Law America, the Devil's Agent

"Anger...for myself..."

The prisoner opposite finally spoke a complete sentence.

His voice was hoarse and weak, each syllable having a unique dullness.

That's because the vocal cords haven't been used for too long.

He had shut himself off for far too long under the dual torment of mind and body and in this terrible, gloomy place of imprisonment.

Hearing this hoarse response, Link slowly sat down and let out a long breath.

My primary goal in coming here has been achieved.

"That's right, it's for your own sake."

Link continued in response:

"Those who framed you are still standing in the sunlight, dressed impeccably, expressing their 'deep shock' about your situation in the media."

Those corrupt and degenerate networks are still secretly devouring justice and harming and tormenting all living beings.

I need you to pull yourself together.

Your case was previously delayed by an incompetent person.

I am fully prepared and determined to win, and I will fight a brilliant comeback for you.

Nathaniel took a trembling breath, then rallied his spirits and spoke again:

"Attorney Link, tell me what you've prepared. What do you know?"

Link nodded slightly, his expression returning to its usual calm, already in the zone.

"First of all, I took over your case temporarily."

Before me, your lawyer was Robin Klein, who acted on impulse and emotion; he had no preparation or planning whatsoever.

So when I took over, everything started from scratch.

However, I did not sit idly by and wait for my doom.

I found several loopholes in the evidence structure of the hospital and the prosecution that should not exist.

Then, by chance, I found a hidden informant inside the pharmacy of Philadelphia General Hospital through a gang informant.

His name is Steve. You should know him.

  

"I know, the pharmacist at that pharmacy."

"Yes. It's him. Steve confirmed to me that there was indeed a systemic outflow of drugs from within the hospital."

Under the direct supervision of the pharmacy manager, those scarce controlled drugs were diverted to outsiders, mainly ending up in the territory of the Blood Hand Gang.

But this information only proves that there is corruption in the hospital, not that you are innocent, so I need more information.

During my subsequent investigation, I went to your home and met your family.

But I can sense that you don't tell your family much about your work.

Nathaniel lowered his eyes, his voice hoarse and weary:

"Yes, because I'm taking a dangerous path."

I know what role I'm reporting.

I don't care if they retaliate against me, but my family is innocent.

I didn't tell them much; I thought that as long as they didn't know, they wouldn't be implicated because of me.

"You are a responsible person and a family-loving person."

Link paused for a moment, then became more direct: "But I think you didn't tell your family, but you definitely told someone else."

Your student, your friend.

Under the vows of the church, we are companions who walk the path of medical ethics with you.

Nick Quixote.

Upon hearing this, Nathaniel closed his eyes, and tears welled up in his deep-set eyes once more.

"Nick. I met him at a community party."

He was so kind back then, but at the same time, he was so cowardly and timid.

He told me that he was in poor health, so he dreamed of becoming a doctor so that everyone could be free from the torment of illness.

Later, we became partners who were both teachers and friends, and I began to help him.

After I performed that surgery on him, I completely changed his heart.

He wants to study medicine!

So even in that kind of family, he went against the tide and eventually became a doctor.

I am undoubtedly happy for him, because we are both professionals in the same field, and our moral principles and values ​​are very similar.

Later, after he started his internship, he began to come to my office more and more frequently, and he started asking me questions.

—Regarding drug inventory, surgical records, and minutes of a meeting of the hospital administration committee.

These are exactly the things I, filled with a sense of justice, am searching for, and I never expected that he would also notice something amiss.

Therefore, I regarded him as a close friend who could overthrow this corrupt network, and we began to communicate frequently.

Then... he died.

Nathaniel raised his hand and slowly pressed his palm against his eyes.

"He still has such a long life ahead of him. His journey as a doctor has only just begun."

Why him? Why not me?

"Because he's not qualified."

Link's voice was calm and cold:

"Because he can't take the blame that Philadelphia General Hospital wants, and there's no record of him writing a whistleblower letter."

He has no psychiatric records and is not qualified to be portrayed as a "serial killer" in the media.

He was just a nobody, an insignificant and pitiful student.

But once such a nobody gets involved with you, he becomes a thorn in their side.

So they killed Nick, pinned the blame on you, and achieved two goals at the same time:

We'll get rid of you, the whistleblower, and then we'll cut you off as the only assistant to the whistleblower.

