Law America, the Devil's Agent

Let me know after you finish reading Chapter 86 (My head is still a bit foggy, so only one update today).

Overbrook, an Irish-majority neighborhood in Philadelphia's West End.

Just after the four o'clock bell rang at St. Patrick's Church on the street corner, a dark green campaign van pulled up in the parking lot in front of the community center.

The side of the vehicle features the slogan "Patrick Donovan - Fighting for Our Communities" and a shamrock logo.

It is worth noting that this text is written in Gaidel, and the clover symbol is also a special symbol.

Every single one of them exudes a strong Irish flavor.

In stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere in the community, a bustling scene of activity was underway inside this van.

The campaign office lights shone through the car window, where several staff members were busy organizing tomorrow's campaign schedule and flyer distribution routes.

Patrick Donovan leaned back in his seat, his red hair fluttering slightly, highlighting his pure Irish heritage.

He is also the father of André Donovan.

At that moment, the busy man loosened the knot of his dark green tie and unbuttoned two buttons at the top of his collar.

On the folding table in front of him were several constituency maps and a voter list, and the coffee next to him had gone cold.

In the past six hours, he attended three community rallies and shook hands with two union representatives.

He also gave a 15-minute impromptu speech at a luncheon at a senior center with a predominantly Irish population, and received two phone calls from constituency sponsors.

His voice was a little hoarse, and his eyes were dry and sore from staring at the documents for a long time, but his brain was still working at high speed.

The election has entered its final sprint, with less than two months left until election day.

His opponents:

Current Member of Parliament Tom Gallagher.

This man is using every means to get him out of the vote.

Every phone call could be a new breakthrough, and every meeting could be a lifeline.

He placed his coffee cup on the map to hold down the corners of the paper that had been curled up by the air conditioner, and refocused his attention on the campaign plan in front of him.

He needs to target several key groups among Irish voters.

Gallagher's campaign team has already leaked information that the Donovan family's influence in the Irish community is being weakened by the local party.

He needs to prove them wrong.

Just as Patrick Donovan's mind was racing, planning how to proceed with the next steps.

The carriage door was pulled open from the outside.

His campaign assistant leaned in halfway, looking somewhat hesitant, clutching a note that had just been torn from the visitor registration form.

"Mr. Donovan, someone outside wants to see you."

"You know the rules, now is a crucial moment."

Tell me who you are?

Patrick didn't even look up: "If you're a reporter, just say I'm not giving interviews right now."

If it's a bank, tell him to contact my financial advisor.

If it's someone sent by Gallagher, just go over there and slap him, then tell him to get lost.

"I understand all of that, but this guest is different."

He said he was a lawyer, sir.

Patrick's hand stopped above the map.

"Lawyer? What ethnicity? What's his background?"

"He's Asian, and his name is Link."

According to our investigation, he is a prominent lawyer from Curtis Institute of Law. He is a rising star in human rights and criminal debate.

Upon hearing this, Patrick stroked his chin.

Asian-lawyer-

This ethnic identity seems particularly jarring at this moment—

He had already cleared up all his legal affairs before announcing his candidacy, including contract disputes, tax audits, and more.

They even settled an old debt from over a decade ago ahead of schedule.

This is to ensure that the position of legislator is clean enough, reducing the possibility of attacks from others.

He doesn't need any legal trouble.

However, the sudden appearance of something that shouldn't be on the campaign agenda, especially from an unfamiliar law firm and an unfamiliar lawyer, is usually not a good thing.

But he couldn't refuse to see her.

He put down the red pen in his hand, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his throbbing temples.

"—Let him come over."

The man in the suit followed his assistant across the parking lot and stopped at the door of the van.

Patrick looked up and saw a Chinese man standing there in a charcoal gray bespoke suit, his demeanor unusually composed compared to any lawyer he had ever met.

There was neither the eagerness to promote oneself nor the condescending indifference.

He simply stood there quietly, waiting for Patrick to speak first.

"Mr. Donovan, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule."

My name is Link, and I'm an attorney at the law firm Curtiss. I'm also the Deputy Chief of the Criminal and Public Prosecutions Division.

"I've heard so much about you, Attorney Link."

Patrick nodded to him, gesturing for him to sit down in the seat opposite him.

Link sat down in the folding chair, placed his briefcase on his lap, and didn't open it immediately.

Patrick looked him up and down, his sharp eyes, honed by countless campaign debates, trying to find some flaw in the unfamiliar lawyer's face.

"Mr. Link, to be honest, I am somewhat resistant and disgusted by your arrival."

The arrival of lawyers often brings legal issues.

And now, what I hate most is legal issues.

My campaign team found nothing that required legal intervention when clearing up all potential legal risks for me.

I don’t recall having been involved in any lawsuits recently, nor do I have any contract disputes or tax issues to deal with.

So your visit has left me somewhat puzzled.

If someone hired you to investigate me, I can tell you directly that you've got the wrong person.

"No one hired me to investigate you, Mr. Donovan."

My visit this time has nothing to do with your election.

You personally have no legal issues to worry about.

17

Patrick's expression relaxed for half a second before tightening again.

If it's not about the election, then what is it?

He unbuttoned the top button of his collar, as if to give himself more room to breathe.

"What is that?"

"If it's not an election or a legal matter, Mr. Link, what brings you here to talk to me about?"

"Your family, Mr. Donovan."

Patrick let out a short laugh.

The laughter contained a sense of relaxation, impatience, and a hint of sarcastic irony, an instinctive defensiveness born from being offended.

He leaned back in his seat and said in a frank but clearly sarcastic tone, "My family?"

My wife passed away many years ago. Andrew is my only son. We have a very good relationship and there are no family disputes.

If you're asking about something—yes, I haven't remarried.

It's not because I don't have the opportunity, but because I respect my deceased wife. I don't want to just find someone else to fill the void in my life after she's gone.

So, lawyer, if you're trying to fabricate some family scandals about me and then escalate them to the legal level to attack me...

Then I'd like to leave now.

"Your loyalty and dedication to your family is admirable, Mr. Donovan."

You don't cause trouble, but trouble will come to you.

Your son Andrew is going through something, something you may not be aware of at all.

He placed his phone on the folding table, pushed over the constituency map with its curved marks from the coffee cup, and shoved it in front of Patrick.

A photo is displayed on the screen:

In the dimly lit corridor, a priest in a black robe bent down, placing one hand on the thin shoulder blade of a red-haired boy, his fingertips sinking slightly into the school uniform fabric.

The boy had his head down, clutching a sketchbook tightly in his hand, his shoulders trembling slightly beneath his black robe.

The silhouette of that red-haired boy ——————

Every morning when Patrick saw him off, he would see him standing at the door waiting for the school bus, a figure he could never mistake.

The candidate's fist gradually clenched.

Looking at the pair of gray-green eyes and red hair that were exactly the same as Andrew's, Link calmly said, "I understand that you are currently fully committed to the campaign and are handling your legal risks very carefully."

But some things can't be avoided just by being careful. This isn't trouble you caused; someone has slipped trouble into your home when you weren't looking.

I'm not here to ask for consultation fees or to extort you, Mr. Donovan.

I'm here to let you know that your son, Andrew Paterson, is going through something at his school that he's afraid to tell you.

After watching these photos and the accompanying video, you'll understand what you and your family are going through.