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

Back in his campaign office in North Philadelphia, Sean, who had just returned from the meeting hall, simply hung his coat on the back of his chair and collapsed into it.

"That old man named Kelly is really weird. He's so cryptic, like a ghost that crawled out of a grave, talking about 'true friends' like he's preaching," he said.

"It is indeed strange," Matthew, who was organizing documents, said upon hearing this. "But Mr. Pan, I think that old man is not the point. The point is Mr. Marcus."

"How so?"

"He ran away too fast," Matthew analyzed. "One second he said he was going to get the list, and the next second he made an excuse about an emergency at home and slipped away. This doesn't seem like the reaction of someone who wants to help; it's more like... running away."

"Really?" Sean narrowed his eyes. "I didn't expect that."

"Actually, since we need to check the list, why don't we just ask the police for help? Let Officer Brown go to the union to get the attendance records. That should be legal, right?" Matthew suggested.

But as soon as he said it, he shook his head and rejected the suggestion.

"No, that's a terrible idea. The media is so sensitive right now. If we let the police storm into a union full of Black people and blue-collar workers to check people, even if it's legal, the media will interpret it as 'racial discrimination' or 'political persecution'."

"Yeah, especially since it happened on Martin Luther King Jr. Day," Sean added. "If this kind of news gets out, I'll be stuck in the same vortex of racial issues as Donovan."

He had barely finished speaking when his phone rang in his pocket.

I thought it was Marcus, but it turned out to be Daniel Brown.

"Hey? Officer, you want to buy me coffee again?"

"Forget about coffee, Pan," Brown's voice came through the phone, accompanied by the whooshing sound of the wind. "I'm at the crime scene on State Route 13. I think you should come over."

"A crime scene?" Sean was taken aback. "Wasn't that place cleaned up long ago? What could I possibly see there? The roadside weeds?"

"Some details can only be appreciated when you're there in person," Brown said impatiently. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be solving a case, Mr. Holmes? How can you solve a case without being at the scene? Come on over here!"

Sean frowned. "Okay, but can I bring my assistant?"

"No way," Brown refused decisively. "This is a restricted area. Although it's been reopened, it's not a tourist attraction. Our police team is far more professional than your college student assistant. You can handle it yourself."

"Then can I bring my own security team? You know there are a lot of people who want to kill me right now."

"Ha!" Brown scoffed on the other end. "You need security? I'm right here, armed and surrounded by a bunch of cops. Is there anywhere safer in Philadelphia? Stop dawdling, I'll send a car to pick you up now, or will you come over yourself?"

"Could you come over here yourself, Mr. Brown?" Sean said with a wicked grin.

"You little rascal! Fine, I'm coming over now..."

Sean was about to hang up, but then added, "By the way, Brown, about that transport workers' union. Have you looked into it before?"

"You know, that's a new approach," Brown said, sounding somewhat surprised. "We've only checked individual drivers who regularly run this route; we haven't done a full screening of the unions yet. You know, the police department is short-staffed and underfunded; going through a list of thousands of people..."

"Alright, alright, stop making excuses," Sean interrupted his bureaucratic complaints. "Get to the investigation. I'm heading out now."

After hanging up the phone, Sean grabbed his coat again.

"Matthew, I'm going out for a bit. Watch the house."

"Are you going alone?" Matthew asked, sounding a little worried.

"Don't worry, I'm going to see the police, not the mafia."

……

Less than twenty minutes after Sean left, the office door was pushed open again.

Vincent Carter walked in carrying a briefcase. He looked around and only saw Matthew, engrossed in his work.

"Where's Sarah?" Vincent asked casually.

"She had classes today and went back to Penn." Matthew looked up. "Mr. Carter, what brings you here? Isn't the law firm busy?"

"Just stopping by." Vincent pulled up a chair and sat down, looking Matthew up and down with interest. "What, Matthew, are you now planning to devote yourself entirely to politics? Abandoning your studies?"

Matthew smiled sheepishly: "I'm still exploring my path in life. After all, there's a big difference between what's in books and reality."

"I bet you're just following Pan's every move," Vincent teased. "So, what have you learned from this Hollywood star—no, this political tycoon?"

"You joined Sean's team before me, and I'd like to hear your thoughts."

