"You didn't kill him because he was American, Kenny," Fitz growled, the smoke from his cigarette curling like a physical manifestation of his thoughts. "You killed him because he was loud. Because the whole damn world is looking at them, and nobody is looking at you."
Dr. Edward "Fitz" Fitzgerald was always a man out of time, but in the autumn of 2006, the world had finally become as ugly and fragmented as his own psyche. Returning to a gray, rain-slicked Manchester from a self-imposed exile in Australia, Fitz found a city he barely recognized. He was back for his daughter Katy's wedding, dragging along his long-suffering wife Judith and their youngest son. But Fitz did not do domestic bliss. He did whiskey, chain-smoking, high-stakes gambling, and the dissection of human misery. "Cracker" Nine Eleven(2006)
The breaking point didn't come with a grand political statement. It came in a comedy club. "You didn't kill him because he was American,
The Greater Manchester Police were out of their depth, paralyzed by the fear that this was the opening salvo of an international terrorist cell targeting Western interests. Desperate, they called in the only man who could see past the global headlines and into the gutter: Fitz. Edward "Fitz" Fitzgerald was always a man out
Kenny stared back, the bravado of his violence evaporating under Fitz's relentless, invasive gaze. Fitz stripped away the grand illusions of political martyrdom, leaving Kenny naked with the realization that he was just another pathetic, lonely murderer.