The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 202: Death by Suicide]

In the late hours of the night, Fox News' Midnight News showcased a brand-new anchor in their headline segment.

Harley stood in the studio, and the moment the live broadcast began, she suddenly became incredibly calm.

The photos, videos, and text materials she had painstakingly collected over months appeared on the news screen, expertly edited.

As a voiceover, Harley articulated the connections present in the evidence.

She detailed each missing girl's identity, their time in Los Angeles, where they stayed, their activities, their status when they disappeared, and their training in acting classes. She not only explained each case but also provided corroborative evidence.

All of it pointed to the Super Star Training School and producer Broderick from Ackerman Films, along with his successor, Guerrero.

The television then aired the full video of Harley following Lena in her car, along with the relevant audio recordings of their conversations.

This included the moment the black Mercedes dropped Lena off and sped away, after which Lena was rescued by the LAPD.

...

However, the news broadcast didn't garner much attention.

Compared to the scandal of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith, along with their Red Table Talk, it paled in comparison.

Societal news couldn't compete with celebrity gossip.

Of course, this news wasn't aimed at the ordinary viewer.

Roger Ailes had never met Hawke and was unaware of his involvement, yet he chose to follow the path Hawke had laid out.

This route aligned perfectly with Fox's stance and interests.

For many, it was a sleepless night.

...

At the headquarters of the Ackerman Charitable Foundation in Santa Monica, in Chairman Barack Bernanke's office, Carl had just arrived. He sat on a single sofa, watching the Midnight News on television, his face a dark shade of unhappiness. When the broadcast switched to the studio and Harley appeared, he said, "When I looked at the woman in the Cadillac, she seemed just like her."

"Forget about her for now," Barack replied. He had personally reported the situation to Melissa Ackerman, who had berated him soundly.

This was a serious matter, affecting not only Ackerman Films but also many bigwigs connected to the Ackerman family.

Ackerman Films had obtained so many girls through the Super Star Training School and various overseas channels, not for their own enjoyment but to satisfy the perverse cravings of numerous powerful individuals.

Though uncertain, Barack could easily guess from the hospitality extended to the Clinton couple in Los Angeles that the pleasure-seeking circle in Los Angeles ran deep and was not limited to just them.

This operation couldn't cease; if it did, the losses would be significant.

Barack asked, "Has everything been taken care of at the Beach Club?"

Carl, who had just come from Venice, replied, "Everything that needed to be moved has been moved; the club won't exist after tonight."

Barack nodded. "The two most critical points are Guerrero and Broderick; they know the inside story."

The former was of little concern, but the latter had a good relationship with Carl. It was he who had gone to the hospital to warn the toothless Broderick to keep his mouth shut.

Carl felt somewhat troubled, saying, "Broderick hasn't said a word."

Barack was friends with Broderick too, but for his safety, some things had to be done. He said, "Make sure he never speaks again."

Carl's hands tightened on the sofa's armrest, sighing as he said, "I understand."

Barack then added, "Get rid of anyone and anything that poses a risk."

"I'm on it," Carl said, leaving the office without another word.

...

Suddenly, the phone in the office rang.

Barack answered, "Mr. Ackerman..."

On the other end was Buddy Ackerman, the head of Ackerman Group: "Melissa has gone to Sacramento; you clean this up."

Melissa was the CEO of Ackerman Films and Buddy's daughter.

Barack said, "I've failed to do my job."

"There's no such thing as perfect. Given enough time, the whispers will come." Buddy expressed great leniency toward his subordinates. "They will need our funds for a future comeback; don't be too disheartened."

Barack understood the implication -- beyond just needing funds, they required that special platform to lure more people aboard.

...

Venice, Beach Club.

The heavy iron gates swung open, the lights went out, and a gasoline scent wafted out.

Suddenly, flames erupted; with a whoosh, the club was engulfed in fire.

The roaring flames lit up half the sky, as they wrapped around the club's entire structure.

Soon, a passerby called 911.

The nearest fire station received the alert, but due to equipment malfunctions, they couldn't head out immediately. They made sluggish progress after they eventually left, their efficiency shockingly low.

Half of the Venice Beach sky shone bright with the fire.

...

In the southwestern part of Santa Monica, very close to Venice, Hawke received the news. Climbing up to the rooftop terrace, he took out his binoculars to gaze southwest, where the night sky had turned red.

This night would not be quiet.

