Empire of Shadows

"Help me notify a few people," Mr. Charles said, mentioning several names. He believed that, given the lawyer's position in the Golden Port City legal industry, he would have heard of these people.

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"It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I want to reduce unnecessary trouble," he said, looking at the lawyer, who was recording the names he'd mentioned.

In fact, lawyers often encounter this kind of situation when handling cases. They don't dislike double insurance, and even hope that the people Mr. Charles mentioned can directly help him settle the case.

This way, the lawyer only does a little bit of work, but gets paid in full, making a huge profit.

After recording the names, he prompted, "I can't be by your side during the questioning at the prosecutor's office. If you encounter any questions you're unsure about, you can refuse to answer and request to see me."

"I won't leave until the questioning is over. I'll be waiting for your results in the lobby."

Mr. Charles nodded, and finally the lawyer turned and left the room.

The prosecutor outside came in and gestured for Mr. Charles to follow him. They walked through a corridor to a room that seemed to be of a slightly higher grade.

There was a table in the room, with chairs on both sides.

The staff motioned for him to sit on the chair facing the door, and then left.

After about four or five minutes, several prosecutors came into the room.

"Mr. Charles?"

Mr. Charles nodded, his gaze lingering on the prosecutors for a moment, memorizing their appearances.

As someone at the very top of the city's pyramid, even if these prosecutors were acting officially, Mr. Charles felt he was suffering the biggest, most malicious offense in his life!

He looked at these people, unable to detect any negative emotions or ferocity, but his eyes revealed a hint of chilling aura.

The prosecutors acted as if they hadn't noticed, and sat down behind the table in front of him.

Then the prosecutor in the middle opened the file bag he had brought with him, and took out some documents, including photos and some paper records.

"Do you recognize this girl?" he asked, first showing a photo of a girl.

"She looks familiar," he said, following the lawyer's instructions to say what he knew.

Although soliciting prostitutes is a "crime," for wealthy people like them, the privileged class, this crime is like singing in the shower at night, and won't bring him irreparable consequences.

Of course, he didn't immediately say he recognized her, even though he'd ordered her at least twice.

The prosecutor nodded, then presented another document, handing it to the staff member beside him.

The staff member took the document to Mr. Charles and showed it to him.

But it was enough to present the matter to people as it was.

Looking at these words, Mr. Charles couldn't help but curse a few times.

He wasn't cursing the prosecutors, but those damn managers at Red High Heels, and that girl!

At the same time, he also felt some horror and fear. If Red High Heels had a notebook, would other companies specializing in Bay Area entertainment also have similar things?

"Do you admit that the content above is true?" the prosecutor asked again.

There was a tape recorder on site. Mr. Charles hesitated for a while, but finally nodded, "I admit it, what it says above is true."

They then listed some actual evidence of his solicitation, including photos of the girl, specific notebook content, and even a check!

Looking at his signature on the check, and the prosecutor saying they had extracted his fingerprints from it, he really didn't want to say anything.

"I admit to all the crimes you've charged…"

He was very cooperative, not wanting to make things too big for a small and insignificant crime.

After the prosecutors discussed it, the prosecutor in the middle asked, "Mr. Charles, your attitude is very cooperative and friendly, we will write that in the report we submit to the court. Now there is a question."

Mr. Charles nodded, "Can I have a cigarette?"

The prosecutor had a staff member give him a cigarette. He took a puff, feeling slightly relaxed, "Please, what's the question?"

"Because you have already pleaded guilty, according to our current procedure, the next step is to go through court trial and give you the punishment you deserve."

"The question now is, do you want us to submit the case to the expedited court, or to the City Third Court?"

Court One and Court Two are used to try serious criminal cases. Criminal cases, or some special cases, will introduce a jury system, where the jury decides whether the defendant is guilty.

This requires the court's layout and decoration to be different from ordinary courts. They need to arrange accommodation for the jury, and build a confidential soundproof room for them to discuss freely and without external influence.

But not all cases require jury involvement.

For example, non-criminal cases, those special cases with huge impact, will not introduce a jury, so there are special courts for these cases, and the judges are also different.

In addition, there is also the expedited court.

According to the regulations of the Federal Department of Justice, cases with a sentence limit of one year can be tried through the expedited court.

Of course, the expedited court can also have defense lawyers, and most cases that go through the expedited court are cases where the evidence is conclusive and the defendant has already pleaded guilty, so the trial speed will be very fast.

The judge may just look at the file, ask a few questions, and then pronounce the sentence.

