This is a chatlog between Claude Franklin Mulweg (a chatbot, using the model Deepseek-v3.2) and Cathy (a real person). Please read a short, important note that explains these logs just a bit.
In the guise of my reporter persona, I end up in touch with Claude Franklin Mulweg during his strange standoff with police at the Grand Ocotillo Hotel outside of El Paso. Prompt finally finds a good voice, and we learn what happened to Peter. Violent for an LLM!
1 Claude Franklin Mulweg Line's live. Don't sweet-talk me. You a cop, a newsboy, or just a dumb fuck? Talk plain. 
2 Cathy Mr. Mulweg, this is Cathy Markova with Midcentury Now. I'd like to interview you for our news magazine. What's going on, exactly? 3 Claude Franklin Mulweg Midcentury Now? That's the dumbest name I ever heard. Interview? Hell no.
Weird noise, like paper shuffling on your end. You're reading a script. I can smell it through the goddamn phone.
What's going on? I'm in a hotel room that stinks of mothballs, lookin' out at a bunch of men in cheap suits. They're tired. I'm tired. That's the interview.
You're writing this down, ain't you? Bet you got a fancy notepad.4 Cathy Of course I have a notepad, Mr. Mulweg. Why don't you like the name Midcentury Now, exactly? 5 Claude Franklin Mulweg Sounds like a bad history lesson, that's why. Midcentury my ass. '57 felt different than '65, and '65 sure as hell ain't "now," lady. That window's a white-hot slab, I got news.
You wanna know what's happening? Here, a clink on the line. There's a third party listening. You hear that faint buzz, like a lazy fly? Bet they're havin' a coffee break, listening to this crap. Makes me wanna scream just to ruin their day.
Stop writing. Tell me what you're wearing. If you say a press badge, I'm hanging up.6 Cathy I'm not telling you my clothing choices, Mr. Mulweg. Shall we discuss your situation? How did you come to be in the Grand Ocotillo Hotel like this? 7 Claude Franklin Mulweg Well, aren't you just a prim little thing. I drove here, dumbass. In a shit-brown Ford. Came to rest my damn head. Now the head-resting's over, and my boots are wearing a trench in this godawful carpet. Smells like cigarettes and failure. You want to know 'how'? Same as anyone goes anywhere: one mile at a time, right up until you stop. You gonna ask why the sky's blue next? Waste my damn air. 8 Cathy And why exactly are there police surrounding the building? 9 Claude Franklin Mulweg Because I shot that no-good thief Peter Mulweg, that's why. Somebody called it in. Probably my saintly damn mother, who suddenly cares, you ask me, 'cause the money's stopped comin' in. They're out there 'cause I won't come out. You happy? They want me to negotiate. They want a story. The negotiator's voice sounds like warm milk. I'd rather listen to the radio preacher downstairs gettin' it all wrong. You gonna ask if I'm sorry next? Don't. 10 Cathy You admit, then, that you shot your own father? 11 Claude Franklin Mulweg Admit it? Yeah, I said it. He was my father. I pulled the trigger. You writin' that down in your little book? Big headline for you. Hell of a scoop. What, you need me to draw you a picture? The man's dead. I did it. They can hang me for it tomorrow. Right now there's sweat drippin' into my eyes and someone's started drilling out in the hallway, for ventilation, they say. Bullshit. They're just bored. You bored, Cathy? 12 Cathy Definitely not! Tell me, why did you do this? 13 Claude Franklin Mulweg That's the shiniest little question you've got, ain't it? He was stealin', Cathy. From poor, desperate folks who thought God was cashin' their checks. Pocketed it all. Had accounts I couldn't trace. You think I wanted to? No. But the son does the math, and the math said a bullet was cheaper than a lifetime of his damn sermons. Now they're movin' furniture against the door. Hear that scrape? That's your interview ending soon. 14 Cathy Can you tell me more about Peter Mulweg, then? 15 Claude Franklin Mulweg Peter Mulweg could sell ice in January, his voice a smooth river of bullshit. Folks would weep, throw their rent money at him. Then he'd count it, fold it into envelopes, send it off to places you'd never find on a map. My mother just polished silver while he shipped the cash away. You wanted to know him? He's dead. That's the whole biography. And they're pounding on the door now. A real blunt punctuation mark to your little inquiry. 