“Sorry, pal, but I have to take you in,” said Benner, who escorted Bobby out of the store and placed him in the back of the cruiser for the ten-minute ride to the police station in Bath.
Durst sat there with hands cuffed behind his back and mumbled to himself.
Benner couldn’t make out what he was saying, so he reached over and slowly turned down his police radio, wanting to hear every word.
Durst was looking out the car window, talking about age, and saying how stupid he was.
“I can’t believe this. I’m fifty-eight years old and get caught for theft! What an asshole! What an asshole!”
Benner couldn’t escape that voice, that shrill…”