Including Hawke, far too many people couldn't find peace or sleep.

...

In Downtown Los Angeles, the FBI field office.

In an interrogation room, Jennifer Huey, arms crossed, watched the roaring fire on the television screen and asked Owen, who was strapped to a chair, "You went to this place, right? You've seen the previous news, and now the live broadcast; what do you think?"

Owen's face turned ashen, but he said nothing.

Jennifer chuckled softly, saying, "It's okay; we'll let you go first thing in the morning, give you your freedom."

No matter what, Owen had once been Mayor Culver, and he understood immediately, replying, "I covered up my son Pratt's bullying, allowed armed threats against the bullied's family, and interfered with judicial fairness; you can't let me out!"

Jennifer seemed to ignore his words: "I will release information that some of the news tips Fox received were provided by you!"

She turned around, coldly staring at Owen: "Tomorrow when work resumes, I'll notify your lawyer to accept your bail."

Owen shut his eyes; he dared not gamble on their conscience.

Politicians had their eyes only on benefits, where was the conscience in that?

He said, "Fine, I can answer your questions, but you must guarantee my safety!"

Jennifer addressed her two subordinates, "Let's get started!"

Before long, Owen mentioned the name of Governor's aide Foster.

Jennifer knew time was of the essence; she took down notes quickly and left in a hurry.

...

In California's capital, Sacramento.

On 10th Street, in a campaign office featuring Arnold Schwarzenegger's face.

A fax arrived via a secure line.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, who was dozing lightly in the waiting room, was immediately awakened by his assistant.

He read the fax, stating, "Wake everyone up; we need to have a meeting now."

The seven aides of Schwarzenegger's campaign team quickly gathered in the meeting room.

These individuals not only handled the campaign but represented various factions within the party.

The fax copies were distributed, and the team studied them closely.

Well aware he wasn't any seasoned politician, Schwarzenegger directly asked, "What should we do next?"

Campaign manager Daniel Keitel, experienced in the political arena, responded, "This situation almost guarantees us a victory in the recall election, but how we handle it for maximum profit is what we should consider."

Public relations head Steven Zhang stated, "Given the described situation, if I'm not mistaken, the donkeys have begun to take action."

Upon hearing Steven's explanation, the previously restless atmosphere in the meeting room immediately calmed down.

The donkeys had plenty of dark secrets, but how much better were the elephants?

If they were cornered and driven to desperation, what might they unearth?

Schwarzenegger knew his own hands weren't clean, and with a wife from the Kennedy family, a fire in the backyard would be troublesome.

He looked at Daniel, saying, "Let's not be too extreme in our approach."

Daniel considered then said, "How about we send someone to make contact with Gray Davis's people?"

Schwarzenegger agreed, "Sounds good."

This was a task fit for Daniel Keitel.

...

Meanwhile, in San Jose Prison.

Two guards were making their routine night rounds when they soon arrived at the isolation unit.

This place was primarily for serious offenders, with only a few exceptions.

For instance, Broderick in cell No. 11 was tortured so severely that someone outside paid money to put him in an independent prison area and enjoy solitary confinement.

While that group of old black inmates brutally bullied him for not having teeth and filled him with milk daily, they also used a green bottle of happy water and high-concentration pepper spray.

More disturbingly, Broderick seemed to be adapting, almost enjoying it a bit.

The two guards signed the inspection log and continued to walk, checking each cell.

Upon arriving at cell 11, they suddenly sensed something was off.

A pair of pants twisted into a rope was fixed at the top of a bunk bed, with the other end wrapped around Broderick's neck, hanging him up.

The guards quickly pulled out their walkie-talkies to report the situation.

Soon, chaos erupted as more guards and doctors arrived.

But Broderick had long since drawn his last breath.

The duty officer that night initiated a routine internal investigation and discovered that the surveillance had malfunctioned, failing to capture anything. The on-duty personnel all stated that everything had been normal.

Such incidents generally led to a mutual agreement to minimize responsibility, tacitly understood within the prison.

Before long, they reached a consensus that Broderick had died by suicide.

There were still some formalities to conclude, but the suicide ruling wouldn't change.

This way, everyone saved time and effort.

Almost simultaneously, a driver named West had a fatal accident while drink-driving, plunging from the steepest part of the Pacific Coast Highway.

A single woman named Meriel, having gotten high, drowned while soaking in her bathtub.

*****

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