Being carried onto an ambulance at the start? But this is America!

"Of course, don't get too excited, Bro."

Roland took out his phone, his slender fingers moving nimbly as he quickly swiped the screen, looking up information and talking as he read.

"You said you registered at the juvenile center at the age of seventeen, which means you must obtain the I-360 ruling from the juvenile court before your eighteenth birthday."

This is the most critical countdown. SIJS's overall approval process can be delayed until you're 21, but for the first hurdle, you only have a maximum of eight months left.

She raised her head and began to talk about legal provisions; her deep blue eyes appeared remarkably calm in the dim light.

"In Los Angeles, the normal wait for an I-360 hearing is at least a year. You can't afford to wait. If you want it to be faster, you have to pay extra—pay US dollars to expedite the process."

Time and money are the two things Li Ping lacks most.

"and,"

Roland turned off his phone screen and looked directly at Li Ping. "I can't work for nothing. My time, knowledge, and the relationships that may need to be used later all come at a price."

Helping you through the I-360 process, including preparing materials and guiding you through the process... will cost at least $1,000.

This is just a basic service fee and does not include any expedited court application fees or other miscellaneous charges.

She spoke at a steady pace, leaving no room for negotiation.

"You'll need to communicate with Ms. Marina yourselves. Submitting the materials will require her cooperation. She's a good person, so it shouldn't be difficult."

Li Ping took a deep breath and nodded vigorously: "Of course, Ms. Roland, it's only right."

In America, a lawyer's time is like gold, charged by the second.

A thousand dollars was a symbolic price of friendship for the life-changing help she offered.

There is no such thing as a free lunch, and there is certainly no such thing as a free lawyer.

"Bro," Roland corrected.

She pulled a piece of chewing gum from her pocket, peeled it open deftly, and popped it into her mouth, chewing it in a very manly manner.

"Don't call me lady, call me Bro!"

Li Ping instantly understood; this wasn't just a matter of preference in addressing someone: "Thank you, bro!"

"As for the driver's license,"

Roland nodded in satisfaction and continued, his thoughts as clear as if he were recounting a case.

"In California, anyone over 16 can apply, and the identity verification process is relatively lenient."

Get yourself a California driver's license that says you're 17. It's strong supporting documentation to prove you're a minor and directly helps with your I-360 application.

Of course, applying for a driver's license requires a fixed address and a series of supporting documents—none of which you have.

"Of course, none of that is a problem. In California, under AB60, undocumented immigrants can apply for a driver's license!"

She picked up her phone and opened WhatsApp.

"Add me, I'll recommend someone to you."

After finishing the procedure, she looked up, her tone carrying a hint of the confidence of a lawyer.

"Just say I referred him. The full service will cost $800. He specializes in this and has a decent reputation."

"Okay... I'll figure something out."

After listening, Li Ping rubbed his throbbing temples.

Ultimately, all roads leading to the right path have the same tollbooth at the intersection: making money.

In America, you can't get anywhere without Franklin.

In the following time, Roland explained the core logic of SIJS and I-360 to him in the simplest language possible.

Because she understood that Li Ping wouldn't understand anything at first.

The key is to have the juvenile court determine that he is a minor who requires special protection and is unable to return to his country of origin to be under the guardianship of his parents.

This ruling is the I-360, the cornerstone of an immigration application.

She can help prepare and organize the materials, but the applicant cannot be her, the lawyer. That would be too obvious and could be seen as trying to exploit immigration loopholes, leading to a direct rejection.

"In the ideal situation,"

Roland pointed to the void with his finger, "There is a local, legitimate welfare or public welfare organization that proactively filed an application with the court to intervene on the grounds that it 'discovered and paid attention to this teenager in need of protection'."

Ms. Marina was the perfect choice. She was white, older, devout, and respected in the church. Her testimony and intervention were a hundred times more persuasive than mine, a homeless lawyer.

The sheer volume of information overwhelmed Li Ping like a tidal wave.

The door of hope has indeed opened, but behind it lies a complex legal labyrinth, and the keys to unlock it are called "time is of the essence," "money is scarce," and "the cooperation of key figures."

