The Prisoner's Dilemma

‘You have to tell the truth. Is that what you are saying?’ The police would not leave the issue be.

‘I want to tell the truth. As well.’ The key words there were ‘as well’. Anthrax thought, I want to and I have to.

‘It’s the circumstances that are forcing this upon you, not an individual?’

‘No.’ Of course it was the circumstances. Never mind that the police created the circumstance.

Anthrax felt as if the police were just toying with him. He knew and they knew they would go after his mother if this interview wasn’t to their liking. Visions of his frail mother being hauled out of her house by the AFP flashed through his mind. Anthrax felt sweaty and hot. Just get on with it. Whatever makes them happy, just agree to it in order to get out of this crowded room.

‘So, would it be fair to summarise it, really, to say that perhaps . . . of your activity before the police arrived at your premises, that is what is forcing you?’

What was this cop talking about? His ‘activity’ forcing him? Anthrax felt confused. The interview had already gone on some time. The cops had such obscure ways of asking things. The room was oppressively small.

Day pressed on with the question, ‘The fact that you could see you had broken the law, and that is what is forcing you to come forward here today and tell the truth?’

Yeah. Whatever you want. ‘OK,’ Anthrax started to answer, ‘That is a fair assump –’

Day cut him off. ‘I just wanted to clarify that because the interpretation I immediately got from that was that we, or members of the AFP, had unfairly and unjustly forced you to come in here today, and that is not the case?’

Define ‘unfairly’. Define ‘unjustly’. Anthrax thought it was unfair the cops might charge his mother. But they told her it was perfectly legal to do so. Anthrax felt light-headed. All these thoughts whirring around inside his head.

‘No, that is not the case. I’m sorry for . . .’ Be humble. Get out of that room faster.