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Chapter 60: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
On the other side, after Director Johnson left the meeting, he waited outside the restaurant for a while, smoking two cigarettes before gritting his teeth and driving to Michael's home.
Mrs. Michael had finished her hospital treatment; her physical bruises had healed, leaving only the need for psychological therapy, which might continue for three to six months or possibly longer, depending on the circumstances. The prolonged therapy implied substantial expenses, and Michael's work had halted, abruptly cutting off the entire family's income.
Although he had some money in the bank, roughly over twenty thousand, it was insufficient to cover upcoming expenses. For ordinary people, especially those living in the lower-income area, psychological therapy might seem like a typical ailment for the affluent. Girls living near the chaotic streets of the lower-income area had grown up facing various harassments, from verbal to physical, even potentially violent situations. Logically, these people should’ve gone mad or lost their minds already, but it wasn't entirely the case.
Some had indeed spiraled into self-destruction, yet others remained resilient and optimistic. Pain could both harm and instill a longing for strength. It’s because one is in darkness, they yearn more for light—though these were all nonsense. Life is about living, and living demands resilience.
When Director Johnson parked his car outside Michael's home, he noticed a police car on the roadside and two officers having afternoon tea. They glanced briefly at Director Johnson before returning to focus on their sweet coffee and chocolate-covered donuts.
Although Michael had left the police station, he remained under surveillance, unable to leave his residence unnecessarily or communicate with outsiders alone. However, due to his previous 'status,' the police had slightly eased their watch, allowing him to talk to others without an officer present.
Director Johnson had visited Michael's home several times before and had always felt that Michael was a fortunate guy. He had a harmonious family, a thriving career, and a house imbued with an ambiance of beautiful positivity. However, this time, upon pushing the door open, a scent reminiscent of decay, like that from a grave, wafted out, unpleasant and instantly dampening his mood.
The room lacked lighting, with some windows covered by curtains, possibly due to Mrs. Michael's condition, casting Michael into darkness.
As the door opened, the outside light illuminated the room slightly, revealing more details. Michael sat on the sofa, looking withered compared to half a month ago—noticeably thinner, almost skeletal. His unshaven face added to his disheveled appearance, particularly his unkempt hair, now showing streaks of gray, as though time had fast-forwarded him into premature aging.
Michael glanced briefly at Director Johnson before turning his gaze back to the unlit TV screen, seemingly lost in thought. A sense of indignation rose within Director Johnson. At the tax office, where he was considered quite accommodating; he had expected to bond with everyone, but encountering someone like Michael was infuriating.
Not addressing it might seem a blow to his dignity, but at least, Michael should've shown some gratitude or appreciation. Here, the Director came to visit him amidst his trouble, yet Michael treated him as though he were invisible.
Quickly, this indignation dissipated. If he were genuinely angry, he might have been driven mad by these people long ago.
"What are you here for?" Michael's tone carried a hint of mockery. "To deliver my final judgment?"
Director Johnson was dazed for a moment. After his gaze was drawn to the newspapers on the coffee table, he understood where the problem lay.
In recent days, the newspapers debated whether there was a personal vendetta between Michael and Lynch, questioning whether Michael might have sought revenge using his power.
Revenge and law enforcement brutality were unrelated; these were isolated incidents. However, Michael's vendetta affected the tax department and law enforcement department. This softened the previous harsh criticism toward those departments from public opinion.
Furthermore, some people linked Michael, Michael Junior, and Lynch's past police reports of theft together.
Michael, a mentally and physically sound adult, possessed clear principles and independent thinking. He understood that when the media's narrative shifted, there were definitely people behind the scenes orchestrating this change.
The media aimed to portray him as a typical villain; they couldn't do it themselves as their focus was on law enforcement issues. Those capable of changing their narrative were some of the people behind them—this was Michael's insight over these days and why he now resisted Director Johnson's presence.
Director Johnson remained silent, unsure how to respond. His silence increased Michael's disappointment and despair, making him realize it wasn't his imagination; he was abandoned.
"Why?" He turned to Director Johnson. "Why is it like this? Whose decision is it?" His voice turned hoarse, as if there were grains of sand in his throat, causing each word and letter to feel distinctly rough.
Director Johnson's face slightly reddened, sighing. "It's a decision from above. You've put the whole system in a very bad spot..."
"In a bad spot, so I get abandoned?" Michael's frustration intensified with every word, his face turning rapidly red. With a hint of foam appearing at the corners of his mouth and his hair bristling in anger; his overall mental state seemed a bit unwell.
Seeing Michael's anger directed at him, Director Johnson suddenly regained a composed and steady demeanor. His gaze transformed, becoming difficult for Michael to decipher, slightly intimidating.
"You've always been impulsive, with a bad temper. I've warned you countless times..." Director Johnson's voice carried a hint of nostalgia, reminiscing about past times. "Since I became Director, over these ten years, complaints against you have filled more than half the Sabin City Tax Bureau's complaint box."
"Enjoys intimidating suspects, indulges in casual aggression, freely disrespects and humiliates others, and frequently acts without proper procedures—your behavior has numerous issues."
Johnson looked at Michael seriously. "Don't feel wronged; this is what you deserve. I've warned you, but you always do things your own way!"
"The times have changed; this is a new era. Perhaps in the past, we hadn't completely cleansed ourselves of wildness and brutality, but now we have achieved that."
"Even if you hadn't encountered Lynch, you would have crossed paths with someone like him. If you don't change yourself, you'll fall."
"Don't say we abandoned you; you abandoned yourself!"
Director Johnson's words brought Michael back to a state of calm, making him feel despondent. He couldn't help hugging his head in agony. He knew Director Johnson was right, but once a work style like this developed, it was hard to change.
No, it was more about ingrained beliefs. In Michael's eyes, criminals had no human rights. He had solidified this conviction through people like News Head.
As long as they weren't killed, they would pretend nothing had happened because inherently they were unclean, afraid to make any noise, only enduring in silence.
Until he encountered Lynch, a criminal who wielded law and the police as weapons—then everything changed.
He couldn't comprehend why it was Lynch, why it was himself, why it involved his family. Lynch that bastard didn't play by the rules!
Just then, the door upstairs opened. Michael's wife, looking somewhat unwell, stood anxiously by the corridor, gazing worriedly at the two men in the living room downstairs.
Director Johnson glanced back and reached out, patting Michael's shoulder...
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