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

Faced with Marcus's sudden confession, Vincent Carter felt as if a light had suddenly been pierced through his skin, as if the most important piece of the puzzle had been completed at that moment.

Neither he nor the police suspected countless people, including Sean, but they never suspected Marcus. This friend and neighbor of Thomas, though he had been dragged into trouble by Thomas and had lost a lot of money, always repaid others with the utmost kindness.

Furthermore, Marcus and his wife had been cooperating fully with the police investigation, offering their lawyer complete spiel. But perhaps this closest, most unlikely person was a big fish they had overlooked.

Now, he has even admitted it himself.

However, he also knew that Marcus hadn't used any method to murder Thomas Reynolds. There was no trickery or scheme in Thomas's suicide, but he must have exploited Thomas's guilt.

Thinking about this, he actually found his guess quite audacious. Killing someone with mere words? That's too far-fetched! And what was Marcus's motive for doing this? Was it revenge against Thomas? Or was he acting on someone else's orders?

And this coincided with Thomas's hesitation about testifying against Sean.

And did those attackers have any contact with him?

Patches of dark clouds hung over Vincent's head, but Sean, standing beside him, seemed completely unbothered. He had only one thought in his mind: "Damn it, why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Mr. Marcus, do you know what you're saying?" Vincent said gravely. "You should know that we've been recording this, and everything you say will be used as evidence..."

Upon hearing this, Sean looked at Vincent in surprise, wondering if Vincent wasn't afraid of Marcus launching a desperate counterattack. Although it was two against one, what if Marcus brought a weapon?

However, a weary Marcus could only manage a bitter smile: "So what? Do you have any evidence? Can the law convict me? I did murder Thomas, but Mr. Carter, Mr. Pan, what methods did I use?"

"I did kill him, but I also helped him," he said with a smile. "Thomas was a good man, but also a sinner. He was an accomplice to evil and caused countless working-class families like his to break apart. I knew he was also caught in this moral dilemma, so I just gave him a gentle push, that's all."

Vincent stared at him, speechless.

Did Marcus instigate Thomas to commit suicide?

Marcus remained unfazed and said, "That's all I have to say, Mr. Carter. You can call the police now and have them handle this."

"No, no!" Vincent shouted. "You can't change the subject! You haven't properly explained the attack on the police! Marcus, Thomas's death and the attack on the police car are definitely not isolated incidents. Tell me what you know! I... I can help you plead with the court for leniency. You... you still have a wife!"

Vincent showed a rare hint of panic, but Marcus remained calm and composed.

Marcus laughed, "It's alright, I was already planning to turn myself in anyway. But I'm not asking for forgiveness from either side; no one can judge me."

"Except for Him."

His voice landed heavily at the end, making Sean feel a sense of awe.

"So, what are you planning to do? Commit suicide? Right here?" Sean asked.

"Suicide? Mr. Pan, I already have enough crimes to bear. I don't want to add another one." Marcus sighed. "You can take me away, to the police station, to the court, or to the reporters. I might speak, or I might not. But Pan, I will not testify for you."

"What do you mean by this...?" Sean squinted, completely bewildered.

“I’ve seen that so-called evidence,” he said, uttering a statement that shocked Sean and Vincent. “At Thomas’s memorial service, I compared your signature to his for a long time, and I’m certain it’s not your handwriting. So, that evidence is not only insufficient to prove you know everything about Avalon, but it actually leads to the exact opposite conclusion.”

Sean's heart tightened.

Marcus saw that evidence? He must be connected to those people! And it's very likely they're in cahoots!

"In his house! The evidence is definitely in his house!"

But before that thought could even form in his mind, Marcus continued, "But Pan, I see disrespect in your eyes!"

"Disrespect?" Sean looked at Marcus in confusion, wondering if religion could really drive people mad.

“Yes…I saw disrespect.” Marcus’s tone became low and certain. “That day in the synagogue, I received a revelation. He told me everything.”

