— I wanna know something, Mildred. Why'd you drill a hole through poor fat Geoffrey's thumbnail?
— That did not happen. His hand slipped. He drilled a hole through his own self. Did he say I did it? I guess it's his word against mine, then, huh? Kinda like in all those rape cases you hear about.
— I'd do anything to catch the guy who did it, Mrs. Hayes. But when the DNA don't match no one who's ever been arrested, and when the DNA don't match any other crime nationwide, and when there wasn't a single eyewitness from the time she'd left your house to the time we found her, well... right now there ain't too much more we can do.
— Could pull blood from every man and boy in this town over the age of eight.
— There's civil rights laws prevents that, Mrs. Hayes. And what if he was just passing through town?
— Pull blood from every man in the country, then.
— Then what if he was just passing through the country?
— If it was me, I'd start up a database. Every male baby what's born, stick them on it, and as soon as he done something wrong, cross-reference it, make 100% certain it was a correct match, then kill him.
— Yeah, well, there's... definitely civil rights laws prevents that.