Now, this is why I love my job and can never get enough of it even when I'm in this business since the dawn of time. The smile on my face widens as Lucy who insists that she's Luke gasps in fear and the rowdy teenager Obryn's eyes widen.

"Please continue. Tell us more." I lean closer towards Mr. Barrett with a wolfish grin plastered on my face.

"I didn't want Deiondre in the frat." Mr. Barrett says simply before adding, "But I didn't have the power to say so. The only person who has the power is the president of the fraternity."

"So I did what I thought was the next best thing at the time. I started spreading rumors and planting doubts." Mr. Barrett stops to sip his tea again. Man, is he thirsty or what? Luckily for him, the teas I brew are bottomless.

"It was the sixties in the United States. There was a lot of unrest. The only reason Deiondre was in the fraternity in the first place was because it was a way for the fraternity to show solidarity with the activism at the time. It was what all the cool kids did then. To pretend how progressive we were." Mr. Barrett scoffs.

"But no matter how hard we tried to pretend, the rest of us were still cocooned in our own white privilege. When the activism reached new heights, we started to panic. Scared of being robbed. Come to think of it. It's silly. We rob them of basic human rights and freedom but still paint them as the bad guys, instead of pointing the gun at ourselves." The self-disgust evident in his eyes. I took in the sight with glee.

"And I took advantage of that. The hazing of the newcomers was a day after Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. Deiondre was ran over by one of the frat members before the hazing even started. Of course, it was disguised as an accident and no one was charged. The entire incident was swept under the rug by the policemen who were, as you could guess, all white." I look with a faint sinister smile at the way Mr.  Barrett's hand tightened around his teacup, making his knuckles white.

"At the time, I shifted the blame to others. Because technically, I didn't have blood on my hands. But come to think of it. It was all my fault. I was the one who started it. Who provoked the others while being fully aware of what the others would do." Mr. Barrett gives himself a self-deprecating smile and stops there.

Sensing that was the end of Mr.Barrett's story, I finally straightened. "So, you fuelled a murder with your words."