Chapter 648: The Case of Arson and Wife Killing Eight Years Ago

"Mr. Michael, these are all the documents."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

After being released from prison, Michael first went to the store to buy a razor and sorted out his image in a simple hotel.

Then he went out into the street, looked around, and did nothing.

The next day Michael bought a ticket to New York and embarked on his final journey to get revenge.

Michael is a descendant of British immigrants. According to racial rhetoric, he is a real 'white man'. '

He looked very masculine, and when he was in the car, the little girls hinted at him, but all they got was shaking their heads with a smile.

It only added to his charm, but Michael didn't care at all.

His only thought now is revenge, and he will never forget the scene of his wife falling on the street with fire all over her body.

Those demons in white robes and pointed cocked hats burned her alive, and that scene was a nightmare that Michael would never forget.

So when those people found him and put the photos and addresses of the people who participated that night in front of Michael, he knew what he should do.

He has waited too long for this day.

...

...

On June 11, in New York, isolationism was increasingly recognized.

The main leaders of the First Athletic Committee gathered in Times Square, New York, and loudly called for slogans such as "be free, stay away from war, and make America independent".

Just as people shouted slogans, several shots fired in the square.

In the center of the rally, the four speakers who stepped on the wooden box died on the spot and two died. Then the shooter threw away the pistol and sat calmly on the ground waiting for the police to arrive.

The police were not far away from him, but the chaotic fleeing crowd at the scene made it impossible for the police to get close.

It took more than ten minutes before they finally squeezed into the crowd, fully armed and pointed their guns at the 'dangerous' murderer.

Michael was caught and charged with two counts of first-degree murder.

In court, Michael confessed to his crimes, and when the judge asked him why he did what he did, a slight smile appeared on his mouth.

"Your Honor, where is your wife from? England, France, Germany, Holland, Ireland or Spain?" Michael's tone was full of sarcasm.

"Mr. Michael, is this question related to the question you want to answer?" the judge asked in court.

"Yes... because my wife is from India, does anyone remember the arson and murder of my wife in the street 8 years ago? My name is Michael Tanlumba."

When Michael finished speaking, there was a brief dead silence in the courtroom, and then the exclamation suddenly sounded: "Michael Tamlumba, the arson case...God!"

Michael Tenrumba was sentenced to eight years in prison for the manslaughter of his wife after he put gasoline in a car and accidentally started a fire.

His wife fled from the car to the street, and she was completely burnt to death after crawling tens of meters. At that time, there was still a 6-month-old baby in her belly.

"Silence, silence..." The judge slammed the gavel vigorously, but it couldn't stop the noise of the people.

Because the incident involved white people and the largest anti-war organization in North America, it took place in the high-profile Times Square, so the trial was public.

There were not only government officials who were concerned about the trial, congressmen, members of anti-war organizations, but also the ace team of major newspapers.

"Mr. Tenrumba, is there any connection between these two incidents?"

"Mr. Tenrumba, are you saying that the judgment back then was wrong?"

"Mr. Tenrumba, is there any hidden secret here?"

"Mr. Tenrumba, are you avenging your wife and children?"

"Sir...Are you saying that white people killed your wife?" As soon as this question came out, there was a gasp in the audience.

Such a straightforward question is simply provoking a new round of social conflicts.

Which idiot is this, does he want to stir up opposition in the whole society?

When everyone turned their eyes to the questioner and saw the "Los Angeles Times" work card hanging on his chest, the corners of their mouths could not help but twitch.

The riots at the scene forced the judge to announce an adjournment, but the name of Michael Tamlumba appeared again in major newspapers and periodicals.

The next day, "Time Magazine" made a rare black-and-white photo on the cover.

On the cover was a black figure ablaze, with the title "Who's the Murderer?"

In the prison room of the court, a gloomy man sat in front of Michael, who said in a threatening tone: "I think you are very aware of your situation. You killed someone and no one can save you, but your words and deeds are very serious. It might cause other problems."

Seeing that Tan Lumba was silent, the other party leaned forward and lowered his head and whispered; "Even if you don't think about yourself, you should think about your family. They are old."

boom.

The door of the room was pushed open suddenly, in a neat suit and a briefcase in his hand, Saliev Gandaul Bar stood at the door with a smile on his face.

"I am the senior consultant of Mahathir's law firm, Saliev. From now on, we will provide free legal services to Mr. Tenrumba. If there is any problem, please let me know."

Saliev put the business card on the table and looked at each other with a smile on his face.

"This is not something you can interfere with. You should figure out who you are fighting against." The other party patted the table and stood up.

"With whom? The president?" Saliev smiled nonchalantly, and the four assistants behind him also walked in, and the small room was full of people.

"Write down what this gentleman said, 'We should find out who we are against,' is that what he said?" Saliev looked at the assistant and asked.

"That's right." The assistant gave a funny smile and shrugged his shoulders to record it.

"Damn it." Seeing his performance, the visitor wanted to jump angrily, and grabbed Saliev's collar as soon as he reached out.

"Wow..." Letting him grab himself, Saliev raised his hands and looked out the door, a camera was facing the inside of the house.

"Shoot it clearly, especially the face. By the way, let's take a close-up of him." Saliev smiled angrily.

After waiting for a long time to see that the other party didn't make a move, but his complexion turned blue and pale for a while, he couldn't help asking boringly; "Can you please hurry up? My hands are almost sore."

"You'll regret it." He let go of his collar viciously, pushed the camera at the door forcefully, and strode away quickly.

"It's really lucky...I thought I was going to the dentist today!" Saliev patted his wrinkled collar, and sat indifferently opposite Michael.

"Mr. Tanlunba, now let us think about how to make them pay the price." Saliev showed a meaningful smile.

He hasn't been excited for a long time to deal with those boring business cases every day. I hope this case will make him feel interesting.