丈夫干的

百分之99的概率都是丈夫干的。这是永恒不变的真理，无论你是德黑兰的治安官还是卡拉马祖的。妻子失踪了？肯定是丈夫干的。警察被训练出来视野就是狭窄的。
Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the husband did it. It's a universal truth, whether you're a constable in Tehran or Kalamazoo. Missing wife? The husband did it. Tunnel vision is a fixture of police training.
任何动机都能套上去。经济问题？偶尔的吵架？咱们别浪费任何公共资源，关起来等他招供再说
Any motive will suffice. Financial troubles? Occasional angry arguments? Let's not waste any more public resources – lock this guy under hot bulbs 'til he spills.

假如他不招供。假如他坚持自己的故事-看起来是个奇迹-每次招供之间细节没差多大。妻子的尸体从没找到过。没有直接证据证明丈夫杀了她。
But say he doesn't confess. Say he stubbornly sticks to his story – fantastical as it may seem – the details unaltered between tellings. The wife's body is never recovered. There's no direct evidence to declare definitively that hubby offed her.
他还是得去监狱。随机入室抢劫不可能再现实中发生，

He still goes to jail. Random home invasions just don't happen in real life.
我在我报警的那一刻就知道这一切。但我还能干什么？
I knew all this, of course, when I phoned the police. But what else could I do?
当我放弃申请律师后，审问者露出了微笑。当我解释了情况，在他记下我所有可以记得的记忆后，时不时点点头，称赞我的勇敢，我知道他不信我。
When I forwent a lawyer, the interrogator stifled a smile. As I explained the situation, as he marked down every detail my memory could muster, nodding appreciatively, commending my bravery, I knew he didn't believe a word of it.

他叫了另一个警察，叫我重复证词，从头开始，我照做了。
When he called in another officer, who asked me to repeat my account, from the top, I complied.
”我们在床上睡觉“我说道，”之后音乐响起“
“We were asleep in bed,” I told him, “when the music started.”
”音乐？“
“The music?”
”太尼·蒂姆的“我回到，是的新的尤克里里琴歌手和一个在强尼·卡森脱口秀上的女人结婚了。我知道这听起来很荒谬。之后我随口唱了下那首歌。”困扰你的事情从未困扰我，我很开心且很好，呼哈！“
“Tiny Tim,” I answered. Yes, the novelty ukulele singer who married a woman on Johnny Carson. I was aware how ridiculous it sounded. And then I imitated the song, complete with falsetto voice, “Things that bother you never bother me, I feel happy and fine, huh-hah!”

警察停下手中的笔。他看向我。”之后呢？“
The policeman's pen halted. He looked up at me. “And then?”
”气泡机“
“The bubble machine.”
”气泡？“他质疑到，早就认定我在浪费他时间。
“Bubbles?” He hissed the question. Already decided I was wasting his time.
”如果你搜查一下我的住所，我敢肯定到处都是泡沫--“
“Please, if you perform even a cursory search of my residence, I'm sure there will be soap residue all over--”

”之后呢？“
“--And then?”
”三个武装分子出现。穿着潜水服。戴着橡胶动物面具。羊、兔子和马。他们捆住她的手。给我注射了什么东西。我不知道是啥，但我感觉很困。“
“Three armed men appeared. In scuba suits. Wearing rubber animal masks. A goat, a rabbit, and a horse. They bound her hands. Injected me with something, I don't know what, but I felt myself getting groggy...”
”抱歉，我们得暂时离开一会“他说到。从座位上起身。
“--Excuse me a moment,” he said, rising from his seat.

没有必要告诉他剩下的故事。
There was no point in telling him the rest.
过去的15年我每天都在想象被锁在铁栏后的情景。
The things I've pictured every night these past fifteen years, locked behind iron bars.
在他们把黑色塑料袋套在我妻子身上的时候，我的妻子的眼睛充满了恐惧。
The terrified look in my wife's eyes, gleaming, wide-pupiled, as they lowered the black bag over her head, tightening the drawstring about her throat.

兔子男一边咯咯笑一边一边把她扛在肩上，她无力的踢着腿，他把她拖到黑色轿车的后备箱里。
How the Rabbit-Man, giggling, heaved her over his shoulder, legs kicking uselessly, and hauled her outside to the waiting trunk of a nondescript black sedan. 
羊面具人打开自己的工具文包，里面装着各式各样的工具，有些是牙医的、有些是砍树的，其他单纯是为了折磨。
How the Goat-Man opened a briefcase of rusty tools, spiked, jagged, sharp – some for dentistry, some for carpentry, others with no possible purpose besides torture.

重复马面具人的话毫无意义，他礼貌性的拍了一下我的头。在转身离开前说了这么一句话。
Certainly there was no point in repeating the final words the Horse-Man said, patting me politely on the head, before turning heel and stepping out of my life forever:
”没人会相信你说的一切，小子“
“No one will believe any of this, boy-o.”
确实没有
And no one ever did.