MMB Chapter 358 What is the will of the people? A secret plot in a locked room
Chapter 358 What is the will of the people? A secret plot in a locked room
Chapter 358 What is the will of the people? A secret plot in a locked room
Around noon, the whole of Boston seemed to be shaking.
A large group of people rushed to the Dead Rabbit Gang's billiards hall, selling off their No. 1 bonds in large quantities.
But because it was the last day of the trial, there weren't many people buying and selling bonds at the billiard hall. This group sold approximately 2...
Once they sold 10,000 copies, they could no longer be sold.
The problem is that these 2 tickets were sold at a very low price—the money recovered was less than $1.
Such a massive sell-off instantly drastically reduced the odds on no-bond bonds.
In the end, even a single No. bond was worth less than 10 cents.
The Dead Rabbit Gang members stared in disbelief at the massive sell-off. Some quickly telegraphed the news to their New York headquarters: "The trial is about to end!"
Someone is massively selling off their holdings of NO bonds. Do they know what the outcome will be?
The members of the Dead Rabbit Gang began to have all sorts of wild ideas.
On the other hand, the bystanders waiting on the outskirts also quickly received the news.
"Huang Meitang is definitely going to get away with it! Even the bookmakers behind him are starting to dump their votes!"
"Oh no! These bonds are going to go to zero! I still have some, I need to sell them right away!"
The large-scale sale of no-bonds triggered further panic in the market, and everyone holding tickets was in a state of high excitement.
Those holding "no" tickets had long lost interest in work and rushed to the streets and alleys, especially billiard halls, to immediately sell their tickets at low prices.
But who can sell them now?
The price of No. 1 bonds continued to fall, 9 cents, 6 cents, 4 cents —
Even when people know that gambling tickets are about to become worthless, they will still sell them at any price, no matter how low the value.
When the price dropped to 2 cents for 5, they stopped selling altogether.
The most anxious were the people Adams sent; they still had 23 no-bonds in their possession.
Adams said he would at least get 20% back. Now, not only 20%, but not even 10% has been recovered.
At first, Adams's men pretended not to know them and sold the goods separately, but now—
They have gathered together and are discussing what to do.
Besides them, the billiard hall was packed with people trying to sell no bonds.
"Anyone else interested? The trial results are at 5 PM this afternoon—if the Chinese man is guilty, you'll make a fortune!"
One of Adams's men shouted anxiously—
But no one stepped forward to acquire it.
At the billiards hall tables, everyone waiting to be bet looked anxious.
Just then, an arrogant man walked in. He glanced at the crowd, identified Adams's men from among them, and walked straight over.
The billiard hall was still noisy. The man leaned close to Adams's subordinate and whispered in his ear, "You wanted to sell, didn't you? Promise me this, and I'll give you $1 to buy all your No. bonds!"
Adams's men looked at the uninvited guest with surprise and confusion on their faces.
Regardless, being able to sell all the gambling tickets in hand, even if it only brings in $1, is acceptable!
Mr. Adams's order was to sell at any cost; if we sold everything, but only cheaply, he couldn't say anything.
But if you don't sell them and take these no-bonds back with you, you'll definitely get scolded!
Adams's men had already decided that as long as the other party's conditions weren't too harsh, they would agree!
As long as I can collect $1, my mission is complete.
"Name your terms!" Adams's subordinate urged anxiously.
"According to this—" The other person handed over a slip of paper.
Adams's men unfolded it and were immediately stunned. "What does this mean?"
The man looked impatient and pulled a thick wad of US dollars from his pocket. "Why do you care? If you want money, do it this way! It's your choice."
Adams's subordinate steeled himself, "You can't go back on your word!"
"If you do this, I'll pay you right away!" the other party said decisively.
"Alright!" Adams's subordinate, holding the slip of paper, began to announce at the top of his lungs, "Let's tell you the truth! We're from the Boston Savings Bank, and these are notes we're treating as speculative instruments. Who wants No-bonds now? They're at an unprecedented low price!"
Adams's subordinate's words elicited gasps from the crowd: "Boston Savings Bank?"
"So it was them! They acquired so many judicial bonds at once?"
"Stocks are considered bonds? Good heavens, banks are willing to do anything these days—"
"The owner of the Boston Savings Bank is Mr. Sheey, a Democrat—he was just recently saying that Chinese people are guilty; it turns out he's already placed his bets!"
"But isn't this even stranger? Even he knew that the Chinese man would be acquitted—he spilled the beans!"
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, but the uninvited guest had already smiled. "Very good! Here you go—"
The man took out $1, stuffed it into Adams's hand, and at the same time took all the remaining gambling tickets, put them in a bag, and quietly slipped out the door.
Adams's men patted the money in their pockets and quickly left the billiards room.
The crowd continued to chatter, but the "truth" had already been silently imprinted in everyone's minds: Boston Savings Bank was going to lose a huge sum of money this time!
Meanwhile, in the square outside the courthouse, the onlookers already knew their "yes" bonds were a sure win! Because the manipulators had dumped their "no" bonds until they had no price left.
