Sisters brothers murderer

The interrogation room was bright, cold, and bare. It was barely a ten-by-ten room with a desk, three chairs, and a mirror. The two detectives, John, an older, tall, overweight man, and Lisa, a young, pretty woman fresh out of the academy, had pushed Jean back into the corner. John took the lead, inching his chair closer and closer to Jean, crowding him, deliberately intimidating him. Jean was an extraordinarily thin young man in his mid-twenties. “Tell us again how you know this girl.” The big, burly man inched closer. “The truth will set you free, Jean,” said the young detective. “I told you when I walked in here that you wouldn’t believe me.” “Tell us again, Jean. You were walking down her street - you followed her down her Street-—”. “No -” John shifted his weight back, then thrust his head forward. “Jean, we know you know more. How do you know the when and the where if you were not there?” “I told you, I woke up screaming.” “You woke up screaming. Where were you when you did that?”