Nick is your companion on this journey, and also your witness left outside.

He's dead, and you're completely isolated.

That's their logic. Cruel, but precise.

Nathaniel inserted his index finger into his hair and covered his face with tears.

Link didn't give him time to wallow in grief and continued:

"Furthermore, your situation is completely different from Nick's. Your relationship with your family is essentially the opposite of Nick's relationship with his own family."

You have a loving wife, a warm family, and a supportive community.

But Nick's mother was an alcoholic, and his father, Holland, was a drug addict.

This father is currently transporting illegal drugs to the Blood Hands gang on behalf of Philadelphia General Hospital.

A father who had just lost his son began exchanging hospital-prescribed medications for cash just days after his son's funeral.

My men photographed his new pickup truck, the new beer crates piled up in his yard, and the way he hauled controlled drugs to the Blood Hand Gang's territory at night.

He placed the last photograph in front of the glass partition.

The photo shows a close-up of Holland Quays unloading a cardboard box from the back of his pickup truck; the orange seal of Philadelphia General Hospital is clearly visible on the box.

Nick is your student, your comrade-in-arms, and the person you trust most on this path.

Nick's father, however, was the one who pushed him to the brink of death.

He personally turned his own son into a passport for him to enter the hospital's corrupt network.

A young man who worshipped justice was sacrificed by his own father to this filthy network of corruption.

Now he's dressed in mourning clothes, standing at the prison gate, shedding tears in front of the media cameras.

This is such a huge irony and joke.

Nathaniel did not answer. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his lips trembled silently.

"Damn Holland, damn poisoner!"

"That's it, stay angry. That's what your opponent fears. But at the same time, you can't let yourself get carried away with it."

Link interrupted him, then switched his tone back from empathy to business acumen.

"I have grasped the general facts of the hospital's corruption network."

But I am not you, after all, who has been investigating for so many years.

My thoughts on the internal architecture:

The specific hierarchical structure, personnel division of labor, key decision-makers, and other details are not yet fully pieced together.

I need you to keep an eye on what you've accumulated over the years.

At the very least, tell me who is in the corruption network of the general hospital, and what specific roles they are responsible for.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and opened his mind to a list that had been drawn up over several years.

"The illegal drug smuggling network at Philadelphia General Hospital has three layers."

The lowest level is the distribution channels outside the hospital.

Some of them were gang members, some were truck drivers for outsourced waste disposal companies, and others were bribed community pharmacy operators.

They are the skin and bones of this network, only responsible for transportation and distribution, and they don't know who's above them.

The middle layer consists of a significant number of attending physicians and resident physicians; they are the flesh and blood of this network.

They were responsible for issuing fake prescriptions and falsifying surgical medication records, using internal hospital purports to ensure these illegal drugs passed through the accounting process.

"At the upper levels of the network, there are three core members related to the Philadelphia General Association."

At this point, his long-buried memories were awakened, and his voice regained its strength:

"Pharmacy Director, Thomas Sherol."

He is the central node of the entire network.

Every batch of controlled drugs that leaves the pharmacy warehouse requires his personal signature for confirmation at every stage, from batch number cancellation to loading and transportation.

Without his cooperation, none of this business would have been possible.

Specially appointed psychological director, Alan Morrison.

His job was not to sell drugs, but to detain and suppress dissidents who discovered their network in the hospital.

He uses psychiatric diagnoses and forced medication to lock a normal person into the label of mental illness, ensuring that anyone who tries to resist the network is branded as 'untrustworthy' before they even open their mouths.

He wasn't the main money-maker for this network, but he was its security manager.

The third is the head of logistics, Lydia Wylant.

She was in charge of logistics and support.

All prohibited drugs transported out of the hospital must pass through the logistics department at the export mark.

Her signature is the final legal formality for the medicine to leave the hospital.

Above these three individuals, there is at least one decision-maker at the vice-dean or even dean level.

But I spent three years and still couldn't figure out who it was.

This person never directly participates in transactions; whenever there's news circulating internally, it's relayed down through these three individuals. He keeps himself very well hidden.

The only thing I'm certain of is that he's in a high enough position to unilaterally overturn the council's investigation decision.

Link quickly absorbed this information into his memory, one piece at a time.

Benny was scribbling furiously beside him, his notebook filled with dense, messy handwriting, each line a list of evidence that would later have to be honored.

"There's one more thing."