Right now, in the crowd outside the courthouse, many of the "yes" bonds in their hands were given away for free by the Immigrant Community Services Association—some people took one, some took five!
If the price actually sells at the expected set price, they will earn at least a week's wages from these free bonds.
People could no longer contain their smiles and began shouting even more energetically!
"Chinese people are innocent!"
"Justice cannot be bought or sold!"
"We demand fairness! We demand justice!"
The jurors, gathered in the east wing of the courtroom, were urgently deliberating on whether the defendant was guilty or not guilty.
But hearing the shouts from the crowd outside the courtroom, they all felt a chill.
-
"Why would they think that?" someone asked.
"Good heavens! Why are there so many people outside?"
"Is this Chinese man truly innocent? How come so many people firmly believe in his innocence?"
"There are at least 5000 people outside the Boston courthouse today!" one juror exclaimed dramatically to the others. "My God! I never knew this would happen. Everyone is pledging allegiance to a complete Chinese stranger! It seems his innocence is God's will!"
"How could God protect a heretic?" another juror asked, frowning.
"Perhaps it's God, conveying some message to us through someone else!" the third person interjected.
But the first man's face was full of disdain. "You just don't understand—more than 20 years ago, there was an anti-government armed force composed of Christians on Chinese soil! My father saw it with his own eyes!"
The jury's conversation unsurprisingly went off-topic—but another fact was quietly planted in their minds!
The acquittal of Huang Meitang was not only the result of the jury's deliberations, but also the will of the people!
The jurors appeared to be encouraging each other to speak, but in their hearts they had already made their decision—not to go against the whole of Boston!
-
At 4 p.m., sunlight streamed obliquely through the tall arched windows into the courtroom, casting countless dust particles into the air.
These few hours of recess felt like an eternity.
A tense atmosphere filled the courtroom. The gallery was packed with people from all over Boston, who watched the judge and jury with bated breath.
Huang Meitang stood ramrod straight in the dock.
Several months in prison had made him lose weight, and dark stubble had appeared on his chin.
Barrett frowned and turned around suspiciously to look at a seat in the audience—the seat that should have been Mr. Sheey's.
But he didn't show up today!
Prosecutor Barrett thought she was just doing her job, fulfilling an agreement involving several parties—but to her surprise, at the last minute, this person backed out!
Barrett also received the news that people had started selling betting tickets on a large scale, and that everyone in Boston was convinced that Huang Meitang would be acquitted!
This absurd sense of powerlessness made Barrett nervous!
On the other hand, Judge Howe also received a legal opinion from the law school. According to judicial practice, this was merely a discussion and reference regarding legal principles.
But this unusual attention from professional peers made the judge himself feel inexplicably nervous.
In the defense lawyer's seat, Mr. Yung Wing frowned. He noticed that Larry, who had been by his side, had mysteriously disappeared since the morning recess and hadn't returned in the afternoon.
Was he in a hurry to take care of something?
"quiet!"
Clang! Clang! The magic hammer fell heavily.
This signaled that the trial was about to begin, and everyone stood up.
After the judge took his seat, everyone else sat down again.
The judge announced the reopening of the court and focused his attention on the jury, saying, "Gentlemen of the jury, please announce your final verdict."
The chief juror stood up. He was an elderly man with a wrinkled face and a somewhat weathered appearance. He held a folded piece of paper in his hand, which trembled slightly.
The judge, holding the quill pen, said, "You may read it now."
The lead juror cleared her throat; her voice was a little hoarse, but it was incredibly loud in the silent courtroom. "After deliberation, the jury finds no fault on the charge of murder against the defendant, Huang Meipeng—"
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the defendant's dock and then over the prosecutor's dock.
At this moment, the air seemed to freeze.
Huang Meitang's breathing stopped.
The Chinatown folks in the gallery held their breath, and the gentlemen in the audience nervously clutched the gambling tickets in their pockets.
Even the usually aggressive prosecutor, Barrett, clenched his fists nervously at that moment.
The juror finally spoke, his voice suddenly becoming firm, "—Our verdict is: Not guilty!"
These two words, like a bolt of lightning, instantly cleaved through the oppressive clouds in the courtroom.
Huang Meitang's body swayed violently; if his hands hadn't been handcuffed to the defendant's dock, he would have almost fallen. His face, which had remained taut...
His numb face instantly broke down.
Her eyes instantly welled up with tears, which streamed down her chapped lips.
Months of fear, humiliation, and despair transformed into silent weeping at this moment.
"God bless!" In the audience, Alice suddenly stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. She grabbed the arm of the person next to her, trembling all over.
Immediately afterwards, suppressed sobs and excited cheers erupted in the area where the Chinese community was concentrated. Some people made the sign of the cross, some clasped their hands together, and some shouted in their dialect, "Huang Meitang is innocent! This is the first time Chinese people in America have encountered something like this!"
On the judge's bench, Judge Hao frowned and brought his gavel down heavily.
"Silence! No noise is permitted inside the courtroom!"
