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

Although he may not be able to make any decisions based on his position, there are always people who can.

Half an hour after Sean left the police station, in the chief's office at Philadelphia Police Headquarters.

The blinds sliced ​​the afternoon sunlight into streaks of light and shadow, and the air was filled with the aroma of coffee and a kind of anxiety that the officers couldn't quite explain.

A month has passed, and they still have nothing to show for it. Some of their injured colleagues are still in the hospital.

However, it seems the chief summoned Daniel Brown not for this matter.

"Brown," the chief said calmly, sitting behind his large desk, "Do you know Richard Brennan?"

"That former U.S. senator? I know him. What's wrong?"

“Not just a former senator,” the chief corrected, his tone unconsciously tinged with respect. “Mr. Brennan is the kind of old-school man who sticks to the rules. And he’s always been very supportive of our department. Before he went to the Senate, he was advocating for operational funding for the Philadelphia Police Department. Even after he’s retired, his influence within the police force is still considerable.”

"So?" Brown interrupted the chief impatiently. "What does a retired politician have to do with our case?"

"You're still as short-tempered as ever, Brown. You should know there's a lot going on behind this." The chief sighed. "Mr. Brennan has been very unhappy lately. Apparently, he tried to win over that Sean Penn, but the young man politely declined. Now Sean is causing so much trouble, turning Philadelphia upside down, and Mr. Brennan feels it's damaging to the city's reputation."

The bureau chief was very open and honest, saying whatever came to mind...

Brown, however, didn't care at all. He didn't care about politics; he only cared about his own interests.

"In short, he wants us to get this over with as soon as possible," the director emphasized, "to give the outside world an explanation, and to teach that arrogant actor a lesson."

Brown chuckled.

"Chief, did I hear that right? When did it become the business of a retired government employee interfering in police investigations? Does he want to confess? I need funding too."

"Watch your tone, Brown!" the chief said, somewhat annoyed. "This is politics! Do you think we're operating in a vacuum? The mayor, council members, and bigwigs like Brennan—everyone's watching us!"

"Then let them keep an eye on it."

"You..." The chief pointed at him, then helplessly lowered his hand. "Listen, since we can't get to the real culprit in that 'attack case,' why can't we just pin the crime on Sean? The prosecution is ready, as long as we can provide some more solid evidence..."

"Solid evidence?" Brown retorted. "Chief, I'd like to do that too. Look at that guy's face, I'd like to send him to jail myself. But where's the evidence?"

Brown started counting on his fingers.

"First, the key witness, Thomas Reynolds. The medical examiner's report clearly states that he committed suicide. Although the timing is ridiculously coincidental, there were no signs of a second person at the scene, no struggle, and no coercion. We can't possibly falsify an autopsy report, can we?"

"Secondly, the attack. The thugs who attacked the armored truck were like ghosts. They abandoned the vehicle and fled within Philadelphia territory, and our men searched for a whole month without finding a trace of them."

"That's because you're incompetent!" the chief slammed his fist on the table. "Philadelphia is so big, isn't there a single security camera that captured them?"

"You're absolutely right, there isn't any." Brown spread his hands, looking helpless.

"Chief, you know Philadelphia's surveillance situation better than I do. Although we passed a referendum amendment more than a decade ago to start installing cameras at major intersections, and piloted automatic speed measurement on Roosevelt Avenue 20 years ago."

"However, the crime scene was on that deserted stretch of State Route 13!"

Brown said sarcastically, "That's a blind spot. There are no traffic cameras or business security cameras. Those attackers clearly did their homework; they chose the perfect location. What can we do? Why don't you apply for more funding and install cameras all over Philadelphia?"

The bureau chief was speechless, his face turning pale and then red.

"Enough! Who's the chief here, you or me?" Finally, the chief waved his hand. "Brown, don't let me see you for the next twenty-four hours. Go and solve this case, no matter what method you use!"

……

Ten minutes later, in the main office of the Major Crimes Unit.

Brown slammed the folder down on the conference table with a thud.

"Wake up, all of you!" He looked around at his listless subordinates. "The chief just gave me a dressing down. Now it's my turn to yell at you."

"Regarding the Avalon Foundation case and the case of the police car attack. A month! A whole month! And all you've given me is a pile of worthless paper?"

"Boss, we really did our best," an old detective said with a grim face. "The leads went completely cold. Thomas Reynolds only complained before he died, and the attacker's car was a wrecked vehicle with fake plates. This was practically a professional operation."

"We're facing a lot of resistance within the police department right now!"

"Yeah, it's because back then you wanted us to help that congressman steal someone's phone..."

"Enough! I don't want to hear excuses! I don't want to hear you shirking responsibility!" Brown roared.

What angered him the most was that these guys were shifting the blame onto him!

"What I need is a strategy! Even a crazy idea will do! Can anyone give me a breakthrough?"

In the conference room, only the ticking of the coffee machine answered him.

Everyone looked at each other, none daring to provoke trouble at this moment.

Just then, a weak voice came from the corner.

"Um... boss?"

The speaker was a young detective named Anthony, who had recently been transferred to the Major Crimes Unit.

"Speak," Brown said, looking at him irritably.

"Since we can't find any clues... why not involve Sean Penn?"

The air in the conference room seemed to freeze for a second.

Then, Brown looked at Anthony as if he were an alien.

"Are you out of your mind?" Brown pointed at his nose. "He's a suspect! The kind of person we want in jail! You want me to ask him to help us solve the case? Haven't I embarrassed myself enough in front of the chief?"

If he can't handle it, the chief might transfer him to oversee policing in the Black community. Damn it, he hates street graffiti and the smell of menthol cigarettes.

"No, boss, listen to me," Anthony said, still stubbornly despite being scolded.

"Think about it, Sean is facing two charges now. Although he says it's easy, he's definitely anxious inside. He wants to clear his name more than anyone else and prove that he didn't stage the attack."

But Anthony continued his analysis:

"Moreover, this guy has done so many miracles. He can handle the demolition of Chinatown, force the 76ers to a draw, and wield considerable influence in the media. He clearly has his own unique abilities."

"Since we need to find evidence to catch the killer, why not take advantage of his 'want to win' mentality? Let him struggle, let him dig for clues. If he uncovers the real killer, the case is solved, and everyone's happy; if he uncovers something detrimental to himself... or if he slips up during the investigation, isn't that exactly what we want?"

Brown's words of further swearing stuck in his throat.

He looked at his inexperienced young subordinate, his gaze slowly shifting from anger to contemplation.

This sounds absurd—letting a suspect investigate a case? It's no less than letting a hero investigate a hero, a good man investigate a good man, or Commissioner Smith investigate Commissioner Smith.

Moreover, his superiors were hinting that they wanted to find a way to pin the blame on Sean, in case Sean cleared himself of suspicion...

He picked up the coffee cup on the table and took a sip of the coffee, which had long since gone cold.

"Anthony."

"Yes, boss."

"It's a fucking terrible idea," Brown said, setting down his cup and giving everyone a mysterious smile. "But compared to sitting here waiting to die, it seems like this is our only option."