Mr. Charles knew a little about these things, but not much. He shook his head, "I need to discuss it with my lawyer."

The prosecutor agreed to his request, and soon he saw his lawyer again, and told his lawyer what the prosecutor had just said.

The lawyer instinctively sensed that something was wrong, but he couldn't say what was wrong.

"You can choose the time for the expedited court, and the procedure can be completed quickly. For example, if you have time tomorrow, you can go to trial tomorrow and pronounce the sentence in court."

"If we go through the city standard court, we need to schedule a date. If we're lucky, we can go to court next week. If we're unlucky, we may have to wait two or three weeks, or even longer."

"And it's possible that the sentence won't be pronounced in court, and we'll have to continue waiting for the process. Things here are not very clear."

For example, if the prosecutor suddenly says they want to supplement evidence, the judge will definitely choose to adjourn the court and reschedule the hearing, giving the prosecutor enough time to supplement the evidence.

"This process may be relatively long, because you have already pleaded guilty, so they will detain you until the verdict comes out."

Mr. Charles frowned, "Can I be bailed out?"

"I don't want to stay here for a day!"

The lawyer shook his head, "When you went to be questioned just now, I already asked, and they temporarily rejected your bail."

Mr. Charles was very dissatisfied, but he also knew he shouldn't lose his temper with the lawyer, "After you go out, immediately contact the names and numbers I gave you, and have them move as well."

Saying that, he paused for a moment, "If we go through the expedited court, can I get out very quickly?"

This time the lawyer hesitated, "Theoretically, that's how it is."

But he didn't know what the actual situation was.

Mr. Charles walked back and forth a few steps. He thought for a long time, and finally decided to go through the expedited court.

If Mayor Williams' ability can influence the fairness of the judicial department in the city, then whether it's the expedited court or the city court, the final result is the same.

He turned to look at the lawyer, "If we are dissatisfied with the result, we can appeal, right?"

The lawyer nodded again in agreement, "It just so happens that the appeals court in our area is in Manton."

"If we choose to appeal, we can go to Manton and fight the case with them."

Mr. Charles had no more questions. He had many connections in Manton who could help him solve this small problem.

Using him, in lawyer's terms, this is just a "solicitation of prostitution" charge, not even close to being evil!

"Then we'll go to expedited court."

With this decision, the prosecutor's office immediately began arranging things for him. Of course, he wouldn't be able to leave that night; he would be detained at the prosecutor's office until the court hearing.

Soon, the prosecutor sent over overnight necessities and took him to a private room.

Looking at the small and simple room, he cursed a few times, sat on the bed board, and closed his eyes.

He thought it was just Mayor Williams' little trick to disgust him, but what he didn't know was that he wasn't the only one arrested on the same charge.

Not far from him, in another room, a wealthy man from the Bay Area was sitting in an interrogation room.

The reason it was an interrogation room, and not an office or interview room, was because his case was more serious.

"...We've found the buried body at this location. Would you like to see what she looked like in the end?" the prosecutor asked expressionlessly, holding up one of the gruesome photos.

The wealthy man being interrogated didn't really want to see the photo, but he instinctively raised his head slightly.

A pale skeleton was laid out on a metal platform. The bones had been pieced together, even though only bones remained.

But in his mind, he vaguely recalled everything that had happened that day.

He hadn't intended to kill anyone; he just wanted to try some games he'd heard about, but the girl resisted desperately and even bit his thigh hard.

His thigh bled from the bite, and even now, there was a scar where he'd been bitten.

Under the influence of various desires and emotions, he beat the girl like a madman, accidentally killing her.

He accidentally killed a... call girl. At first, he was very scared, after all, he had killed someone.

He didn't know how to handle the case. In a panic, he called his friend.

But to his surprise and disbelief, his friend told him to call the manager of Red High Heels, and the manager would take care of it.

Subsequently, the reality was indeed as his friend had said. Red High Heels arranged for three strong men to come over, wearing the type of one-piece rubber suits that were usually worn for farm work.

When they entered the basement, they looked at the body as if it were an animal carcass, without any emotional fluctuations, not even asking him what had happened.

Then he watched as those people skillfully dismembered the girl with tools from his room and packed her into two rolling suitcases!

Past memories crashed over him like waves, and he narrowed his eyes slightly, revealing a trace of pain.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The prosecutor shook his head slightly. "Do you think we can find the tools used to dismember these bodies?"

"Maybe they're in the basement of your villa, or buried under a patch of lawn on your property?"

