"I need to be free of this guilt," he said, staring at her. He sounded confused, almost in shock.
"We can talk about that in a minute," May said calmly. "For now, please, put the gun down."
"You don't understand," he said. "I have to be free. I don't want to live anymore! I don't want to be a monster!"
"Don't do anything you'll regret!" May emphasized to him.
She knew that it was always a risk when approaching a man with a gun. He could change his mind at any second and pull the trigger, before she had time to make the arrest. They still needed a confession from him, and to find out more information. He was only a suspect, and the guilt he was feeling might be from his past. There were many rational reasons why it was imperative for them to bring him in.
"I didn't mean to do it. It was like I couldn't help myself," he stammered.
"I’d like to hear more about that. We definitely need to talk about it. To discuss it," May said, talking even more calmly.
She had to try and keep him talking, to keep him focused, to get him off the precipice of tension where he was wobbling.
"Put the gun down, Coach Adamson. You can get the help you need," she urged.
A tear fell down the man's cheek.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen."
He was sweating heavily and his skin looked pale, almost as if he had been ill for some time. His outdoor tan had all but disappeared, drowned in the terrified pallor.
"Please, put the gun down," May said, fighting to hold her voice steady.
"I can't change what I did," he protested. "I can't change the past."
"None of us are able to do that," May said, trying to sound soothing, even though she didn't feel it inside. She thought that the guy was a violent bully and that he had serious blood on his hands. "You can get help. You don't have to do this."
"I have ruined my life. I have ruined so many other lives," he said, staring at the gun as if it represented his only remaining solution.
"Shooting yourself now is not the answer. We need to talk this through together now," May argued. She wanted to question him. She needed to know what had caused this man to go on a killing spree.
"But my life is over anyway. There's no way I can go on," he said, taking a step toward her. Her eyes narrowed as she saw his finger tighten.
"Maybe I should shoot you. Maybe I should shoot everyone. There's no point anymore."
May's eyes widened.
He was unpredictable, driven now by pure fear. May knew that he might shoot himself, but in his overwrought state, he could just as easily decide to turn the gun her way. In fact, with a shaking hand, he was doing just that, and now she was staring straight into the barrel.
"Don't do anything that you'll regret," she said again. Gathering all her courage, she stepped forward. "You really don't want to shoot me," she said kindly. "It would hurt a lot, and I would start yelling, and it would make a terrible mess in your office."
"I guess it would," he said, distracted by that thought.
"And you'd only end up in more trouble," May pushed. "All we need to do now is talk about this and find out the facts."
"Why do you keep saying I'll regret this?" he asked, agonized. "It's a sensible decision. My only one so far."
"Please!" she repeated, trying not to sound too forceful or too threatening. "Just set the gun down and we can talk about this."
Looking uncertain, he turned the barrel to face the wall. Now it was pointing at neither of them, and that was a huge improvement.
With a flash of relief May heard the clatter of footsteps behind her. The other officers had arrived.
Edwards and one of the other officers burst in the door and to May's utter relief, they had their guns drawn and were ready for him.
"Put the gun down, sir. Lower your weapon immediately," Edwards called out in a steady but commanding voice.