Part 74
“Have someone keep an eye on the vehicle loss reports. If there’s any related police alert today, we need to investigate immediately.” Wallace Franklin glanced approvingly at Julian Grant and agreed, “We really shouldn’t make the search area too broad. Since Nancy Dawson is still in the city center, we’ll focus our deployment there. If she wants to escape smoothly, she’ll have to come out eventually.”
Wallace Franklin pulled out a map, studied it carefully, and then circled several red dots on it.
“At these major intersections with heavy traffic, check vehicles leaving the city center under the pretense of DUI checks. These smaller roads usually have little foot traffic, so we can just review the surveillance footage. Pay special attention to these intersections—check the IDs of any suspicious pedestrians. If Nancy Dawson wants to leave, she’ll have to pass through these spots. Tech staff should continue tracking the use of Nancy Dawson and the two deceased’s ID cards. As long as we’re thorough enough, she won’t be able to hide.”
Everyone realized that all these were the most basic and grueling tasks—nothing glamorous about them.
“Isn’t there any high-tech solution?”
Wallace Franklin patted the other’s shoulder encouragingly, “Humans are the greatest high-tech in nature—use your initiative. Don’t just stand around, get moving! Whether we succeed depends on how meticulous everyone is!”
Before their enthusiasm could even build, a police officer downstairs hurriedly reported to Wallace Franklin, nervously saying, “Captain, the media is here!”
Chapter 47: Responsibility
Wallace Franklin shuddered at the word “media,” body and soul alike, as if he’d just heard of an invading army or a terminal illness.
It wasn’t that he disliked the media. Everyone has their own role in society, all aiming for harmony and progress. But because of differing professional demands, cooperation between the two often led to unpleasant experiences, making him resistant.
Wallace Franklin asked, “Which media outlet?”
“Several!” the officer replied. “Some are popular online media companies in recent years—they’ve reported on Nancy Dawson before… the negative kind.”
Wallace Franklin braced himself, “Set up the cordon, close the curtains, don’t let reporters photograph the crime scene. Is there anyone nearby with PR experience? Have them go out and explain things to the media. Remember, anything related to the case that hasn’t been verified must not be disclosed!”
The officer said, “But it seems they already know about Nancy Dawson.”
Wallace Franklin felt faint, barking, “Who said that?!”
The officer replied miserably, “The kidnapped hostage did. The media interviewed her—she said Nancy Dawson was the killer, saw Nancy Dawson kill someone with a knife. She also said she was threatened and kidnapped by Nancy Dawson with a knife, almost died. The media filmed the whole thing—we couldn’t stop them. What should we do now?”
Wallace Franklin felt a sharp pain in his chest, nearly suffocating.
The officer, not done yet, delivered another blow, nearly finishing him off.
“They’re broadcasting live.”
Julian Grant: “……” This is like laying a bed in a public restroom—death is near.
The channel fell into a long silence.
At this point, all the players began to realize the immense pressure public opinion could bring to this case.
When they were ordinary citizens, they wanted absolute right to know, enjoying the power to use public opinion to force the authorities to be transparent.
Of course, that’s not wrong. But now, standing in law enforcement’s shoes, they realized things weren’t as simple as they thought.
What’s known to the public isn’t always the truth, and what people infer from limited information isn’t necessarily reality. Yet people love to extrapolate from scant clues, believe their own conclusions, and ultimately use conspiracy theories to deny official authority, pushing things toward chaos.
The players could already foresee the public’s reaction once the media released the interview. Now, they faced a dilemma—no matter what they did, the authorities’ credibility would be questioned.
“If we go out and clarify now, neither the media nor the public will believe us, right?” one player whispered. “The victim was adamant on camera that Nancy Dawson is the killer. If we try to explain, won’t people think the police are shirking responsibility or covering up?”
“Don’t overthink it—it’s inevitable.”
“But Tiffany Dawson is his sister!”
“Doesn’t that make it even more dramatic?”
Someone complained angrily, “Why did that lady downstairs talk nonsense? She really overdid the embellishment. I told her not to reveal case details, but she wouldn’t listen. Doesn’t she realize that one careless statement could cost Nancy Dawson her life?”
How many people are willing to take responsibility for their casual words? Even knowing their testimony could affect many online.
At that moment, Wallace Franklin’s phone vibrated, and several people in the room checked their phones.
A popular social media app pushed today’s news, the shocking headline blaring: “Nancy Dawson kills two more! When will the police…”
“This… isn’t this just making trouble? Did they even verify with the police before posting this? Are they crazy?”
Julian Grant glanced at Wallace Franklin, trying to read his next move from his dark expression. He said meaningfully, “If Nancy Dawson sees this news, what will she think? That the police are incompetent, unable to investigate the scene properly, or that the police are selling her out for convenience, pushing her to extremes? Honestly, we’re a bit on the back foot now.”
After weighing his options, Wallace Franklin made up his mind. He wiped his face hard, shaking off his dejection, and once again showed the strong leadership needed to steady the situation.
“Those assigned tasks, go carry them out. Remember, grassroots investigation must be thorough, careful, and patient! Work together and find Nancy Dawson as soon as possible. Also, since the media may soon release Nancy Dawson’s photo and the player is currently in a crowded area, this actually helps our search. Each team should actively seek clues from the public and ask for cooperation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wallace Franklin said, “Also, who manages our official media account? Before this blows up, immediately issue a public statement in response to the media.”
“What should we say?”
Wallace Franklin said firmly, “Tell the truth. Don’t reveal too many case details, but clarify Nancy Dawson’s relationship to the two murders. We have relatively clear evidence that Nancy Dawson is not the killer. Ask everyone not to speculate or spread false information, and to wait patiently for further official updates. That’s it.”
“Huh?” The player managing the account hesitated. “Right now, the media narrative is completely against us. If we clarify now, aren’t we just putting ourselves in the line of fire? The public might not believe us and could even react negatively. I don’t think this is good PR…”
“What’s the alternative? Shift all the pressure and responsibility onto Nancy Dawson? Let him bear a false charge and public condemnation? Wait until things die down, then issue a belated explanation? Or just go with the flow, arrest Nancy Dawson, and put on a show of interrogation? Nancy Dawson’s situation—he can’t wait!” Wallace Franklin raised his voice, clearly anxious but struggling for words, “That would be easy… but comrades, that’s not what we should do!”
Few people care what happens to Nancy Dawson, or rather, no one cares what Nancy Dawson is thinking right now.
He’s covered in stigma, his future ruined, utterly alone. Even if misunderstood by the public, at best he’ll get a prejudiced “serves you right.” From a utilitarian perspective, his sacrifice might at least contribute a bit to social stability, giving his bleak life a shred of value.
But Wallace Franklin is a police officer. His profession, his responsibility, his pursuit—none allow him to think purely in terms of benefit. This isn’t a job for laziness or shortcuts. To him, truth and justice matter far more than temporary peace and comfort.
Julian Grant smiled, walked over, and gave Wallace Franklin a firm pat on the shoulder. “Let me handle the media. I’ll make the statement.”
This was exactly the kind of thing Wallace Franklin was least good at, and Julian Grant’s consistent performance reassured him. He covered Julian Grant’s hand and nodded, “Thank you.”
Julian Grant: “Let’s all get to work. Time is tight.”
·
The Vault stood in the lobby, looking up at the LCD TV on the wall, which was broadcasting today’s news.
The shaky camera focused on the entrance of a residential building, yellow police tape forming a large circle. Several officers stood guard at the security door, preventing the media from filming inside. Reporters held up microphones, vying to confirm case details, while the police carefully raised their hands to block them, maintaining silence.
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