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

Chapter 76 is not your time to speak.

Morey? He's going to appear in court in person?

Moments later, a man with a bandage on his right arm was escorted into the courtroom.

Darrell Morey's face was grim, whether from pain or anger, it was hard to tell. As he passed the dock, his gaze shot towards Sean like a venomous snake.

Sean returned a polite smile while quickly glancing at the numbers above Morey's head.

[—85].

Goodness, the hatred level is almost at its maximum.

After Morey took his oath in the witness stand, he sat down, and Garcia began his questioning.

"Mr. Morey, please describe to the court what happened on January 15th."

"That morning, I was getting ready to leave the training center for a meeting," Morey said, his voice tinged with resentment. "When I found the main entrance surrounded by a mob of thugs."

"You used the word 'thug.' Why?"

"Because they are thugs," Morey said firmly. "They shoved security guards, smashed my car, and spat on the windows."

Then someone even pulled out a gun and shot me. What else could this be but thugs?

"Did you notice the emotions of the protesters before the shooting?"

"They were very excited, very aggressive," Morey said. "I heard them chanting all sorts of slogans, the most frequent being Sean Penn's name. They worshipped him like some kind of hero."

"Mr. Morey, do you believe the defendant bears any responsibility for this incident?"

"I object," Vincent stood up. "The prosecution is guiding the witnesses to give their opinions, rather than stating the facts."

"Objection valid," Judge Herris said. "Prosecutor, please rephrase your statement."

Garcia changed his perspective: "Mr. Morey, before this incident, did you watch the episode of the podcast the defendant appeared on?"

"I've seen part of it."

What are your impressions of that episode?

"Impressions?" Morey sneered. "That's blatant incitement. He portrayed our 76ers as some kind of monster, and Chinatown as some kind of victim. And what's with this talk of the Declaration of Independence?!"

"He wants independence! He wants to split America apart!"

"Thank you, no other questions." Garcia said, seeing Morey getting more and more agitated.

It was Vincent's turn to conduct the cross-examination.

"Mr. Morey," Vincent said with a serious expression, "I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Ask away."

"Did you roll down your car window when your car was about to leave the training center that day?"

Morey thought for a moment: "Yes, it went down a bit. The air conditioning was broken, and it was too hot in the car."

"Did you say anything to the protesters outside the car when you rolled down the window?"

"I—" Morey's eyes flickered. "I might have said something. It was too chaotic at the time, I can't remember clearly."

"Can't remember?" Vincent approached the witness stand. "Let me help you recall. Mr. Morey, did you curse the protesters outside the car as 'yellow monkeys'?"

The courtroom erupted in chaos.

"Objection!" Garcia jumped up. "The defense lawyer is making baseless accusations."

"Your Honor," Vincent turned to the judge's bench, "I have witnesses who can testify that Mr. Morey did indeed use racially discriminatory language that day. This is crucial to understanding the full account of what happened."

"What witnesses do you have?" Judge Herris asked.

"A protester who was standing right next to Mr. Morey's car window heard the words with his own ears."

"Then why didn't you list this person on the witness list?"

"Because we only found him this morning, Your Honor. He is willing to appear in court to testify."

Judge Herris frowned and thought for a few seconds.

"The court will adjourn for thirty minutes. Both lawyers, please come to my office; we need to discuss the issue of this new witness."

Court adjourned.

When the gavel fell, the heavy sound did little to dispel the commotion in the courtroom.

Thirty minutes later, in the judge's office.

Judge Herris sat behind his large desk, his gaze shifting back and forth between Marvin Garcia and Vincent Carter.

"Mr. Carter, are you sure this witness can provide substantial evidence instead of wasting time in court?"

"Your Honor, this witness is Jerome Banks," Vincent handed over a short transcript. "He was less than two meters to the right of the Cadillac SUV at the time of the incident. He is willing to testify under oath that he heard Mr. Morey's words and that he also saw and spoke with Kevin Chen before the shooting."

Garcia scoffed. "This is clearly an actor the defense found on the spot. There is no record of such a witness in the previous police investigation."

"That's because the police were only focused on arresting the shooter and didn't conduct a thorough investigation of the hundreds of terrified civilians at the scene," Vincent said calmly. "Besides, Mr. Garcia, if you have any doubts about the authenticity of a witness, you can expose them during cross-examination."

Judge Herris pondered for a moment before speaking, "Witnesses are permitted to testify. But Mr. Carter, you should know the consequences if I find that you are misleading the court."

