Law America, the Devil's Agent

Chapter 70 Field Exploration Education is a Business (First Update, Please Subscribe)

Sacred Heart Elementary School is located in an affluent area on the western outskirts of Philadelphia, sharing a gentle slope surrounded by oak and maple trees with Sacred Heart Catholic Church.

Built in the 1920s, the church's Gothic Revival spire stands out solemnly against Philadelphia's gray skies.

The primary school buildings are located next to the east side of the church and were newly built ten years ago.

This elementary school was jointly founded by Sacred Heart Church and several charitable foundations. The board of directors includes both clergy and prominent business figures from Philadelphia.

The tuition is high, and admission requires letters of recommendation and an interview, but every year during application season, the school is still crowded with parents who want to send their children through its gates.

In their eyes, Sacred Heart Elementary School represents the "safest and most cultured" segment of Philadelphia's elite private education system.

It was right at the time of school dismissal, and the school gate was bustling with cars and people.

Children dressed in beautiful school uniforms walked out of the school gate in twos and threes. Some were picked up by their nannies, while others climbed into the back seat of private cars.

Two security guards in blue uniforms stood on either side of the school gate, with walkie-talkies hanging from their waists and stun batons in their hands, their eyes scanning the flow of people inside and outside the school gate.

The security is tight.

But just then, a figure in a gray hoodie slowly strolled over from the convenience store across the street.

This person was thin, with skin of mixed race that made it difficult to discern his specific lineage. He had his hands in his pockets, his back hunched, and he glanced at the layout of the school gate out of the corner of his eye as he walked.

He walked around a school bus parked on the side of the road and slowly approached the side entrance of the school along the sidewalk, his steps unhurried, like a wanderer with no destination.

Just as he was about to cross the invisible boundary at the edge of the school gate, a beam of strong flashlight shone directly into his face.

"Hey, sir!"

A campus security guard in a blue uniform was already standing in front of him.

At that moment, the switch on the stun gun in his hand was pressed, and a buzzing sound of electricity emanated from the metal contacts.

The security guard looked burly and strong, with a name tag on his chest that read "Sacred Heart Elementary School Security Department".

Hey, bro.

I don't think this is a place for you to buy medicine or take a casual stroll.

Did you go to the wrong place?

The hooded man stopped, raised his hands to indicate that he posed no threat, and gave an awkward smile.

"Oh, man, relax."

  

I just needed to find a place to relieve myself, and I happened to be passing by. Could I go in and use the restroom?

"I don't care if you want an injection or to suck up leaves—"

Bao An remained unmoved, simply taking a step forward and raising the stun gun to eye level with the other person, the electric shock increasing in volume: "I have no obligation to provide you with any services."

If you leave now, I can pretend I never saw you.

Otherwise, I'll call a patrol car right now, and you'll be sleeping in the police station tonight.

Hey buddy, relax! Relax!

There was no need to make it like this!

The man in the hoodie raised his hands higher and began to back away.

"Get away from me, you poisonous insect!"

The gray figure staggered back a few steps, then turned and ran, disappearing around the street corner.

The security guard stared at the direction he fled for a few more seconds before turning off the stun gun and picking up the walkie-talkie.

"An intruder has been removed."

The person appears to be of mixed race (Black and White), and may be a drug user. He is wearing a grey hoodie, dark trousers, and is approximately five feet ten inches tall.

Please have the surrounding gatekeepers take note.

He spat in that direction one last time, then returned to his post.

The hooded figure ran across two blocks and disappeared into a dark alleyway piled with discarded cardboard boxes.

A dark gray sedan was parked deep in the alley, and a burly Black man was leaning against the car door smoking.

It was Los Thomson.

A few months ago, he was a petty thug selling steroids in gyms and peddling psychedelic drugs in bars. Now, he's the second-in-command of the South African gang in North Philadelphia.

He had a lot of thugs and men under his control.

The hooded man stopped in front of Los, panting as he pulled his hand out of his pocket; his previous timid demeanor had turned into respect.

Mr. Los.

This school has more than twice the number of security guards compared to other schools under normal standards. There are two fixed guards at each of the front and back gates, and a mobile sentry at the side gate.

Their equipment wasn't the kind of gimmicky stuff that ordinary school security guards use—their batons were police-grade, their walkie-talkies had encrypted frequencies, and there were license plate recognition cameras installed at the entrance.

It's not the kind of place you can just climb over a fence to get in.

Los listened quietly, then took out a folded US dollar bill from his pocket, held it between his index and middle fingers, and handed it over.

The man took the banknotes, glanced at the denominations, his eyes lit up, and a genuine smile appeared on his lips.

Because this money is enough for him to go on a few more rounds of pleasurable treatments.

He turned and disappeared into the alley. Over the next half hour, three more different people entered the alley. Some continued to report on the location and number of security guards, while others discussed traffic habits around the school, shops and places frequently visited by students after school, and so on.

Everyone received a cash bill from Los and then disappeared at the end of the alley.

After dismissing all his informants, Los stubbed out his cigarette against the wall and walked out of the alley.

After turning two more corners, it stopped next to a black Cadillac parked on the side of the road.

He opened the back door and lowered his head slightly as he got in.

Link sat by the window, flipping through a document in his hand, without looking up.

Los pulled a lighter from his pocket, skillfully lit the cigarette Link had just put in his mouth, and then began his report.

"Mr. Link, according to our informants, the security at this school far exceeds the normal standard, at least twice that of a typical private school."

We've figured out the location, number, and shift change times of the sentries at the main and side gates, but it's very difficult to infiltrate them directly.

In terms of internal layout, all passageways between the main teaching building and the canteen and dormitory buildings are accessed by gates, and non-school personnel cannot enter.

The ratio of boarding students to day students is approximately one to three. Boarding students live in the dormitory building on the west side, and are taken by school bus to the adjacent Sacred Heart Church for worship every Saturday and Sunday morning.

In terms of the surrounding environment, although the school is affiliated with a church, it is highly commercialized. Several local business owners are on the board of directors, and the tuition fees are among the top five private elementary schools in Philadelphia.

The school's tight security stems partly from distrust of the security environment and partly from a desire to maintain the image of a high-end private school.

They spent a lot of money on walls, cameras, and security, but not on internal control.

He paused for a moment: "I've heard some rumors from the sidelines about the student complaints."

The school has a dedicated complaint mailbox, a formal complaint process, and an assistant vice principal responsible for handling student affairs.

These departments all remained unanimously silent about Alex's ordeal.

I don't think this is negligence—it's tacit approval.

Some people are protecting their reputation, some are protecting their colleagues, and some may simply be protecting their pensions.

Link listened quietly, flicked his cigarette ash, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.

He was already used to this kind of situation.

"In this country, the modern church has become completely commercialized!"