Chapter 973: Restraint

“Cold case homicide? Which one?”

When Tao Lu heard the type of case, his interest immediately sparked. Even though he knew cold cases cost money—and hiring Jiang Yuan’s team would cost a fortune—he was more than willing to pay.

For any police bureau, solving a cold homicide case feels like a mission. Solving one adds another piece to that mission’s puzzle.

Jiang Yuan hesitated, not immediately naming the case, but first issuing a warning: “I’m not yet certain—just while examining fingerprints, I had a vague impression. Later, there was a partial match, but since the prints were incomplete and not decisive, whether to officially reopen the case remains questionable.”

Jiang Yuan added: “I may need about another day to confirm it, and I’ll probably need to locate people connected to the case and interrogate the suspects. I’m telling you ahead of time.”

After Jiang Yuan spoke so at length, not only Tao Lu but also Song Tiancheng’s expression grew unusually serious.

This was Jiang Yuan—when deciding whether to take on the Duanda Group case, he hadn’t said half this much. And look at Duanda Group’s stock—it’s already up 20%…

“Which case?” Tao Lu asked, already building mental defenses.

“The Jianmen Academy homicide.” Jiang Yuan, having prepared both leaders psychologically, stated the case name plainly.

Detectives like to keep secrets in their hearts, but secrets can’t be too big—they can kill you.

Tao Lu and Song Tiancheng exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting and instantly withdrawing, neither willing to reveal what they were thinking.

“Do you really have confidence in this?” Tao Lu felt his mind was in chaos today. Earlier, Jiang Yuan mentioned Zhang Weili, and he couldn’t recall who that was; now Jiang Yuan mentioned the Jianmen Academy homicide, and he remembered instantly—so clearly his ability to form words collapsed again.

The Jianmen Academy homicide was a late-1990s murder. Jianmen Academy was just the location—unremarkable. The core lay in the victim’s noble status.

Jiang Yuan thought for a moment: “I’m ninety percent sure the fingerprints match. I can review them more carefully later. But…”

“A fingerprint match doesn’t mean the case is solved!” Tao Lu cut straight to the point.

Jiang Yuan nodded: “True.”

Tao Lu’s frown deepened further.

Song Tiancheng’s expression was grim.

How could a twenty-year-old cold case be solved?

In truth, solving old cold cases followed a fixed pattern—or rather, fixed prerequisites.

First, there must be new discoveries. The most common types are three: one is technological breakthroughs—like DNA technology, which solved many old rape cases and drastically reduced their occurrence.

The second is accidental findings—commonly, criminals revealing accomplices to gain leniency. Jiang Yuan’s fingerprint discovery falls into this category.

The third is investigation of family or associates. The Nanjing Medical College rape-murder case, for example, was solved when former classmates cross-referenced information. Similarly, progress in the Tsinghua Zhu Ling case relied heavily on the victim’s university classmates.

But among these three prerequisites, accidental findings carry the greatest risk.

Because such findings are rarely decisive evidence; most often, police get only leads, requiring further effort to find actual proof.

Especially in cases twenty or thirty years old, without physical evidence, relying solely on someone’s word puts enormous risk on the suspect—and poses a grave threat to society as a whole.

If a single person’s word alone could convict someone, who doesn’t have a lifelong enemy? Who wouldn’t wait for a dying moment to strike?

For ordinary homicide cold cases, reopening based on a lead is common.

But the Jianmen Academy homicide carries risks far beyond ordinary.

Tao Lu couldn’t help saying: “Jiang Yuan, if this is the case, I don’t recommend reopening the case—certainly not directly.”

Jiang Yuan wasn’t surprised; he merely glanced at Song Tiancheng.

Song Tiancheng’s expression remained unchanged, as if he hadn’t heard.

Tao Lu emphasized: “I know you’re confident, but this isn’t just about solving a case. Let me tell you a story—you might not believe it: the Jianmen Academy homicide never had a single key suspect. The criminal investigation team never arrested anyone even remotely suspected.”

Jiang Yuan sat up straighter.

To be honest, a case like this might remain unsolved—but to have no key suspect at all? That was highly abnormal.

Especially when a case drags on without breakthroughs, the usual response is to round up a large group of people for mass interrogation to extract leads.

Jiang Yuan had used similar tactics many times—arresting related criminals and using their connections to uncover leads. He often deployed them aggressively.

“The Jianmen Academy homicide didn’t even do a sweep?” Jiang Yuan was genuinely surprised.

“We did a small-scale sweep, but no large-scale one—there simply weren’t enough leads at the time,” Tao Lu said seriously. “Back then, homicides were relatively common. The victim’s… family requested no public disruption, no citywide manhunt.”

Jiang Yuan: “But isn’t it up to the police? If the police needed a large sweep, couldn’t they do it?”

“Of course they could,” Tao Lu said softly. “There was no solid basis for a large sweep back then. But for a case of this level, a sweep could have been a viable strategy. Still, it was rejected.”

“What did the special task force think?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but under the conditions then, a large sweep probably wouldn’t have helped much. Still, the task force didn’t exhaust every possible method!”

Song Tiancheng, seeing they’d reached this point, added: “I agree with Chief Tao. Back then, the victim’s family were extremely restrained. Of course, the police did their best—investing massive resources—but we must respect the victim’s family’s emotions. Reopening the case recklessly would be a second trauma to them—and harmful to our work.”

“I understand,” Jiang Yuan truly understood. If a case remained unsolved without any effort, that could be understood. But if it remained unsolved without exhausting every possible method? Only the victim’s family could have been this restrained.

Under these circumstances, if the police reopened the case and failed—or if the investigation dragged on—it would be a deeply painful experience for the victim’s family.

Given the victim’s status, if you hurt them, they won’t just laugh it off.

“Then let’s start with a preliminary investigation?” Jiang Yuan himself had planned a small-scale restart—this was just a procedural matter.

Tao Lu immediately nodded: “We can start with interrogations. You found whose fingerprints? Pull that person out first. Use any of my people as you need.”

“Just assign them directly to my cold case unit,” Jiang Yuan said bluntly. “I need an official designation. My own team doesn’t know Beijing well—they need local detectives to guide them.”

Tao Lu gave Jiang Yuan a long look: “Assigning them to you is fine, but don’t take them away.”

“I won’t. Who’d leave the Public Security Bureau to go to the countryside?”

“Of course no one wants the countryside—but Ningtai is different,” Tao Lu said, dropping the issue. “Pick whoever you want. I’ll handle the Duanda case slowly—we each take our own piece.”