"Sean Penn, you are a blasphemer. You are a liar and know you are lying. You claim to have reformed over and over again, but that is nothing but a series of disguises. You are an ambitious monster, a faithless fool. You consume the dead and the living. You use Thomas's death and the suffering of all people as stepping stones to your own advancement."

Sean listened in silence, his face expressionless.

“I carefully compared the handwriting on that piece of evidence bearing your signature to your handwriting in the memorial service visitor book,” Marcus continued. “It wasn’t written by you. It doesn’t prove you were aware of it; in fact, it might point to the opposite conclusion. That’s when I realized… perhaps you were also framed? No, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that the document itself shouldn’t have existed. It’s poison, a tool to continue defiling and exploiting the dead.”

"So, I burned it."

Vincent gasped. "You burned it?! Marcus, that was crucial evidence!"

"This is a decision I've made after much deliberation." Marcus's gaze passed over them, venturing into the distance, as if conversing with an unseen being. "Foolish mortals need three days to understand the Lord's intentions. Pan, I will not expose you. This is not my job, it is God's job. I can only wait, wait for His judgment to fall upon those who are destined to be judged. And I will remain silent."

Sean frowned, took a small step forward, and tried to catch Marcus's shifting gaze. "Marcus, you sound like you hate me."

However, his favorability rating is still around 30, which is not too low.

Marcus finally turned his gaze back to Sean's face. "I don't hate you, Mr. Pan."

But he quoted, “So that you may be children of your Father in heaven, because he causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and to send rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 11:1-12)

He paused. "I will neither help you nor harm you. The rest is up to God and the law. I have said all I have to say."

He shut his mouth and indeed did not utter another word, like another stone tablet standing next to his father's grave.

……

In the middle of the night, after Marcus was taken back to the police station and received assistance from the union, the police began their operation.

The piercing sirens of police cars echoed through a densely populated townhouse neighborhood in North Philadelphia.

Several police cars screeched to a halt at the roadside. Daniel Brown was the first to step out, his movements swift and decisive. He checked the addresses and lists in his hand and then gestured to the fully armed officers behind him.

"Targets one and two, the building on the left. Target three, upstairs from the barbershop across the street. Target four, 'Big Dog,' the apartment with the red door on the right. Move out! Stay alert, they may be armed."

"Boss, we haven't secured any evidence yet. Could we be alerting them?"

"Stop talking nonsense! Don't you want to make a contribution? This isn't called stirring up trouble, it's called making a show of force!"

After he spoke, the officers quickly dispersed, and knocking, the sound of showing identification, and short commands rose and fell.

The arrests of the first three targets went surprisingly smoothly. Two of them were still asleep when they were handcuffed; the third was arrested in a barbershop with a half-cloth wrapped around his head and a look of astonishment on his face.

But the officers in charge of capturing the fourth group of "big dogs" quickly relayed a message over the radio:

"Boss, there's no one in the room! The neighbors said they heard a motorcycle around midnight last night, and haven't seen him since."

Brown's face darkened. He strode toward the red door, which was indeed empty. Personal belongings were scattered haphazardly, and there was even a half-empty can of beer on the coffee table, which was still a little cold to the touch.

"They're gone," Brown uttered through gritted teeth. He glanced around the shabby room, his gaze settling on an old photograph on the wall of "Big Dog" with a group of biker friends.

The young man in the photo is giving the middle finger to the camera with a smug smile.

"Did they run away, or were they just not there?"

"Notify all units to issue an arrest warrant. Focus on investigating ports, highway entrances, and..." He glanced at the photo again, "...check the hideouts of his old biker gang members. If he's on the run, he can't have gone far; he and his accomplices haven't left Philadelphia, so they must have other motives."

"If he's just going out for a walk, then we can just wait here for him to come back."

Outside the window, the red and blue flashing lights of police cars swirled silently, illuminating the chaotic street and Officer Brown's tightly pursed lips. Four names were crossed off the list, but the most dangerous one was nowhere to be found.