Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

Last night, after dealing with the follow-up matters concerning Robinson, I was asked a preliminary question.

After the body was sent to the forensic doctor, the doctor examined the chest and concluded that it was definitely not caused by human intervention, but rather a sudden death caused by the individual.

After all that fuss, I got back to my apartment after 1 a.m.

Exhausted, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

I was supposed to have a day off today, but when I woke up, I instinctively reached for my pistol in the holster next to my pillow, only to find it empty.

At first he thought he had remembered the wrong location, but after searching every corner of the apartment, he still couldn't find it.

Did you forget it at the prison?

He immediately drove back to the prison, hoping it was just a false alarm.

However, nothing was found in the office either.

Finding nothing in the office, they searched the interrogation room B-7 from the previous night.

They opened all the cabinets and searched them thoroughly, but found nothing. There were no traces in the trash cans either.

They searched the interrogation room, which was less than ten square meters, three times, leaving no inch of the floor or walls unchecked.

The gun is still not there.

Surveillance, surveillance doesn't lie!

Will grasped at this like a lifeline and practically ran into the monitoring room.

The colleague on duty noticed that his expression was off, but didn't ask any further questions. Instead, he pulled up the surveillance footage from the corridor where interrogation room B-7 was located and the adjacent areas from the previous night.

The timeline was dragged back to the moment last night when they escorted Lin Feng into the interrogation room.

Under the high-definition camera, the image is clear: he and Robinson, one on each side, flanked Lin Feng, who was wearing handcuffs, as they walked towards B-7.

Will is facing the camera sideways, and you can clearly see that he has a sidearm in the holster on his right hip.

Fast forward, time passes.

The door opened again, and Will pushed Lin Feng out alone, his face ashen, and walked towards the prison cell area.

Will stared intently at his waist on the screen.

When he pushed Lin Feng away from the entrance of B-7 and exposed him to the main camera in the corridor—the holster was still there, but it was empty!

The gun disappeared.

He played this segment repeatedly, zooming in and zooming in again.

The conclusion is clear: the gun was 100% lost in the B-7 interrogation room.

Last night in interrogation room B-7, besides the already deceased Robinson and himself, there were five other people.

The prison doctor, Elizabeth Sarah, the black nurse, the two prison guards Marcus and Jason who arrived later, and the prisoner Lin Feng.

All five people are suspects.

Will reviewed all the surveillance footage from the time Lin Feng left the interrogation room and was escorted back to his cell.

In the video, Lin Feng's hands are handcuffed in front of him, his steps are steady, and his prison uniform is thin and close-fitting, without any obvious bulges or abnormalities.

There were no obvious throwing or passing motions.

Let's rule out Lin Feng for now.

So was it prison doctor Sarah, a nurse, or a colleague Marcus or Jason?

He tried hard to recall what happened last night.

After Robinson collapsed, Sarah and the nurses rushed in to check on him, and Marcus and Jason arrived shortly after to help carry him. At that moment, everyone's attention was focused on the dying Robinson.

The room was crowded and people were moving around in a hurry; it was entirely possible that someone could take advantage of the chaos to steal a gun.

Who would have a motive to steal the gun?

Marcus and Jason were colleagues, a prison doctor and a nurse, and the four of them didn't have enough motive to steal the gun.

So, they watched the four people leave repeatedly on the surveillance footage, but found nothing unusual.

In Will's mind, the biggest suspect still stubbornly pointed to the Chinese prisoner.

Although the surveillance footage seemed to rule out the possibility that he carried it directly, that eerie intuition, that vague connection between Robinson's death and himself, haunted Will. Perhaps he used some method he couldn't have imagined?

In a state of agitation, Will, accompanied by another prison guard, directly opened the cell doors of Lin Feng and Li Honggang.

Will personally took charge and practically turned the cramped cell upside down.

The bed was lifted up and the toilet tank was opened for inspection.

Every crack in the wall was shone with a flashlight, but nothing was found.

Although the consequences of losing a police officer's gun in the United States are not as severe as in China, where it could immediately lead to being stripped of one's uniform or even imprisonment.

However, it was still a serious internal incident.

The severity of punishment largely depends on the attitude of superiors and the consequences of the incident.

If the warden is willing to bail you out, it might just be an internal warning, a written self-criticism, or a period of unpaid suspension.

But if no one protects you, or if the lost gun is used for a crime, you may face demotion, dismissal, or even civil lawsuits or criminal charges.

Will's last wish right now is for more people to know about this, especially before the investigation results are released.

Once the news gets out, the pressure will increase exponentially.

Unable to find him, Will asked his colleague to bring Li Honggang over for questioning.

Meanwhile, the drama in the laundry room had just ended.

Eight black prisoners lay sprawled on the damp concrete floor, tears and snot streaming down their faces, their screams echoing through the air.

Lin Feng stood among them, like a silent, malevolent god.

Just as he was considering whether to kick him a few times in the face, Li Honggang, who was keeping watch at the door, hurriedly said, "Brother Lin, the police are here!"

Lin Feng paused, his cold gaze sweeping over the dead Old Black on the ground.

He paused, then stomped on Deron's palm, causing Deron to yell in pain.

"When the police arrive, I believe you'll know what to say."

If I find out anyone dares to talk nonsense, I'll make them suffer ten times more than this. Do you understand?

The voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of every Black man.

"Understood, understood!"

"We absolutely will not tell, God is our witness!"

"I won't do it again! I'll never do it again!"

The men who had been so menacing just moments before now looked at Lin Feng as if he were a demon crawling out of hell.

That fear was ingrained in my bones.

It even surpassed the fear of the harshest punishments in prison.

Lin Feng then walked over to a washing machine, picked up the clothes, and threw them into it.

The sound of leather shoes approached from afar, and two prison guards walked in.

The scene before them made them frown.

Deron Williams, nicknamed "The Bulldozer," was sitting on the ground, clutching his shoulders, some with tears streaming down their faces—a bizarre scene.

"You idiots, what are you doing here? Are you looking to die?" a prison guard shouted.

Delong subconsciously wanted to look at Lin Feng, but when his gaze fell on the cold glint in Lin Feng's eyes as he slightly turned his head, he felt a chill run down his spine.

With a sob in his voice, he said, "Sir, we are here to repent to God."

Let us repent for the sins we have committed and ask for forgiveness.

As he spoke, he tried to force a pious expression onto his face, which looked incredibly comical.

"Yes, repent!"

"We are guilty."

The others quickly echoed, their voices uneven and trembling with pain.

The prison guards looked at them suspiciously, especially Delon.

Is this guy a repentant person?

It would be more accurate to say he was planning to rob the laundry room of its soap to sell.

But the prison guards were too lazy to investigate these petty squabbles among the prisoners. As long as they weren't beaten to death or maimed, or caused any trouble, they usually chose to turn a blind eye.

"Shut the fuck up and get back to your workstations." The prison guard waved his hand impatiently.

"Sir, our arm is dislocated, we can't move it," a black man said with a mournful face.

"Mine too."

"They can't move at all."

The prison guard's face darkened. He stepped forward, roughly grabbed a black man's arm and moved him, and the man immediately let out a pig-like scream.

It really doesn't seem like an act.

"Fuck, is it really dislocated?"