced himself to focus on facing his own gun.

"I'm the FBI!" Morgan swallowed the last swear word, feeling the air he breathed was full of angry blood, "FBI! He's the police!"

The man was quite frightened: "FFFFFBI?"

"I'm going to take out my wallet now and prove that I am, okay?!" Morgan slowly freed up a hand, showing him the empty palm, "Okay?!"

The man nods.

Morgan pulled out his wallet, opened it with great skill, and showed it to him.

The man hesitated for a moment, and finally lowered his gun.

Morgan confiscated his gun and rushed forward to cover Ware's bleeding wound.He yelled "Call 911" while pinching the detective's face: "Hey hey hey! Look at me! Look at me! Hey!! Brother!"

The gun was too close, the shock wave may have damaged Ware's internal organs, probably in more than one place.Blood slowly flowed down the corner of his mouth, his eyelids were half closed, and his eyes were already slack.

Morgan cupped his face: "Hey, listen to me! I've called an ambulance, Ware. Talk to me, come on, talk! Tell me about your family, you have kids right?! Two?"

Ware's eyelashes fluttered—boy, the topic gripped his slipping consciousness.Those black eyes rolled with difficulty and turned to Morgan.

His lips moved, but there was no sound.

Morgan continued: "Yeah, I saw the picture on your car. What's the name of the smaller one? Huh?"

"D...Dwayne..."

"Dwayne, fine, that's it. I'm keeping you. Fine. And about him, how old is he?"

Ware couldn't speak, he was like a broken bellows, only a hoarse gasp.

The light quickly faded from his eyes, no matter how much Morgan shouted his name, there was no room for recovery.

A drop of blood fell on the stone brick, and it became cold.

RickWare, an impartial detective.He is black, and he was inevitably discriminated against and hurt in the process of growing up. It may be abused by white children, a toilet door that cannot be opened, and the corner of his mouth swollen by fists... He accepts his skin color and race , he struggled for it, sighed for it.However, this world treats him unfairly.

He ended up being shot by the man he was protecting, a white man.

The murderer was sitting in the back seat of the police car, his eyes were terrified and innocent, like a frightened rabbit.

"I didn't know he was a policeman." He argued incoherently. "I... saw that black City Lincoln parked in front of my house, and this black man sneaked in with a gun."

"So you shot?" Hotch demanded.

"I'm terrified and I have family."

Hotch's eyes were cold and it made him shiver.

"Inspector Ware has family too," the officer said, closing the car door.

"Where's Morgan?" Hotch asked.

The policeman pointed behind him.

Morgan was sitting on the curb, with no place to rest her two long legs, so she had to prop them up in front of her in aggrieved manner. Hotch said to him condescendingly, "Are you okay?"

Morgan looked up at him.

This indomitable man usually had an aura when he was sitting, but now, like a brash child, he shook his head in a barely noticeable way.

Hotch wanted to say something else, but his cell phone rang first.

"JJ... what are you kidding?" He looked at Morgan. "Another girl is missing?"

Morgan's hand on his lap clenched tightly.