I never said that the Viola investigation was botched, and neither did my brother. I love Lulu, but she is really good at hearing what she wants to hear. I want to go on record saying that my brother has nothing but nice things to say about his boss. Though said investigation is over, I am not at liberty to reveal anything I learned internally, which is nothing, because I am not a law enforcement officer. I can only speak to the matter as a private citizen, and resident of Blast City. I spoke with Viola once, when I went to visit Lulu, and they were just finishing up one of their tutoring sessions. I couldn’t tell you why she and I never crossed paths before. We didn’t hate each other. We didn’t have any particular thoughts on each other, as far as I know. While this is a small town, yes, we also operate within our own cliques. There are alternate realities where we’re close, I’m sure of it, but this isn’t one of them. You see, there’s this thing called a monkey sphere. People might claim to have lots of friends, but when it really comes down to it, an individual is only capable of truly caring about a handful of others on a deep level. Sure, most of us has a general love for humanity, but as far as real connections go, our brains only have room for so many. If we try to bond with too many people, we become spread so thin that none of them is all that real. That’s what I believe happened with Viola. No, I don’t think she died because of it—though maybe it played a part—but she was probably more lonely than she let on. Even her closest friends couldn’t have known her that well, though they might have thought they did. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying any of this, since I was neither friends with her, nor her therapist. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to be a psychologist, and have been studying the field for the last several years, even before I was old enough to take the class. I would not say no to an offer to join you when you finally interview her killer, should you be authorized to do so.
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