The saga of the Blade Runner. You couldn't make it up. Sometimes reality really is stranger and more complicated than fiction. If you did make this one up, no one would believe it.
Infant born without the fibula bone. Legs amputated at the age of one. Grows up to become a world-class runner using carbon-fiber blades.
Shoots his girlfriend on Valentine's Day. He claims it was fear (sounds improbable) that sent him into a shooting frenzy. The police claim it was anger (seems more plausible). Beautiful model-girlfriend sitting on the toilet, locked in the bathroom, ends up dead with three bullets in her body.
The shooter is young, rich, handsome, a hero, a celebrity. And he walks out on bail. Something just doesn't seem right about that. A normal person, or a poor person, the Average Joe, you just know that kind of guy would be rotting in a jail cell waiting for his day in court.
Blade Runner sobs uncontrollably in court. The tears are probably real. Even if he did shoot in anger, you think in the cold light of day, the dude would like those bullets back. People are forgiving. Guns and bullets are not. We have a dead girl. And a shooter. A simple case. An improbable saga.