Matthew's eyes lit up when Sean was mentioned.

"Mr. Pan is a very fascinating person," Matthew said earnestly. "He's contradictory. Sometimes I think he's a profit-driven opportunist, and other times I think he genuinely cares about the public. He never expresses his opinion easily, but for the past month he's always been on the winning side."

"You've got it right," Vincent nodded approvingly. "He doesn't express a specific political stance because he wants to be the embodiment of 'public opinion' itself. Wherever public opinion is, that's where he is. That's more sophisticated than any fixed partisan stance, and also more dangerous. Or rather: extremely dangerous."

"Perhaps this is itself a stance," Matthew laughed.

"Those who study politics are definitely different," Vincent laughed. "And you, Matthew? What's your stance? Do you have any political figures you admire?"

"Theodore Roosevelt," Matthew blurted out, "President Theodore Roosevelt."

"Oh? Is it because of the big stick policy? Or antitrust? It can't just be because of personal charisma."

"In fact, it was because he dared to take action against monopoly capital, establish national parks, and truly bring the United States onto the world stage. That kind of courage and drive is what I admire."

"A good choice." Vincent nodded. "Personally, I prefer Hamilton. Although he was never president, the financial system he built is the cornerstone of this country. Without him, there would be no federal government as we know it today."

"And he used to be a lawyer too."

The two exchanged a smile, seemingly sharing a mutual appreciation.

"Since you're a history student," Vincent said, intrigued, "come on, rank the US presidents? Who are the top three?"

"Washington is definitely number one, no question about it." Matthew started counting on his fingers. "As for second place, I'd put Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin Roosevelt side by side. The former goes without saying, and the latter led us out of the Great Depression and World War II. And then..."

"The worst one must be Harding, but in fact I think Bush Jr. was also terrible..."

Matthew began to launch into a long and eloquent critique, ranging from Washington to Kennedy. Vincent listened patiently, occasionally interjecting with a few words, and the atmosphere was very harmonious.

After chatting for a while, Vincent suddenly asked, "If one day Pan really becomes president, what do you think his place in history will be?"

This is a question that Matthew should ponder.

He thought about it seriously for a long time, and finally shook his head: "This is a very complicated question, Mr. Carter. He could be the next Jackson, or he could be... I don't know, maybe some kind of completely new type."

Presidents like Sean are extremely rare. Putting aside the possibility that he might switch to the Republican or Democratic parties in the future, if he were to become president as an independent candidate and a political novice, it would be truly groundbreaking.

America's wheat has ripened thousands of times, but this is the first time a politician has become president.

"Yeah, it's too early to talk about that now," Vincent said. "Speaking of which, where is he? Why hasn't he come back yet?"

"Oh, Officer Brown called him and asked him to go to the crime scene. He left before you arrived," Matthew told him truthfully.

"What did you say? The crime scene?"

"Yeah, over on State Route 13." Matthew didn't notice anything amiss. "Brown said he'd go check it out, saying it'd give him some inspiration."

"He went alone?" Vincent's voice suddenly rose eight octaves.

"Yes, Officer Brown wouldn't let him bring an assistant or security, saying the police were right there and it was safe..."

"Damn it!"

Vincent stood up abruptly, his face turning ashen instantly.

"He shouldn't have gone! Absolutely not!"

Matthew was startled: "What's wrong? Wasn't the lockdown lifted there already?"

"It's dangerous precisely because the lockdown has been lifted!" Vincent paced back and forth in his office, speaking rapidly. "Think about it, that case happened more than half a month ago! It's a major public road, with thousands of cars passing by every day. Exposed to wind and rain, the scene has long been completely destroyed! What can you see there now? The asphalt road?"

"Brown's a veteran detective, he couldn't possibly not know that. He called Sean over not to investigate the case at all!"

"Then...what was it for?"

"If there is no evidence at the scene, then 'create' some evidence."

"As long as Sean arrives at the scene and leaves footprints, fingerprints, or any other biological traces... then whatever is 'discovered' there afterward can be said to have been left by Sean."

Even a bullet casing or a piece of clothing.

"This...isn't this a bit too conspiratorial? Officer Brown may dislike Mr. Pan, but he's still a police officer..." Matthew frowned. "If they wanted to fabricate evidence, they should have other ways."