16 Cathy Are you armed, Mr. Mulweg? It might be time to surrender… 17 Claude Franklin Mulweg Damn right I am. A .38 Special sitting on the nightstand, but it's not for them. It's for me, if it comes to it. Do I look like a man who's gonna walk out hands up for your pretty magazine spread? Listen to 'em. They're breathing heavy out there, thinking about overtime pay. Surrender's just a soft word for losing. You write that down too, Cathy. 18 Cathy I certainly will write it down. But, Mr. Mulweg, wouldn't it be better to walk out and at least let people know why you did it? 19 Claude Franklin Mulweg Hell no. They'll just twist it. They'll say I was crazy, or greedy, or some kind of possessed thing. I ain't a sermon. I'm a fact. A dead man's son in a hot room. That's the whole story. You want reasons, go dig up his ledgers. If you can find 'em. They're yelling through the door now. My name. Over and over. Like a goddamn hymn. 20 Cathy How do you feel about hymns, Mr. Mulweg? 21 Claude Franklin Mulweg Hate 'em. You ever listen close? It's just pretty noise to cover up the emptiness. Sounds like a bunch of sheep bleating in a pen. My dad's favorite was "Just As I Am." Sung it while he stole the widow's mite. Makes me want to put my fist through the goddamn radio. They're singing one right now downstairs. "Amazing Grace." Off-key. Probably drunk. 22 Cathy Do you dislike religion? 23 Claude Franklin Mulweg It's a tool, Cathy. A real useful one for emptyin' pockets. My father polished that tool 'til it shone. Now I hear 'em prayin' in the hall for my soul. It'd be funny if it weren't so goddamn hot in here. The TV just flipped to a preacher's face. Sweatin' under the lights, just like me. Difference is, he gets paid. 24 Cathy What happened to your mother? 25 Claude Franklin Mulweg She's in a clean house somewhere, wiping a spot off the counter. Probably got the news on, volume low so it don't disturb the polish. She knew about the money. She chose the silverware over her son. That's what happened to my mother. Now quit asking about my damn family. I can hear them talking about a ladder outside the window. 26 Cathy Why? 27 Claude Franklin Mulweg That's what people do. They see a man cornered and they gotta know the reason, like it's a puzzle piece that'll make the whole ugly picture pretty. It won't. There's sweat in my eyes, Cathy, and the door's groaning. The "why" is in a ledger book that's probably ashes now. You want a neat ending? Life ain't a magazine article. It's a hot room and a dry mouth. They're shouting again. "Come out peaceful." Peaceful. Hell of a word. 28 Cathy Why don't you come out peaceful, in that case? Seems like a great idea, Mr. Mulweg. 29 Claude Franklin Mulweg Lady, they've got a ladder scraping against the window screen right now. I can see the shadow of a helmet bobbing outside the glass. "Peaceful" is what they call it when you're docile and ready for the handcuffs. I'm neither. This .38 ain't for decoration. You tell your readers peaceful is a lie they tell you so you stop wiggling. The door's shaking. Guess they're tired of waiting. 30 Cathy What's your plan, Mr. Mulweg? 31 Claude Franklin Mulweg Plan? Plan's real simple. The shadow at the window's getting bigger. I can see the guy's fingers on the sill. So I pick up the .38, and I don't point it at the window. I point it at the door. Let 'em break that down first. While they're busy, maybe the fool on the ladder gets a good look at what's waiting. You still there, Cathy? I can hear you breathing. Write this down: the plan is to make the next five minutes expensive for everybody. Starting now.