He stood up, bowed deeply to Roland, and said, "Thank you very much, Bro! Really."

"ha!"

Roland smiled for real this time, revealing a row of neat teeth, and stood up to bump fists with Li Ping.

"This title sounds nice, and it's not a big deal for me, Bro. Let's figure out how to solve the 'Franklin' problem first."

I'll be checking the latest precedents and procedures over the next few days to ensure the best possible approach. I'll do my best to clear any legal obstacles for you.

"Furthermore, Bro, has anyone ever told you that your maturity and acceptance of unfamiliar environments far exceed what you would expect for a seventeen-year-old?"

Through their conversation, Roland grew to appreciate Li Ping even more—the kind of appreciation an older brother has for a clever younger brother.

Compared to you, those high school students raised with a "happy education" mentality are utter shit!

Li Ping smiled but didn't explain further.

If he were a high school student, he would be completely lost here. He was able to stay calm thanks to his experiences in two lifetimes.

As night deepened, the LED light under the bridge, powered by a solar panel, emitted a steady white light, barely illuminating the small living room area around the sofa.

The tents in the distant camp cast long shadows.

Just then, several tall figures cautiously approached.

A young white man with a rough shield tattoo on his arm led a middle-aged man in a faded military jacket, who looked flustered, over and was clutching a few crumpled pieces of paper in his hand.

"Attorney Roland, excuse me, this is Jack, a veteran. He... he's having a little legal trouble and might need your help."

The tattooed young man said politely, gently pushing the middle-aged man named Jack forward half a step.

The last trace of a relaxed smile on Roland's face vanished instantly, replaced by a professional indifference.

She took the document and squinted at it under the light: "A court summons? When did that happen?"

"Last week, the week before last."

Jack's voice was hoarse, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the hem of his clothes. "I was sleeping on a bench in Grant Park... The police said I broke the rules..."

"Article 647 of the Municipal Regulations - Unlawful intrusion and lingering in public facilities."

Roland read out the terms directly, his tone as calm as if he were reading a shopping list.

"A $250 fine, or 15 days of community service, Jack. The summons and court date—did you go?"

Jack's face immediately fell: "I...I forgot the exact date, and by the time I realized it, it had already passed..."

Roland sighed and pointed to a clear red stamp at the bottom of the document.

"Failure to appear in court as summoned has now been upgraded to an arrest warrant."

The next time the police see you anywhere, they can just shove you into the back seat of their patrol car.

Jack visibly swayed: "Then... what should I do?"

Roland remained silent for a few seconds, deep in thought.

Li Ping watched from the side, finding it all absurd.

Could someone face jail time simply for sleeping on a park bench and missing a court date?

This is the rule on the streets of America: even the smallest oversight can snowball into something devastating.

"Go and turn yourself in."

Roland finally spoke, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable force.

"Take the initiative to go to court to explain the situation and request a reschedule. Bring your veteran's ID; sometimes judges will take your situation into consideration."

As she spoke, she pulled out a cheap ballpoint pen and a small notebook from the inside pocket of her brown suit and began writing quickly under the light.

Li Ping knew there was nothing more for him to do here, so he nodded to Roland and turned to leave.

He headed to the other side of the camp, intending to ask Camilla about working and earning money.

Under Camilla's guidance, Li Fan clumsily but relatively smoothly set up the old tent.

Nearby, old Tom was squatting in his work area—a small hill made up of various discarded monitors, radios, microwave ovens and other electronic waste—and intently fiddling with the internal circuit board of a broken radio by the light of a headlamp.

His movements were steady and precise, a stark contrast to the panicked, limping old man he had been during the day.

"Old Tom is a hidden master."

Camilla lowered her voice and spoke to Li Ping, who was leaning closer, her tone filled with admiration.

"After he repairs these junk items and sells them through secondhand stores or online platforms, he can make at least a thousand dollars a month."

He almost saved enough money to rent a decent room using this, but unfortunately…

She didn't finish speaking, but Li Ping could roughly guess that it was nothing more than illness, an accident, or being scammed that shattered his hopes once again.