9:14 p.m. tonight, Detective, my heart rate was a steady, resting 58 beats per minute,” I said smoothly. “My respiratory rate was 12 breaths per minute, and my device’s internal GPS was statically pinging my apartment’s private Wi-Fi router exactly 12 miles away from the intersection of Fourth and Elm. I was asleep on my couch.”
Vance stared at the graph.
He didn’t blink.
He was a veteran cop. He knew that smartwatch telemetry was increasingly being used by the FBI to establish irrefutable alibis in homicide cases.