That's why Jerome Banks was able to stand in the witness stand.

He was a tall, black man wearing a slightly worn dark blue sports jacket, and his baseball cap was off, revealing a somewhat embarrassed expression.

Sean glanced at the number above his head: [65]. This indicated that the other party at least had basic sympathy and support for him.

"Mr. Banks," Vincent began, guiding the questioning, "please tell the court what you saw and heard on the morning of January 26 when that black SUV drove out of the training center gates."

Jerome cleared his throat, his voice low in the quiet courtroom. "I was on the right side of the car. There were a lot of people, and everyone was chanting slogans. The window rolled down a little, and I saw Mr. Morey."

He pointed to Morey, who was sitting in the plaintiff's seat.

"He seemed very impatient and kept honking. Then the guy who fired the shot pushed his way forward and blocked the car's path. Mr. Morey shouted something out the window."

"What did he shout?"

Jerome hesitated for a moment, glanced at the jury, and then slowly mimicked Morey's expression, saying, "He said: Get out of my way, you damn yellow monkey."

A low murmur rippled through the courtroom, and the expressions of several jurors of African and Asian descent changed.

"are you sure."

"I'm sure. He was speaking very loudly, and his expression was one of extreme disgust."

Vincent turned around, but his eyes were fixed on Morey.

"Thank you, Mr. Banks."

When it was Garcia's turn to cross-examine, he practically jumped to the witness stand and asked, "Mr. Banks, when did you meet the defendant, Sean Penn?"

"I don't know him. I've only seen him on TV."

"So who contacted you? Was it your defense lawyer? How much money did they pay you to tell this lie?"

“Nobody gave me any money,” Jerome said angrily. “I saw on the news the day before yesterday that the kid who fired the shot was going to get ten years in prison, and I felt that was unfair. Morey said those things; he provoked the kid. I just wanted to tell the truth.”

Garcia wanted to continue arguing, but Morey suddenly slammed his fist on the table and stood up.

He was clearly somewhat out of control.

“This is slander,” Morey said to the judge. “This is all a staged performance by Sean Penn. Your Honor, do you know why this washed-up actor is targeting me?”

Judge Herris frowned. "Mr. Morey, watch your behavior. This is not your time to speak."

“No, I have to say,” Morey said, pointing at Sean despite his lawyer’s attempts to stop him. “The city government contacted me and Chinatown to discuss building an arena. He was representing Chinatown at the time, but I couldn’t attend that day. And what happened? He held a grudge and used his podcast to incite those idiots to attack me.”

Sean raised an eyebrow; this was an angle he hadn't expected. But he wasn't such a narrow-minded person.

"He made a huge scene and turned the whole thing into a personal revenge attack against me," Morey said, his voice quickening. "The kid who shot him was just his tool. That's the truth."

Chaos erupted in the courtroom. Judge Herris slammed his gavel, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Silence! Silence! Mr. Morey, do you intend to use the courtroom as a place for your tantrums?"

"Given the emergence of new testimony and allegations, this court is adjourned. The court will reconvene in three days."

In the corridor outside the courthouse, reporters were kept at a distance by bailiffs.

Vincent and Sean walked side by side toward the elevator. Vincent walked quickly, his hands constantly jotting something down on his tablet.

"When Morey lost control just now, did you notice the jury?" Vincent asked in a low voice.

"All I noticed was that he looked like he was about to explode," Sean shrugged.

"Jury member #4, the middle-aged woman with glasses, showed clear aversion when Banks mentioned the yellow monkey. Jury member #7, the young Black man, frowned when Morey roared. These were key signals."

Vincent pressed the elevator button. "The jurors' opinions are important, and I'll use that."

As Sean walked out of the courthouse, he pulled his trench coat tighter.

"So, Mr. Carter, what do I need to do next?" Sean looked at Vincent.

Vincent stopped in his tracks. "I'll prepare Chen Kaiwen's defense. As for you, Pan—"

"You don't need to do anything extra right now. Don't tweet, don't give interviews."

"Then what should I do?"

"As long as you're alive, that's all that matters." Vincent opened the car door. "As long as you're still standing there, you'll be an inescapable thorn in their side. The rest, leave to me."

The car doors closed, and the black sedan slowly drove into the Newark night. Sean leaned back in the seat, watching the lights recede outside the window.

To live? It doesn't sound that hard.

>