Here’s a sample of an interrogation scene from one of my crime thrillers. I have written it in two parts. The first one is a transcript between the suspect and detective. The second sample is written with the dialogue and shows action between the suspect, detective and other characters within the scene.

The transcript below is how an interrogation would appear on the pages in real life, not fiction.

Detective Francisco: “Do you know why you’re here?” Tony asked in a calming voice.

Anna: “Of course. This entire farce has been staged by my daughter to seek revenge. But I’m here to prove my innocence. You’ll see. Like I said, Rebecca is a loser.”

Detective Francisco “How long were you married to … “Tom Watson?”

Anna: “I figured you’d have your shit together before coming in here, detective. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The South breeds idiocy.”

Detective Francisco: “How long were you two married?”

Anna: “Too long. Why don’t you get to the point? You’re wasting my time.”

Detective Francisco: “Okay, okay. Does the name … Chris Jenkins ring a bell?”

Anna: “No. Should it?”

Detective Francisco “What about a Kyle Moore?”

Anna: “Nope.”

Detective Francisco” “You’re positive?”

Anna: “As positive as one can be.”

Detective Francisco: “Let me refresh your memory, Ms. Watson. These are the detectives who worked your husband’s homicide.”

Anna: “Oh, yeah. I remember now. But what’s this got to do with me?”

Detective Francisco: “Jenkins is dying from prostate cancer.”

Anna: “Poor guy.”

Detective Francisco: “Yeah, poor guy. He’s in hospice care. Probably be dead soon.” (Opens file folder)

Anna: “What’s that?”

Detective Francisco: “Oh, I forgot to mention this due to all us Southerners being stupid, but that’s a signed confession from Chris Jenkins. Apparently, he’s admitted to killing your husband.”

Anna: “Really? I had no idea.”

Detective Francisco: “But there’s more. He wants to die with a clear conscience. He made it abundantly clear you were the mastermind behind the execution. That you orchestrated the whole thing.”

Anna: “That’s a lie. He’s lying.”

Detective Francisco: “I don’t know. The guy sounded pretty convincing. Enough to go to the grand jury. If you’re here to prove your innocence, now would be the time.”

Anna: “I know what this is. False evidence. You’re trying to trick me into confession to a crime I didn’t commit. I must admit. That’s smart, but I’m not falling for your trickery.”

Detective Francisco: “What about the one-hundred-thousand dollars you gave him and his partner for killing your husband? That’s no trickery. Just good-olʼ fashioned police work.”

Anna: “This has all been fun, detective, but you’re boring me.”

Detective Francisco: “Well. Can you explain away that evidence?”

Anna: “You said the man wanted to come clean, but I imagine he’s delirious.” (Points toward door) “This is all that little bitch’s fault!”

Detective Francisco: “So Chris Jenkins is a liar?”

Anna: “Yes.”

Detective Francisco: “And you didn’t have an affair with him?”

Anna: “Did I have an affair?”

Detective Francisco: “So that’s a no?”

Anna: “Are you deaf?”

Detective Francisco: “And you didn’t conspire to have your husband killed?”

Anna: “What kind of a sham are you all running here?”

Detective Francisco: “That’s a no?”

Anna: “Sure. Why not?”

Detective Francisco: “Then what does a man on his death bed have to gain by telling lies?”

Anna: “Hell if I know.”

Detective Francisco: “I think you do.”

Anna: “Excuse me?”

Detective Francisco: “We both know the truth. You liked money more than your husband.”

Anna: “That’s not true.”

Detective Francisco: “And you found a couple of dirty cops to do your bidding. All you had to do was set things in motion.”

Anna: “I did not.”

Detective Francisco: “This is your husband’s insurance six months before his death. This policy is worth fifty-thousand dollars.” (Second sheet) “This one was taken out three weeks before his murder. The policy is worth five-hundred-thousand. But doubles in case of a homicide. Why did you have your husband killed?”

Anna: “I didn’t.”

Detective Francisco: “Yes, you did.”

Anna: “I didn’t.”

Detective Francisco: “Was it because you were jealous he paid more attention to your daughter than he did you?”

Anna: “Fuck you.”

Detective Francisco: “Did he want a divorce and that might leave you with nothing?”

Anna: “No.”

Detective Francisco: “Did he think you were a monstrous bitch?”

Anna: “Stop it!”

Detective Francisco: “Just tell us why you had him killed?”

Anna: “Because he was a loser!”

If this interrogation is a little hard to follow, it’s because the interrogation was being watched by Tony Francisco’s partner, Rebecca Watson, who is also Anna Watson’s daughter.

Here’s the second example. The way it’s written in the book.

Veronica and I stood outside the interrogation room. We had ringside seats to this main event. We had an unobstructed view of my mother, but Tony’s back was to us. He’d placed a manila folder next to him on the table.

My mother looked at Tony. “My, my, aren’t we a big boy. You screwing my daughter? Of course you are. Half the precinct probably is. I’m sure that’s how she got promoted to detective.” She leaned forward. “Want to know a secret? My daughter’s a loser. Just like her father.” She nodded toward the one-way mirror. “I know you’re back there, Rebecca. I’m not stupid.”

That’s right. Keep talking. Sooner or later you’ll make a mistake.