Regarding the four victims, I need to understand their relationship with you on a more precise level.

Because in order to overturn the prosecution's charges, in addition to the main theme of hospital corruption, a reasonable explanation is needed for the specific details of these four murders.

Do you have any other impressions of these people besides your student Nick Quixote?

Reflect on your daily relationship, especially whether there are any hidden conflicts or hatreds.

What other strange and suspicious aspects are there?

Nathaniel shook his head.

"Besides Nick, the other three victims were my patients."

They were all elderly women.

They were all very friendly and never had any conflict with me.

Their surgeries all went smoothly, and their postoperative follow-up records were all normal.

I know the prosecution is using the traces of anesthetic in their bodies as key evidence to indict me—

But that's precisely where their brilliance lies.

All four victims had been treated or hospitalized at Philadelphia General Hospital and had undergone surgeries or examinations that required anesthesia.

The killer only needed to obtain these anesthetics from the pharmacy's illicit stockpile, increase the dosage, dump the body at a location across counties, and then use my surgical records as evidence for the timeline.

This was not a random act; it was a carefully planned frame-up.

Every victim happened to be connected to me, every death occurred at the perfect time for the police investigation, and every piece of evidence pointed to me—

However, every lead, once traced to its end, relies on the Philadelphia General Hospital's internal drug management system and surgical records.

These systems are all under their control.

So they can fabricate evidence where I can't reach it, and I'm locked up here, just waiting for a bunch of altered documents to be accepted as fact.

Hearing this, Link couldn't help but nod.

"Therefore, in this so-called four-person serial murder case, we can't do much more with the other three people. Our breakthrough can only be found with that innocent Nick."

"That's right. It's an irrefutable fact that three of these four people are patients, and I have no way to deny it."

But perhaps Nick is the only one who offers a glimmer of hope.

Link nodded.

He then leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands on his knees, and his tone became cautious again.

"Nathaniel, I have one last question."

When you were arrested, I did not see any of your complaint letters or evidence regarding the hospital.

It should be stored in the filing cabinet at home.

But I've been to your house, and those filing cabinets were empty. Where is that thing?

Nathaniel's eyes flickered for a moment, then dimmed.

"Those things have been continuously handed over to me over the years, and I have also been constantly adding to and replacing them."

He was divided into two parts before I went to prison.

One of the documents was originally kept at my home, but the hospital should have disposed of it immediately after I went to prison.

—That thing can't possibly still be there.

The other one... I gave to Nick Quis.

Before he died, I asked him to keep it for me.

But he died without telling me where he hid the things.

And I was accused of killing him and imprisoned in this jail.

I don't know where this evidence is now.

Link's gaze sharpened.

This answer matched his premonition—

Nick Quix possessed a crucial copy of the evidence, but its whereabouts remain unknown.

The hospital has yet to find this document!

Otherwise, they wouldn't need to keep guarding the prison gates, and they wouldn't need to have Holland Quays keep shouting slogans at the prison walls.

This means that the last card Nathaniel Hawthorne and Nick Quix have left in this world has not yet been revealed.

He stood up and straightened his suit.

"I understand. Leave the rest to me."

Nathaniel slowly stood up as well.

He was still thin, and his back was not completely straight, but he raised his head.

He looked at Link, whose eyes still held traces of confusion and weariness, but beneath those traces, something had begun to reignite.

"Attorney Link"

Thank you for your service and for your encouragement.

Thank you for not giving up on my case and for continuing to work hard to move it forward.

Thank you for your words that restored my confidence. I had been lost and confused amidst countless experiences and despair.

I had even forgotten my anger and resentment, but you brought them back to me. Thank you.

"You're welcome. Mr. Nathaniel is in prison; I hope you take good care of yourself and stay safe."

Waiting for the trial, waiting for my good news.

Okay, I look forward to seeing you again.

Link tucked his briefcase under his arm, turned around, and walked toward the door.

The man behind the glass slowly stood up and headed back towards the cell.

He pushed open the door to the meeting room, walked under the row of buzzing fluorescent lights in the corridor, and then ran straight out of the Freedom Room.

Benny followed closely behind him, clutching the notebook filled with notes tightly in his hand.

"Team leader, where are we going now? What's the next step?"

"Go find what Nick Quix left behind, and investigate the cause of death of this boy who sacrificed himself for justice."