1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 37 This is Felton
"Go away!"

Perhaps the wind at high altitude was too strong, distorting Roy's face and making him look even more ferocious.

"You bunch of lowly people! Inferior people! Get out of my way! Get out of my way!"

He shouted and staggered as he charged toward the workers.

Under the indifferent gaze of the workers, his body swayed more and more violently.

With a series of creaking sounds, he could no longer maintain his balance.

Amidst gasps of alarm, Roy's feet lost their footing, and the repulsive, ugly, and hateful faces rapidly shrank, making him feel as if he were flying.

He didn't like this feeling; it made him feel like he had no control at all.

…………

Roy fell from a great height, bounced a few times on the ground like a tattered sack, and then collapsed, only to be hit by falling railings and other objects.

This has significantly increased the difficulty of the forensic doctors' work.

The forensic pathologist was brought by Wenner himself, and he has taken over command at the scene.

Wenner had the oil well's finances confiscated, but did not order any interrogation.

Soon, the oil company's people arrived and began negotiating with Wenner, trying to regain control of the site.

Soon after, members of the oilfield workers' union arrived. They organized people to rescue the trapped workers while simultaneously pestering the oil company personnel, demanding a safe working environment.

There were three groups of people at the scene, and things quickly descended into chaos.

Wenner invited representatives from the union and the oil company into the room to negotiate.

Outsiders had no way of knowing how they negotiated, but after they came out, the detained accountant was handed over to the oil company, and the union representative announced to the workers that the oil company would purchase safety insurance for all workers.

Union representatives reminded workers that anyone who hasn't purchased safety insurance should report it to the union, and they will help resolve the issue.

At this time, union management was entirely handled by industry insiders, with very few professional managers being hired. They truly represented the interests of union members, not the interests of the "union".

On the way back to the station, the three of them chattered about why Roy killed Hank and Billy.

Theodore believed that Roy had been blackmailed after being caught by two older workers for using inferior materials during procurement.

Hank's appetite grew, and the amount he demanded increased until Roy could no longer bear it and committed murder.

He even speculated that Billy witnessed Roy killing Hank the night he did.

His reasoning was simple: after Hank died, Roy gave Billy Hank's share of the hush money.

Bernie thought Theodore's guess was too far-fetched. Sam, however, admitted that Theodore was right in part.

Two days later, the oil company's expert panel's assessment confirmed Theodore's suspicions.

They discovered structural safety risks to the oil well derrick and recommended that it be reinforced before reopening operations.

"So this is a murder case caused by shoddy workmanship."

Bernie summed up the case in one sentence, thus concluding the case.

As it was nearing the end of the workday, Sam finished writing the case report, organized all the materials, and stacked them on the table. He then invited Theodore and Bernie to go to a bar to celebrate.

He was in charge of the case; Theodore and Bernie were just helping out.

Theodore and Bernie did not refuse, and the three of them chose Old Gun Bar as their destination.

The bar owner was delighted to see them arrive and treated them to their first round of drinks for free.

After several rounds of drinks, Sam was already a little tipsy and gradually let loose.

The conversation inadvertently drifted to Sam's soon-to-return partner.

Sam admired his partner's choice and respected his courage in making it. Bernie, on the other hand, disliked his partner, considering him a traitor obsessed with infiltrating the FBI.

A drunk detective at the next table overheard the conversation and slurred, "That's the FBI! Dude! Who wouldn't want to join the FBI!"

Bernie's gaze lingered briefly on his protruding belly before he shook his head and said, "I'm afraid you can't."

Hoover required FBI agents to wear conservative dark suits, white shirts, and ties, maintaining a neat and clean appearance to project an image of "elite law enforcement."

He also demanded that agents be prohibited from drinking alcohol, gambling, or engaging in activities that could damage the FBI's reputation, and that agents have no criminal record or moral blemishes; agents must also report their marriages in advance.

The detective, somewhat embarrassed and annoyed, started shouting, which quickly attracted the attention of the surrounding drunks, who joined the discussion.

They were divided into two factions: one faction believed that participating in the FBI selection process was a sign of ambition, while the other faction believed it was a betrayal.

Neither group could convince the other, so they started playing darts, billiards, and rocking horses. They also arm wrestled and drank heavily.

Initially, the competition between the two sides revolved around the core contradiction of the dispute, but gradually fewer and fewer people mentioned it.

In the end, everyone got drunk and forgot what they were arguing about at the beginning. They just kept staring at each other as they were forced to drink. Every time someone on the other side vomited, they would cheer.

The party lasted until after 2 a.m., and there wasn't a single person left standing in the bar.

Looking at the drunkards scattered on the ground, the bar owner limped around and sorted the crowd, recognizing most of them.

He put those who insisted on going home together, called a nearby patrol officer to drive them home, and left the rest on the table to spend the night at the bar.

Upstairs from Old Gun Bar.

It's quiet here, unlike the chaotic scene downstairs.

Director Widek, Kahol, Wenner, and a Silver Badge member from headquarters gathered together.

“The oil companies are very dissatisfied,” a member from headquarters said. “They had to compromise with the oil workers’ union and promise to buy safety insurance for the workers.”

"They are pressuring the city government to hand over two influential people to take responsibility."

No sooner had the man finished speaking than Kahor jumped up, exclaiming, "That's impossible!"

"Why should we hand over people just because they say so? That's impossible!"

The silver-badged member at headquarters tapped the table. "Just because this is Felton."

Kahor felt as if he had been choked, and he looked at Wenner. "Julian, say something! They're all your men!"

Wenner didn't even look at Kahor, simply saying, "They are all members of the FOP."

He took off the silver medal and placed it on the table. "If this is FOP's decision, I respect it."

Seeing Wenner stand up, Chief Widek waved for him to sit down, but then brought up something else.

"I was just about to apply to headquarters to have you come over and serve as deputy commissioner of police..."

After seeing off the people from headquarters, Widek chatted with Wenner.

"You think highly of that young man?"

Wenner nodded. "He is one of my key talents; he is very gifted."

He considered it carefully, and finally said, "He seems to have been born for this purpose."

Widek glanced back at Kahor, who was pouring himself a drink, and turned his head to say...

"I hope you're right. That position was originally meant for you."

Wenner downed his drink in one gulp. "You won't be disappointed."

(End of this chapter)