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

Despite his anger, Marcus was helpless in the face of Officer Brown's businesslike demeanor.

Although this is the territory of the industry union, the building is owned by the city government; they are merely the lessees. Furthermore, the union has close ties to some politicians. Faced with a criminal investigation, even Martin Luther King Jr. resurrected couldn't stop the police from taking people away.

"Don't worry, Marcus." Sean patted the union leader on the shoulder. "A clear conscience fears no accusation. I'll be right back."

He then turned to Matthew, who looked anxious, and said in a mysterious Eastern language:

"Matthew, you go home first. Remember to organize the footage you shot today, but don't release it yet. If I don't come out within 24 hours, go find Vincent Carter."

The people listening to their encrypted conversation were momentarily confused.

"But..." Matthew was still hesitating.

"Do as I say."

Matthew could only nod and watch helplessly as Sean was led into the police car by Brown.

……

The police cars sped along, not heading to the nearest precinct, but straight to the Philadelphia Police Department headquarters.

In the interrogation room, Officer Brown poured Sean a glass of warm water in a disposable paper cup. "Sigh! This case was almost closed. As usual, suicide! The evidence was practically irrefutable; even the chief and the prosecutor were ready to sign it off."

"Should I say thank you, officer?" Sean leaned back in his chair, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. "Since the case is closed, why bother inviting me here?"

"Because those nerds in the forensic department made a new discovery at the last minute," Brown whispered. "They found a few new hairs on the bathroom mat in Thomas's apartment that didn't belong to him."

"Hair?"

"That's right. It doesn't belong to Thomas, but after a quick comparison, although the final DNA profile hasn't been released yet, the microscopic features are a high match with your hair texture."

Sean chuckled. "Officer, Philadelphia has millions of people, and there are at least eight or ten thousand people with similar hair types. You think you can convict me based on that?"

"Besides, I just came out of Thomas's place not long ago. You can ask your colleagues; I have authorization from above."

"First of all, we didn't discover the hair afterward, and we don't just solve cases based on hair texture. We're professionals, okay?"

Brown stared disdainfully into Sean's eyes and continued, "Sean, you have a motive. Thomas is a key witness in your case. Who benefits most from his death? You, of course. Besides, we investigated your movements; you have no alibi from 10 p.m. last night to 4 a.m. this morning."

"I'm sleeping."

"one person?"

"Nonsense, of course it's one person!"

"So there are no witnesses then." Brown spread his hands. "Look, we have a motive, we have the time, and now we even have physical evidence. Although it's just a strand or two of hair, it's enough for us to invite you back for a cup of coffee."

Damn it, does he really need to find someone to sleep with him?

"Is it possible that someone followed me, collected my hair, and then dumped it at the scene?" Sean countered. "This kind of framing tactic has been overused in Hollywood movies."

"You have a vivid imagination, no wonder you're an actor," Brown sneered. "But reality isn't a movie. And how do you know we only have hair samples for comparison? The forensic team is working overtime on DNA testing. Once the results are in, it won't be as simple as just inviting you for coffee."

"Where did you get my DNA sample?"

"Sean, have you forgotten what kind of person you used to be?" Brown's tone was laced with sarcasm. "You're a drug addict, you've been to the police station several times, and you've been involved in several community drug rehabilitation groups. Although those places are confidential, it wouldn't be difficult for the police and so many people across the country who hate you to obtain a copy of your medical records or biological samples."

Sean froze. The original owner's messy history was indeed his biggest weakness.

"Alright, enough chit-chat." Brown stood up. "We're going to conduct a formal sample comparison. But before that, you need to be questioned."

After saying that, he turned and left the interrogation room.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

This time, it wasn't Brown who came in, but a female detective in her thirties. She had short, neat hair, was dressed in civilian clothes, and was carrying a folder.

Sean glanced at the numbers above her head.

【-15】.

Not too bad. At least much better than Brown's [-42].

