As he left, Layer kissed his wife and each of his children. He looked long at them, and said "goodbye" in such a way as to indicate he knew he might not soon return.

En route to Washburn, a ruse had been staged that might have been lifted from detective fiction. One of the several private investigators had been stationed beside the road. As the automobile carrying Layer and his captors approached, the detective jumped up and ran furtively across the road. Shouting, the officers jumped out and grabbed him.

At the jail, Layer and the fake fugitive were placed in close proximity. It was hoped that Layer might say something to his fellow "prisoner" that would be incriminating for him. Recording apparatus had been rigged to take down whatever he might say. Layer was in no mood to be talkative, however, so the ruse led to nothing.

Doggedly Layer maintained his innocence. That first night behind bars for him, there wasn't much questioning. But the next day it began in earnest.

Big Christ Martineson launched a relentless examination. "Where were you on Thursday, April 22?" he asked. "Why did you kill the Wolfs? Why did you kill them? Why? Why? Why?"

"Confess, Henry," urged Stefferud. "Confess now, because we all know you're the killer. Why did you do it, Henry? Why? Why? Why?"