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Chapter 127 Moral Trial
Chapter 127 Moral Trial (Bonus Chapter for 19000 Monthly Tickets)
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Convention Center.
The huge studio was decorated in the Democratic Party’s signature dark blue color scheme.
At the very center of the stage, a huge LED screen was displaying the campaign slogan "Reclaim Our Time".
The spotlights illuminated the stage as if it were daytime, and even the dust particles dancing in the beams were clearly visible.
The audience was filled with a thousand people, mostly college students from Philadelphia and the surrounding suburbs, environmentalists, middle-class white-collar workers, and liberal voters who were angry about the status quo in Washington.
This was a televised campaign rally broadcast statewide.
The camera's red indicator light came on, and the director's hand gesture fell.
John Murphy strode onto the stage.
He changed into a well-tailored dark gray suit.
In Philadelphia, he needed to project the dignity and authority expected of a senator.
There was thunderous applause.
Murphy walked to the front of the stage, slowly took out a photograph from the inside pocket of his suit, and showed it to all the cameras and the audience.
The photo shows a young, smug face: Chad Evans.
"This week, many people asked me why I would give up a secure seat in the House of Representatives at this age to fight this tough battle."
Murphy's voice carried a suppressed anger.
"I'd like to show this photo to everyone."
"This young man's name is Chad Evans. Three years ago, he worked in the same office building on Capitol Hill as me. He was a senior legislative assistant to Senator Russell Warren, responsible for drafting bills on energy and the environment."
"At that time, his annual salary was $62,000."
Murphy paused for a moment, letting the number circulate among the crowd.
"That's the salary taxpayers pay him to help the senator protect our land, protect our water resources, and protect the future of Pennsylvania."
"But he resigned in May two years ago."
Murphy suddenly waved his hand, and the image on the LED screen instantly changed.
A new chart appeared before everyone. On the left was $62,000, and on the right was an astonishing figure: $600,000, plus stock options.
The background shows the luxurious headquarters building of Appalachian Energy Group.
"Just two weeks later, he was sitting in the office of the vice president of Appalachian Energy Group, in that five-thousand-dollar Italian leather swivel chair."
His salary increased tenfold.
99
A gasp of surprise rippled through the audience.
For most middle-class people burdened with mortgages and student loans, this figure is a provocation in itself.
"On what grounds?"
Murphy questioned into the microphone.
"Is it because he suddenly became a business genius? Is it because he invented some world-changing technology?"
"No."
"It's because he has a key, a key to Senator Warren's office."
Murphy stepped down from the podium to connect with the audience.
His expression turned pained and distressed.
"Just three months after Evans took office, the Senate voted on the Groundwater Conservation Act. This act could have prevented energy companies from injecting undisclosed toxic chemicals into our groundwater aquifers."
"Russell Warren, the senator who claims to love Pennsylvania, cast the decisive dissenting vote."
"The bill failed."
"Appalachian Energy thus saved hundreds of millions of dollars in compliance costs."
"And what will be the price?"
Murphy took a bottle of murky water from under the podium.
That was a sample taken by the campaign team from a farmer's well near a shale gas extraction area in western Pennsylvania.
He held the bottle of water high in the spotlight, and under the light, the water appeared an unsettling pale yellow, with what seemed to be some unidentified sediment suspended in it.
"The price is here."
"This is the water our children drink, and this is the water our farmers use to irrigate their crops."
"Senator Warren and his former aides were drinking and chatting in a steakhouse in Washington, and counting their bonuses in an air-conditioned office."
"And what they left us was this bottle of poison."
"What are they doing? They're trading your children's health for that young man's million-dollar salary! They're sacrificing Pennsylvania's future to fill their own pockets!"
Murphy's voice echoed through the studio, carrying a powerful moral judgment.
"This is called a revolving door."
"Today you represent the people to regulate enterprises; tomorrow you represent the enterprises to buy off the people's representatives."
"This is legal corruption! This is the most shameless desecration of democracy!"
"Senator Warren tells you he's protecting jobs. No, friends, he's only protecting one person's job—Chad Evans' high-paying job!"
"We need to throw this filthy deal, along with those leather swivel chairs, into the trash heap!"
"We want to return Washington to the people!"
"Reclaim our era!"
The audience erupted in cheers.
The young students stood up and waved their fists.
Environmentalists held up signs.
Those middle-class people who were disappointed with the system found an outlet for their frustrations at this moment.
Murphy successfully simplified a complex issue of profit transfer into a story of "victim and predator".
This narrative is deadly to liberal voters in the city.
Pittsburgh, campaign headquarters.
The television in the office was turned up very loud.
-
Karen couldn't help but whistle when Murphy held up the bottle of murky water.
"pretty."
Karen stared at the screen, her eyes full of admiration.
"Old John has finally figured it out. This angle is perfect: environmental protection, corruption, and class stratification—three birds with one stone. After this night, his approval rating in the Philadelphia suburbs will rise by at least five points."
Sarah is swiping an X.
"The reaction is already coming in."
She excitedly turned the tablet around to show everyone.
"Three out of the top ten trending topics are about this speech. The hashtag #PoisonWaterWarren# has exploded."
"Take a look at this."
Ethan pointed to an email pop-up on the computer screen.
"The Washington Post's online editorial has just gone live, titled 'Unveiling the Dark Side of Pennsylvania Politics: Why We Need to Focus on Chad Evans.'"
