Frank Jr. was fully aware that his plan was riddled with holes, completely vulnerable to scrutiny. Why wasn't Mr. Murphy handcuffed? Why was he sitting in the front passenger seat? Why was he wearing sunglasses and using a cane?
These were just a few of the inconsistencies. There could be even more if examined from a professional perspective, or from the viewpoint of someone who knows better. A moment of reflection would reveal the truth, unraveling the entire deception.
However, a skilled magician has the ability to turn something flawed into something extraordinary. From the moment Frank Jr. glimpsed Mr. Murphy and his son outside the window and decided to use them to bolster his lie, his brain kicked into high gear.
Some real scenes, some additional details—yet none of it truly convinced Karl, at least not completely. The FBI agent kept observing, scrutinizing, and spotting the gaping flaws was only a matter of time.
Decisive action!
Frank Jr. moved around Karl, walked to the other side, and briskly opened the window.
First, to disrupt the FBI agent's focus.
Second, to interrupt the agent's train of thought.
And third—
To seize the initiative.
"Hey, Murphy!"
Frank Jr. called out loudly.
Murphy, who was walking towards the driver's seat, looked up and waved in response, even though Frank Jr. didn't actually know his name. Using a last name was a safe bet.
Frank Jr. continued to shout, with a hint of complaint in his tone.
"Call the LAPD again, I don't want anyone entering my crime scene."
After speaking, Frank Jr. drew the curtain, blocking out Murphy's response, and turned back into the room, striding away from the window.
If Murphy responded loudly, the whole scheme would fall apart.
But Frank Jr. was betting—
He was betting that Murphy would be clueless, and that the FBI agent, still on high alert and watching his every move, would interpret his actions as a potential escape attempt. Naturally, this would divert the agent's attention away from the window, preventing any further focus on Murphy's reaction.
On a knife's edge.
As Frank Jr. turned around, he could feel the stiffness in his shoulder and arm muscles, and his walking posture showed a slight awkwardness. The calm and composed expression he had maintained finally betrayed a hint of panic when he turned his back on the FBI agent.
*Cough, cough!*
Frank Jr. coughed twice, clearing his throat as he walked towards the camera, but this time, his gaze didn't directly meet the lens; instead, it slightly averted.
This was a deliberate misalignment.
From the surveillance footage, it appeared that Anson was walking straight towards the camera, from a mid-range shot to a close-up, almost a full-face view. However, in reality, his path was slightly inwardly offset. Yet, the camera still captured his face coming into focus, growing larger as he approached.
No panic, no fear, but this time, the lines on his face were noticeably tense—
And then, the eyes.
Anson glanced at the door.
Steven noticed it. Anson was walking straight towards the camera, with every detail of his gaze played out on screen. Missing that would be odd.
It was just a glance, paired with the cough, the tense muscle lines, and other details—his entire state was now clearly communicated through the screen.
He was considering an escape.
If this entire set of actions still didn't fool the FBI agent, he was ready to bolt. The exit was right there, a step away from freedom.
Yet, he didn't.
Only a moment later did Steven realize the significance of that cough.
Of course, he was tense—anyone would be in such a situation. That scene was incredibly nerve-wracking, and the cough could reasonably be attributed to covering up his tension. But what if Frank Jr.'s cough was meant to mask Murphy's potential response, to disrupt Karl's hearing and avoid a last-minute failure?
Wow.
Steven's mind was racing—
Suddenly, Steven recalled the beginning of this scene—the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom. That was an action Frank Jr. had intentionally allowed Karl to notice, and it was also a detail they had discussed in advance.
But the next detail wasn't part of the plan.
The slow, deliberate sound of the faucet running after flushing, indicating that Frank Jr. was washing his hands. This added detail further confirmed the act of flushing the toilet, reinforcing the idea that he had just used the bathroom and wasn't some criminal suspect hiding inside.
See, that's how it works. Without these details, others wouldn't immediately notice anything amiss; they'd need time to calm down and think it through. But with these details, it all helps to form a cohesive and believable picture in their minds, making them more likely to trust it.
Step by step, from detail to detail—that's how Frank Jr. managed to deceive the FBI agent so convincingly, without breaking a sweat.
Steven made a decisive decision: after shooting this group of scenes, he would add an audio track of Murphy calling out and asking for information, overlapping it with Little Frank's coughing.
Perhaps in a movie theater, the audience wouldn't notice such details, but whether they exist or not can create different audio-visual experiences that evoke varied feelings.
Earlier, there were some noises, a glance.
Now, a cough, a glance.
These kinds of subtle details in the performances are everywhere, and they make the scene before us reasonable and compelling.
Waves were surging in Steven's mind, but the moment on screen was just a fleeting instant.
Little Frank glanced at the door.
But it was just a glance; his steps still headed towards the dining table. He didn't face the door directly, refusing to easily reveal his true intentions until the last moment.
It was in this fleeting instant that the tension in the entire room reached its peak—
Ready to explode.
The carefully crafted identity and atmosphere were on the verge of crumbling, and the camera clearly showed Little Frank holding his breath.
It was, in fact, just a fleeting moment, yet it felt like that instant before the start of a 100-meter Olympic final—air solidifying, hearts stopping, tension reaching its zenith.
Then.
A pause, and Little Frank was already at the fork in the road.
From behind came Carl's voice.
"I didn't expect the Bureau to get involved."
He believed it.
Finally.
Little Frank's steps paused imperceptibly for a moment. At the fork in the road, choosing whether to go left or right, he eventually chose left, heading towards the dining table.
Even though the escape route was close at hand, he ultimately didn't use it.
With a single step, Little Frank reached the table, picked up a glass, poured water, and gulped it down. But he had to restrain himself from appearing too eager or desperate. The taut string in his mind loosened slightly but didn't dare to completely relax.
"Don't worry."
This was an attempt to forgive the other party's caution and vigilance, then carefully start a counterattack.
"What's your name?"
The FBI agent had completely let down his guard, even putting away his gun.
"Hanratty, Carl Hanratty."
The nerves finally relaxed, so, what's the next move?
The cold water trickled down his throat, soothing his lungs, cooling his fevered brain. Even though he wanted to leave now, impatience and anxiety were his worst enemies.
So, he put down the glass, straightened his back slightly, turned to Carl, tilted his head, and his eyes lightly landed on Carl, roughly sizing him up.
"Sorry, may I see your badge?"
The tables have turned; the situation is reversed.