Veronica placed a hand on my shoulder. Not sure if she did this out of comfort or restraint if I decided to barge in.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Tony asked in a calming voice.

“Of course. This entire farce has been staged by my daughter to seek revenge. But I’m here to prove my innocence. You’ll see. Like I said, Rebecca is a loser.”

I couldn’t see my partner’s reaction, but from the many interrogations we’ve done I knew he wasn’t biting. “How long were you married to…” he opened the file and removed a sheet of paper, “Tom Watson?”

Anna shook her head. “I figured you’d have your shit together before coming in here, detective.” She blew out a breath. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The South breeds idiocy.”

Our plan had been for Francisco to play dumb. Not too much. I called it the Matlock approach. In the show, Matlock, the attorney, played by Andy Griffith, often played dumb when talking with people. In doing so, they let their guard down and gave more information, thinking he was an imbecile. We’d hoped this approach would lead us to a confession. We wanted her to feel like she was driving the interrogation. For now.

“How long were you two married?”

“Too long. Why don’t you get to the point? You’re wasting my time.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Does the name…” he reached inside the file again, “Chris Jenkins ring a bell?”

Her eyes widened, clearly a sign of recognition. “No. Should it?”

“What about a Kyle Moore?”

Another flicker. “Nope.”

“You’re positive?”

“As positive as one can be.”

“Let me refresh your memory, Ms. Watson. These are the detectives who worked your husband’s homicide.”

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, yeah. I remember now. But what’s this got to do with me?”

“Jenkins is dying from prostate cancer.”

“Poor guy,” she said without any emotion. The woman had to be a sociopath, not that I needed a diagnosis. I knew firsthand the evil she could inflict.

“Yeah, poor guy. He’s in hospice care. Probably be dead soon.” Francisco reached into the folder and slid a piece of paper across the table.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention this due to all us Southerners being stupid, but that’s a signed confession from Chris Jenkins. Apparently, he’s admitted to killing your husband.”

I saw fear in her eyes. Never knew anything to scare her. Maybe she realized where this was heading.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“But there’s more,” Francisco said with a bit of sarcasm. “He wants to die with a clear conscience. He made it abundantly clear you were the mastermind behind the execution. That you orchestrated the whole thing.”

“That’s a lie. He’s lying.”

“I don’t know. The guy sounded pretty convincing. Enough to go to the grand jury.” He stretched the truth, but she didn’t know this. “If you’re here to prove your innocence, now would be the time.”

At this point I figured she’d confess or ask for a lawyer. Instead she smiled. Creeped me out. “I know what this is. False evidence. You’re trying to trick me into confession to a crime I didn’t commit.” She crossed her arms. “I must admit. That’s smart, but I’m not falling for your trickery.”

“What about the one-hundred-thousand dollars you gave him and his partner for killing your husband? That’s no trickery. Just good-olʼ fashioned police work.”

Her face turned pale. She took a moment before responding. “This has all been fun, detective, but you’re boring me.” I didn’t know if she was trying to kid herself or us. Either way, it was bad acting.

“Well?” he pressed on. “Can you explain away that evidence?”

She slunk into her chair. “You said the man wanted to come clean, but I imagine he’s delirious.” She hadn’t answered his question but was stalling for time. When you back a guilty person into a corner, they’ll do one of two things. Confess, or come out fighting.

She pointed at the door. “This is all that little bitch’s fault!”

Good. She came out fighting. Fighting breeds anger, which clouds the mind, allowing the investigator to get to the truth.

“So Chris Jenkins is a liar?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t have an affair with him?”

“Did I have an affair?” She smiled. A dead giveaway to deflection.

“So that’s a no?”

She shook her head. “Are you deaf?”

Instead of confronting her, Francisco moved on.

“And you didn’t conspire to have your husband killed?”

She eyed him. “What kind of a sham are you all running here?”

I liked the way my partner wasn’t letting my mother get to him. But soon, he’d be turning up the heat. To get a confession, you need to put some pressure on the suspect.

“That’s a no?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Then what does a man on his death bed have to gain by telling lies?”

“Hell if I know.”

“I think you do.”

“Excuse me?”

“We both know the truth. You liked money more than your husband.”

“That’s not true.”

“And you found a couple of dirty cops to do your bidding. All you had to do was set things in motion.”

“I did not.”

Francisco retrieved two sheets of paper from the file. He placed the first between them. “This is your husband’s insurance six months before his death. This policy is worth fifty-thousand dollars.” He shoved the second one closer to her. “This one was taken out three weeks before his murder. The policy is worth five-hundred-thousand.” He tapped a finger in the middle of the page. “But doubles in case of a homicide. Why did you have your husband killed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Was it because you were jealous he paid more attention to your daughter than he did you?”

I saw a flash of anger in her eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Did he want a divorce and that might leave you with nothing?”

“No.”

“Did he think you were a monstrous bitch?”

“Stop it!” If this woman could breathe fire, we’d all be toast.

“Just tell us why you had him killed?”

“Because he was a loser!”

Did you notice any of the subtle clues? Some were picked up by the protagonist as she’s watching the interrogation. I hope this has been helpful. If you want to see more, stay tuned. Part two of interrogation techniques will be out soon.