Miss President wants to talk to you

Smith thought for a moment and came up with the answer.

So that's how it is, Hopkins. I've seen through you.

You want to go all the way with this act, huh?

The call was made by Eleanor, and Perry's location was reported by himself; both are just his own accounts.

Does anyone know if Perry is actually in Waterley County?

Maybe he's in the studio next door?

In fact, Smith had considered an even more terrifying scenario.

But that situation was truly terrifying.

Smith didn't dare to think about it further and instinctively rejected the idea.

He will only believe what he wants to believe.

"Mr. Hopkins."

At this point, Smith spoke up, wanting to explain himself.

“The Waterley Valley is very large, and there are a lot of workers.”

He said, "If someone breaches the contract, is afraid of taking responsibility, and leaves the farm without permission, it does not prove that there is a problem there."

That's a beautifully said statement.

Running away doesn't necessarily mean there's a problem with the farm.

It's also possible that the workers themselves broke their promises.

The listeners who had just expressed doubts suddenly hesitated again.

But there are still some things that can't be explained.

Why would Perry say someone died?

Eleanor did not refute this.

He simply continued to ask:

"Mr. Perry, why do you say that someone died inside?"

"What exactly does 'inside' refer to?"

A long silence followed on the phone.

Perry seemed to be mentally preparing himself before daring to say that name.

"...Fourth District".

“The Fourth District?” Eleanor asked immediately. “What’s that place?”

“That’s deep in the Waterley Valley, a place under strict surveillance.”

Perry's voice began to tremble; the mere memory was already causing him immense pain.

"There are guard towers, barbed wire, rifles, and guards watching day and night..."

"Anyone brought inside who tries to escape will be shot without hesitation by the guards!"

"I'm the only one who came out of there alive..."

The words fell.

A deathly silence fell over the entire Federation.

In the federal country club.

The people who were cheering for Smith just moments ago are now silent.

The group exchanged glances.

Without prior arrangement, they both saw a bright red word above each other's heads.

Dangerous!

In a tavern in the metropolis.

Someone suddenly slammed the cup on the table.

"What Fourth District? Isn't that a slave labor camp?"

"Didn't Smith just say that the Southern tradition is to treat workers like family?"

"Is this how they treat their family?"

Los Angeles, a predominantly Black neighborhood.

A group of African American workers wanted to have a few drinks and listen to the radio after get off work to relax.

But at this moment, there was no relaxed expression on their faces.

The fear from long ago gripped the hearts of every Black person.

"Is it 1933 now?"

"The South is still practicing slavery?"

"Is this the Southern tradition that Smith was talking about?"

Once the idea took hold, it could no longer be suppressed.

A sense of relief rose in their hearts; thankfully, they were in the western part of the Federation, not the southern part.

but

I don't know why.

Tears streamed down her face.

……

The broadcasting room.

Smith finally couldn't sit still any longer.

"This is a baseless slander!"

He slammed his fist on the table, speaking with great passion and fervor.

Smith has to provide an explanation.

Otherwise, the entire South would be doomed!

“It is not surprising that a farm with more than two thousand workers would experience isolated incidents of violence.”

"If someone is indeed illegally detaining workers, it must have been done by lower-level managers without authorization!"

Speaking of it.

Smith seemed to suddenly remember something, so he leaned closer to the microphone and shouted into it.

"Is the supervisor of the Fourth District you mentioned named Jack Hall?"

Perry hesitated for a moment: "Is...is that right?"

He was just an ordinary worker and didn't even know his supervisor's name.

"That's right!"

Smith immediately grasped at this lifeline.

"I've heard of Hall."

"He has a violent temper and has been warned in the past for beating workers."

"Preston, who is my son, was spared from being fired only because he had worked for him for many years."

"If this really happens in District 4."

"That must be Hall abusing his power behind the company's back!"

Smith spoke with absolute certainty.

Even the Southern congressmen outside the radio station, who had fallen into despair, seemed to have found hope again.

Smith is right!

Absolutely right!

It's normal for bad people to be on a big farm!

The South is generally doing well!

However, on the radio...

Smith had barely finished speaking.

Suddenly, a violent struggle could be heard from the other end of the phone.

"Let me go!!!"

Let me speak!!!

Give me the phone!!!

Someone seemed to be trying to stop it.

Available in the next second.

An extremely angry voice burst into the microphone.

"Smith! Stop talking nonsense!"

This angry curse.

It was transmitted instantly throughout the entire federation via radio waves.

All the listeners were stunned.

Someone actually dared to point their finger at a senator and hurl insults at him on national radio?

Smith's expression changed as well.