Although his tone was stern, those familiar with the judge could see that the corners of his mouth seemed to turn up slightly.
Such a verdict is also a relief for the judge.
Prosecutor Barrett's face was ashen. He instinctively glanced at Yung Wing at the defense attorney's table. The other man's face remained as composed as ever.
But this seemingly confident calm only made Barrett feel more pain!
The judge picked up the verdict from the jury, carefully checked the signatures, and then looked at the defendant's dock.
"Defendant Huang Meitang," the judge's voice was authoritative and resonant, "given the jury's finding you not guilty, Ting, you are now officially released in court!"
After speaking, he turned to the bailiff and, with a sharp look in his eyes, ordered, "Unlock the handcuffs!"
The bailiff hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and took out the key.
"Snap!"
The cold, heavy iron shackles, symbolizing the criminal's identity, snapped open on Huang Meitang's wrists.
Huang Meitang subconsciously moved her wrist, revealing a red mark around it.
The judge continued, "After hearing the case, it was found that the prosecution failed to provide conclusive evidence to prove that the defendant committed a crime. Furthermore, the defense's claim of legitimate self-defense was highly probable. Therefore, this judgment not only releases the defendant but also legally recognizes his innocence."
Despite the warnings, the air in the courtroom was still thick with the sound of silent sobbing. Huang Meitang bit her lower lip, tears streaming down her face.
In the audience, Harvard Law School Dean Randall and Criminal Law Professor Thayer exchanged a glance and nodded.
Their legal opinion was actually for their own benefit—if Huang Meitang were found guilty without obstructing justice, then the value of observing the Harvard Law School proceedings would not be realized.
But if Huang Meitang is found not guilty—that would be of immense value to legal scholars!
This will become a classic case for law schools and bring Harvard Law School a better reputation and more students!
Now, the goal of auditing classes at Harvard Law School has been successfully achieved.
The judge looked at Huang Meitang, his tone softening, "Young man, you are free. Please remember, the law will respect the facts and uphold justice; it will not change its verdict because of your skin color!"
Huang Meitang bowed deeply to the judge and the jury to express his gratitude, "Thank you, Your Honor! Thank you, gentlemen of the jury, for clearing my name. Thank you for your fairness and for upholding the justice of the law!"
As Huang Meitang stepped out of the defendant's dock, she excitedly embraced Mr. Rong Hong.
After Huang Meitang hugged him, Rong Hong's face suddenly turned red, and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Finally—acquitted! This is the first time in history that we Chinese have received a fair verdict in an American court!"
Rong Hong looked at the blue sky outside the window, closed his eyes, and two cloudy old tears fell down his wrinkles.
Just as everyone in the courtroom stood up to leave, an extremely loud noise suddenly erupted from the roadside outside the window!
It resembled thunderclouds rolling across the horizon.
That's when the bystanders started cheering upon learning that Huang Meitang had been acquitted!
Most of them profited from the VES bonds they held, but a small portion were also genuinely thanking God.
But clearly, this intense emotion quickly infected everyone present. At least for that moment, people genuinely believed that justice existed on North American soil.
Just one hour after the court declared Huang Meitang innocent and released him, Larry was idly drinking whiskey and smoking a cigar in the safe room of the Black Knight Bar.
Beside him, Tiger was also silently drinking whiskey, silently guarding his employer.
They were all waiting for someone.
Just then, a tall Irish pub waiter walked over, knocked on the door, and said, "Sir, your guest has arrived!"
"Let him in!" Larry ordered.
A short while later, a man entered the safe house. He was wearing a smiling mask. Upon seeing Larry, he quickly took a few steps forward. "Very tall—"
"It's a pleasure to see you here, Mr. Livingston!"
Larry smiled and looked at Tiger. Tiger tacitly left the safe house and closed the door, leaving only the two of them inside.
After the door closed, Larry smiled, took a glass, poured some whiskey, and handed it to the other man. "Henry, did you just visit him? What did he say?"
Henry Goldman said with a laugh, "His attitude was very perfunctory—he thought I was just a Wall Street bill donor who came to Boston to expand his business."
Collary smiled and nodded. "That's right! You send him a telegram on Saturday, hand him your business card on Sunday, and visit him on Monday—it's just like a perfectly normal business visit. Mr. Sheey won't suspect anything."
Goldman nodded, a slight look of doubt on his face. "—Larry, are you really sure?"
"Of course!" Larry laughed, raising his glass and clinking it against Goldman's. They both took a sip of whiskey.
Goman hesitated for a moment, but still said, "—Even though it was your introduction, we'd better be clear beforehand: what do you think your expected rate of return should be?"
Larry waved his hand, "50/50 is fine! I provide the information, you provide the funds, and we split the profits 50/50. It's very fair."
Goman breathed a sigh of relief; he was particularly afraid that the other party would make an exorbitant demand. Hearing Larry say this, a look of relief appeared on his face.
"Is your friend's case closed?" Goldman asked.
Larry nodded, brought his glass to his lips, and said softly, "His job is done, now it's your turn—the real show is just beginning!"
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