"They praised Senator Murphy for demonstrating rare political courage in challenging this systemic corruption."
"There's also a news channel that's connecting with a legal expert to discuss a conflict of interest between a senator and his former employee."
"We won this game."
Sarah picked up a bottle of beer from the table. Although it was at room temperature, she excitedly opened the tab.
"Warren's non-stick pan image has finally been shattered. Now the whole of America is talking about his nouveau riche assistant, and he can't explain himself even if he has a hundred mouths."
A sense of elation filled the office.
During this period, they had been overwhelmed by Warren's impeccable perfection.
Now, they have finally torn a hole, letting everyone see the lice beneath the robe of that sanctimonious old politician.
"Well done, Leo." Frank raised a disposable paper cup in his hand to Leo, who was sitting behind his desk. "That was ruthless. He'll be left with nothing but teeth."
Leo sat there, without a drink in his hand.
He looked at the spirited Murphy on the television screen and at the enthusiastic young faces in the audience.
He wore a faint smile, the smile of a victor.
But deep in his mind, the voice that had always been with him seemed somewhat silent at this moment.
"Mr. President?"
Leo asked himself.
"Don't you think this is good news? We succeeded; we completely turned the tide of public opinion."
"Warren now faces not only attacks from Democrats, but also questioning from swing voters; his moral foundation has been shaken."
Roosevelt's voice finally rang out.
"Yes, Leo. It was a very successful tactical strike."
"You have won a brilliant victory in the media war and in the battle for urban voters."
"but----"
Roosevelt's voice carried a hint of worry.
Did you notice the backdrop during Murphy's speech?
Leo paused for a moment, then asked, "Background? What's wrong?"
"That's Philadelphia," Roosevelt said. "That's a university, a conference center."
"Those sitting in the audience are students, professors, and urban elites who drink Evian water and care about global warming."
"Of course they would be angry about the toxic water and corruption, because it aligns with their values and violates their moral fastidiousness."
"But, Leo."
"Pennsylvania is not just Philadelphia."
"And that vast middle ground, those so-called wastelands."
"The people there, the workers who make a living from shale gas wells, the truck drivers who get paid by Appalachian Energy."
"When they saw this news, when they saw Murphy holding up that bottle of water, denouncing the company that gave them their jobs as the maker of toxic water."
"What do you think they'll think?"
"They will be on our side," Leo answered firmly in his heart. "They will denounce Warren's corruption."
"Watch out, Leo."
"In Pennsylvania's coal-producing counties, in those small towns where there's nothing but the energy industry, this might be interpreted in a completely different way."
"In order to attack Warren, you chose a double-edged sword called environmental protection and anti-corruption."
"But this sword might cut those you originally wanted to win over."
"No, Mr. President."
Leo shook his head.
"You underestimate the weight the word 'injustice' carries in the hearts of people at the bottom of society."
"When a worker covered in coal dust sees a young assistant who can't even tell the difference between drill bit models earn more money than he could in ten lifetimes, simply because he carried a senator's bag."
"What he felt was not the relief of his industry being protected, but the fury of being exploited and fooled."
"Six thousand against six hundred thousand."
"This stark contrast in figures is enough to pierce any lie told in the name of the greater good of the industry."
"They will realize that Warren isn't protecting their jobs, but rather the interests of his small circle."
"This kind of betrayal and class hatred is enough to overwhelm everything."
Leo turned his head and looked at the team that was celebrating.
The atmosphere in the office had reached its peak, and everyone was immersed in the joy of victory.
They believe this is the inevitable trend.
They believe that justice has finally been on their side.
Looking at his excited companions, Leo's confidence soared to new heights.
He stood up and walked to the map.
On that map of Pennsylvania's electoral districts, the large red area in the middle no longer appeared to him as an impregnable fortress.
It was a barren grassland, just waiting for him to throw down the last match.
"Everyone."
Leo spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but it instantly pierced through the noise in the room, silencing everyone.
Everyone turned their heads and stared intently at Leo.
"Don't stop."
Leo's fingers slammed heavily on the map.
"Now that the fire is already burning, let's add fuel to the fire."
"Notify Murphy."
Leo issued new instructions.
"Tell him to adjust his strategy when he goes on his next speaking tour in the countryside."
"We must focus all our firepower on the word 'injustice'."
"As long as we stick to this point, Warren has no chance of turning the tide."
"Because in this world, no one can defend injustice."
"Not even God."
Another cheer erupted in the room.
Karen picked up the phone again and began giving new instructions to Murphy's campaign team.
Sarah began creating a new round of promotional posters, featuring that glaring salary comparison chart.
With unwavering confidence and fervent aspirations for the future, the team launched a final assault on that seemingly impregnable fortress.
Leo stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at his face reflected in the glass.
That young face was filled with confidence and fearlessness.
He firmly believes that this time, he has found the fulcrum that can move the earth.
He firmly believed that the angry people would stand by his side.
He firmly believed that the fortress of the old era was about to crumble beneath his feet.
Deep in his mind, Roosevelt remained silent, simply observing everything.
Even though his keen intuition had already sensed something was amiss, the human heart is the most unpredictable thing in the world.
Maybe Leo is right? Maybe that primal class anger really can overcome everything?
Or perhaps, this is just a maddening illusion before destruction?
In any case, the bullet had already left the barrel.
No one can stop it.