America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Sean leaned back in his chair and began to analyze the current situation.

"Matthew, what do you think people outside will think about this?"

"The witness is dead, the evidence is missing, and the police escorting them were in a car accident. If I were an ordinary citizen, I would feel..."

"They'll think I did it," Sean chimed in. "Murder to cover it up, destroy evidence. What a classic script."

The problem is that he simply doesn't have that much power, and if he were the one planning this operation, he certainly wouldn't have revealed so many flaws.

“That’s right.” Matthew nodded. “And the timing was too perfect. Just as the handwriting analysis was about to take place, everything that could prove the authenticity of the agreement disappeared. Whatever the truth is, public opinion will only interpret it in the most dramatic way.”

“What’s worse,” Sean stood up and walked to a makeshift whiteboard, “Attorney General Harrison is now in a bind. He agreed to postpone the prosecution because I raised reasonable questions. But now the evidence is gone, the witness is dead, and if he doesn’t take action, he’ll be accused of being my accomplice.”

"So he's very likely to file a new lawsuit?"

"It's not a possibility, it's a certainty." Sean drew a simple flowchart on the whiteboard. "Under public pressure, he has no other choice. Even without the original agreement, he can use copies and other circumstantial evidence to sue me. Then I'll have to prove my innocence in court."

"And someone who is on criminal trial cannot run for president," Matthew added.

"Can't I?"

"No way..."

Matthew is a meticulous person, and while he doesn't exactly know much about the U.S. Constitution, he wouldn't speak carelessly. "In any case, in practice, no one would vote for a candidate who could be sentenced to prison at any time."

"In that case, my campaign is over before it even started."

"So what should we do?"

What are your thoughts?

Matthew scratched his head awkwardly. "I know an alumnus in the fraternity who's interning at a law firm in Philadelphia. Maybe I can ask him for some legal advice."

"A fraternity? What fraternity?"

"APO, Alpha Phi Omega," Matthew explained, "is a service-oriented fraternity, not the kind that's all about partying and drinking. We mainly do community service and volunteer work. You know Bill Clinton, right? He's one of our seniors."

"That sounds really positive," Sean joked. "Okay, go ahead and contact your senior. But before that, I think we should do something else first."

"What is it?"

"Go and visit that deceased witness."

Matthew paused, then said, "Visit him? He's dead, what are we visiting?"

"I'll visit his family, neighbors, and colleagues." Sean picked up his coat. "I need to know who this person is, why he's willing to testify against me, and how he died."

"Isn't the police investigating?"

"We might have to wait weeks or even months to know the results of the police investigation," Sean said, putting on his coat. "And even if they find something, they might not tell us. I need to have firsthand information myself."

"Besides, don't you find it strange? Why does this person live in Pennsylvania instead of California? Logically, he shouldn't be qualified to be a witness. And the moment I arrived in Pennsylvania, he became a cooperating witness. Isn't that too much of a coincidence?"

"Because you made a huge fuss, and he couldn't stand it?"

"That possibility cannot be ruled out," Sean sighed, "but without actual investigation, we cannot speak casually."

"But..." Matthew hesitated for a moment, "Won't people say we're interfering with the investigation if we do this?"

"We're just going to find out what's going on, not to destroy evidence." Sean walked toward the door. "Besides, I plan to record the whole thing and put it on my YouTube channel."

"Your YouTube channel? Is it the new one?" Matthew caught up with him. "I remember the account name isn't even decided yet, and it only has a few thousand subscribers."

"The number of subscribers isn't high, but the number of views is decent." Sean pushed open the door. "A lot of people watch my videos, they just don't want to subscribe."

As he spoke, he walked down the stairs, saying, "I will edit the whole process into a video to show how I tried to find the truth. That way, even if someone tries to smear me, at least I will have visual evidence to prove that I did nothing illegal."

Matthew thought about it and felt that this line of thinking made some sense.

"Okay, shall we go now?"

"Yes." Sean stepped out of the warehouse, the chilly January wind of Philadelphia immediately filling his collar. "Do you know where that witness lives?"

"Let me check, it shouldn't be hard to find." Matthew took out his phone and started searching. "Before Attorney General Harrison tried to hold a press conference, someone leaked the witness's name online, not to mention such a big murder case."

Thanks to the gossip of the masses, even though it puts the witness in a dangerous situation. But it also makes their actions and decisions easier.

"...Found him. Thomas Reynolds, 52 years old, lives in an apartment in the West Side of Philadelphia."

"West District? Do you have a picture of him?"

"no."

"Okay, that's enough. Let's go take a look." Sean hailed a taxi. "I'm getting more and more curious about who this Thomas Reynolds is."

……

Half an hour later, the taxi stopped on a run-down street in West Philadelphia.

The driver, an elderly Black man, glanced at Sean and Matthew in the rearview mirror and said in a worried tone:

"Guys, are you sure you want to get off here? This area isn't safe."

"We know," Sean said, paying the fare. "Thank you for reminding me."

After getting out of the car, Sean looked around.

The scene here was much the same as what he had seen when he passed by a few weeks ago.

Matthew followed closely behind Sean, holding his phone, as they didn't have any more advanced equipment.

"Did you record it?"

"It's been recorded."

"Thomas Reynolds' apartment is on the third floor of that building over there," Matthew said in a low voice. "The police should have cordoned off the area; we probably won't be able to get in."

“We don’t need to go in,” Sean said. “We just need to talk to his neighbor.”

They walked toward the apartment building. Sure enough, there was yellow police tape at the entrance, and two police officers were standing there.

Instead of trying to break in, Sean turned to a building next door.

He knocked on a door on the first floor.

The door opened a crack, and a middle-aged Black woman peeked out, looking at them warily.

Who are you?

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sean said with a friendly smile. "My name is Sean Penn, and I'd like to ask about Thomas Reynolds."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "You're...the one on TV?"

"Yes, it's me." Sean readily admitted, "I know many people think I killed him. But I assure you, I have nothing to do with his death. I'm here to find out the truth."

The woman stared at him for a long time, seemingly trying to determine whether what he said was true or false.

Finally, she sighed and opened the door wider.

"Come in, it's too cold outside."