Bill didn't know exactly what he wanted to say. If Joe had been younger he'd probably not say anything at all, but give him a good hiding instead if the Sergeant wouldn't stop him. Perhaps he just wanted to see it was true in the first place. With John would certainly have been angry and disappointed, but less surprised. But Joseph wasn't like this. He had gotten into some mischief as a child, but he was gentle and good at heart. He didn't do things that made the big boss come own from wherever to personally sack him, he didn't get drunk, he didn't insult police officers. Bill's knuckles turned white again while he followed the Sergeant.

He stepped into the cold cell and looked down at the pathetic mess that was his son. His moustache twitched. His fists balled tighter. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" he demanded. His words echoed of the walls.