Thread:Rocketlauncher22/@comment-29711200-20160922031821/@comment-30105631-20161102080235

Quietly, the man slips inside.

The investigator's house is littered with all kinds of documents. From observations to receipts, reports to love letters. It wouldn't be hard, in this kind of mess, to slip something in unnoticed.

The framer bends down, and places a couple of documents in, secret mafia meeting times, evidence to shift belief from him being an investigator to him being a consigliere. Enough to fool any sheriff.

The next day, there is a frenzy. The sheriff is accusing the investigator of working with the mafia, feeding them secrets and lying to the town. And the town, the town is calling for blood, whipped up into a frenzy by the man who is so, so sure that he is right. That he is about to accomplish his life goal of finding the mafia and hanging them.

The investigator is hanged. He is discovered to be not mafia. The next day, a vigilante has shot and killed the sheriff.

The framer smiles, and slinks back into the shadows.