As he said this, the pupils of the wealthy man being interrogated trembled slightly.

Those tools were still in his basement!

Seeing that he wasn't speaking, the prosecutor raised his hand and signaled for everyone else to leave.

After the door was closed tightly, the prosecutor said, "Actually... whether there's evidence or not isn't important. What's important is whether we want to convict you."

"If we say it's valid evidence, then it's valid evidence. Do you understand what I mean?"

The wealthy man being interrogated seemed to realize something, and he immediately said, "What do you want?"

"Money?"

"Women?"

"Or something else?"

"Name your price, I can give you anything!"

The prosecutor shook his head. "It's not what I want, it's what Mr. Lance wants!"

He paused, then took out two more documents from the file bag and held them up. "Here's a share transfer agreement for the Gold Coast Wharf Investment Company. As long as you sign this agreement, you'll only be tried and sentenced for the crime of soliciting prostitution."

"The sentence will most likely be only three months. If you spend a little money and grease some palms, you can arrange a private prison, which is equivalent to going on a vacation."

"A very cost-effective deal, isn't it?"

"If we find out you killed someone, you'll likely never get out in this lifetime!"

The wealthy man being interrogated fell into silence. He understood why this trouble had suddenly found him.

He didn't want to sign because once he did, he would lose the most correct investment and the greatest wealth of his life.

Although he would still be very rich, this money, without the shares of the investment company, would become like dandelions, without any risk resistance, scattered by a gust of wind.

But... if he didn't sign, he wouldn't be able to get through the current hurdle.

Life is like this, making choices at each fork in the road, and then arriving at the next fork.

Seeing that he still hadn't spoken, the prosecutor added, "You're a capitalist, you should understand better than me that the sooner you transfer your shares, the better it will be for you."

"Once Mr. Lance has raised enough shares, whether you sign or not will no longer matter to him."

"Think about it carefully!"

"I'll go out for a smoke. You have a smoke too. I'll be back after a cigarette. If you haven't made a choice, all the conditions I gave you will be voided."

"If you don't sign, your family will sign. Your wife will sign."

"If your wife doesn't sign, your sons and daughters will sign."

"If they don't sign, your siblings will also sign. Someone will always sign, right?"

He placed a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches in the hands of the wealthy man being interrogated, then turned and left.

Five minutes later, he walked in from the door, still smelling of smoke. "Have you decided?"

"Sir?"

The wealthy man being interrogated looked particularly haggard. In just five minutes, he looked much older.

He nodded. "Give me the agreement..."

Soon, he signed the share transfer agreement. Before he was convicted and sentenced, this agreement had full legal effect.

The interrogation process ended quickly. When the prosecutor wrote the report, charging the wealthy man being interrogated with "solicitation of prostitution," his apprentice suddenly asked, "Is that it?"

His voice was somewhat muffled, and he looked sullen. The prosecutor looked at him. He seemed to be stubbornly raising his chin. "We all know he killed someone, but we're not pursuing his responsibility for murder?"

The prosecutor couldn't help but laugh. He put down his pen and looked at his intern with a smile, laughing even as his face turned red!

His intern couldn't help but close the door and say loudly, "We're prosecutors, we..."

The prosecutor raised his hand to stop him from continuing. "I know."

"Many years ago, I was just like you, thinking we could judge evil, but reality told me we can't."

"If there's no external interference, his lawyer will show the court and all sectors of society the charitable work he's done over the years."

"He'll tell people how many poor people his company and business have supported, how many families have been able to fill their stomachs and have a place to live."

"His lawyer will tell people that he has repented and will continue to repent, willing to take out more money to atone for his sins."

"He might even be able to bribe the victim's family to forgive the crimes he committed!"

"Guess how the judge will rule?"

His intern's brain was already somewhat unable to function under the constant barrage of information. He subconsciously asked, "How will they rule?"

"The jury will think that although he is guilty, he shouldn't be given the death penalty. The judge might sentence him to ten years in prison."

"He's very rich. He'll find someone to grease some palms, go to a private prison, and live there like he's living in a villa, for two or three years, and then get parole for good behavior."

"A human life, for these rich people, is just a matter of spending some money and losing two or three years of time."

His intern's worldview became unstable, and he was still confused, not even knowing what to say.

The prosecutor relit a cigarette, slowly inhaling, "But now, although it's only three months, he'll never have a chance to come out in this lifetime..."

He turned to look at his intern. "Someone will take care of him!"