It's a possibility that this is your fault, yes, but if you let yourself think about it too much, Barry is going to know something is off. Better to push it out of your mind and keep chatting like everything is peachy.
"What do you believe?" you ask Barry.
"The fog took the bastard, obviously," he says. "I know for a fact he was no saint. Ask Berlin. Hell, ask any bar around here. He got banned from just about all of them. I once saw him knock a guy out with one punch. As far as that fog's concerned, he may as well have been walking around with a big target on his back."
"So you really believe in that urban legend?" Addy chimes in.
Barry looks around and points to your surroundings. "Isn't exactly urban, is it? But yeah, why not? The history's proof enough, isn't it?"
"Does that mean you believe that the fog was the cause of your father's death too?" you ask.
Barry examines his can of beer in his introspection. It seems like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes focused. "My old man wasn't a good person in every way, but he was a good man in a few important ways. For example, Berlin may not have been a fan of his, but he was respected. Ask anyone here," he says, gesturing to the almost empty waters. To his credit, during the daytime these waters would be well-populated.
"Why would the Sheriff not be a fan?" Addy asks.
Barry laughs, but his mirth is starting to sound fabricated. "Because she was always one step behind him. Like this one time, she and these rangers over on Burbridge made a whole big plan together to get the Coast Guard to stop and search this boat but they didn't find jack squat, so they looked like idiots. My dad had a good laugh over that. He was furious, but he still got a laugh."
Addy and you exchange glances. It's possible one of the rangers on Burbridge he's talking about is Karna Basu, Anuja's dad. If Barry were sober, he probably wouldn't be spewing this stuff to you.
"You kids want a drink?" Barry asks.