"I'm Detective Elizabeth Russell." She sat down opposite him, tossing her folder onto the table. "Sean Penn, hello."

"Hello, Detective Russell." Sean adjusted his posture to make himself look more sincere and harmless.

"Alright, save your acting skills in front of me." Russell opened the folder. "Let's get down to business. Where were you from 10 PM last night to 4 AM this morning?"

“I sleep in my warehouse, or rather, my campaign office,” Sean replied. “You can check the security footage nearby.”

"We checked. The security cameras around that warehouse are broken." Russell looked up at him. "What a coincidence, isn't it?"

"What the heck? Why didn't you say so sooner? This is too much of a coincidence!" Sean exclaimed, feigning surprise. "It's as coincidental as Thomas committing suicide the day before his court appearance, and as coincidental as my evidence disappearing on the road."

His words caused Russell's pen to pause for a moment. She immediately looked up, squinting at Sean.

"What are you implying?"

“I’m not implying anything, Detective,” Sean said. “I just feel like this is all too perfect. Perfect like a meticulously crafted script. And I’m the scapegoat pushed onto the stage.”

"A scapegoat?" Russell sneered. "You mean, someone killed Thomas and then framed you?"

"If I were the murderer, would I be stupid enough to leave my hair at the scene?" Sean retorted. "And if I really wanted to kill to cover it up, why didn't I do it sooner instead of waiting until now?"

"Either I'm a complete idiot, or I'm the absolute biggest idiot."

"That possibility cannot be ruled out." Although Russell was sharp-tongued, the number above her head flickered.

【-10】.

Sean knew that his words had worked.

It seems the other party wasn't a police officer who wanted to execute or convict him outright.

"Detective," he pressed, "I know you're under pressure. Someone up above wants to close the case quickly, to brand me with shame. Did a congressman call your chief?"

"You mean Senator Donovan?" Russell asked, frowning.

"You said it, I didn't!"

"Shut up, I know you're thinking of her. Tell me, why do you think it's her!" Russell, who always believed in speaking frankly, angrily rebuked Sean at this moment.

"Because she's the only one who wants me to disappear immediately," Sean explained with a wry smile to the enraged detective. "She not only wants to ruin my reputation, she wants to ruin my life. Reopening the lawsuit, that's her plan, isn't it?"

Russell did not answer, but her subsequent silence said it all.

She closed the folder and rubbed her temples.

"Listen, Sean," her tone softened slightly, "I don't care if you're truly innocent or feigning innocence. The evidence is very unfavorable to you. Even if the DNA comparison matches, there's nothing I can do to help you."

The number above her head changed to "-5".

This is a policeman with a sense of justice, but he is overwhelmed by the orders from above.

“I don’t need you to exonerate me, Detective.” Sean stared into her eyes. “I just need a fair chance. A chance to find out the truth.”

"What do you want?"

"I want to exercise my rights." Sean sat up straight. "I want to see my lawyer."

"Your lawyer?" Russell raised an eyebrow. "You have a lawyer?"

"Of course, and absolutely professional."

"Okay, although I guess none of the good lawyers in Philadelphia would dare to take your case right now, I'd like to hear what names you can come up with."

"I'm looking for Vincent Carter."

Russell was stunned.

"Vincent Carter? Thomas Reynolds's lawyer?"

"That's right."

"Are you crazy?" Russell found it unbelievable. "He's the deceased's lawyer, and he's legally your adversary."

"That's precisely why he's the most suitable candidate," Sean said with a smile. "If even the deceased's lawyer is willing to defend me, what does that say?"

"That means you're in a terrible situation."

"..."

Russell stared at Sean silently for a long time, and finally shook her head helplessly.

"Okay. You have the right to make this call." She stood up. "But I have to warn you, Vincent Carter is a weirdo. He hates you celebrities."

"I know," Sean said, "but he hates injustice even more."

Russell ignored him and walked out of the interrogation room as if nothing had happened.

Sean looked at the closed door and let out a long sigh of relief.