novelnext Chapter 93 The Mayor Sues the Municipal Government
Chapter 93 The Mayor Sues the Municipal Government
Chapter 93 The Mayor Sues the Municipal Government
A red-brick low-rent apartment building next to Fourth Avenue in the Brooklyn borough of Pittsburgh.
The corridors here are perpetually filled with a musty smell.
The paint on the walls on both sides of the corridor has peeled off, revealing the dark gray cement underneath.
Smith Gellert stood in his living room, clutching his old smartphone with its cracked screen.
The call has ended.
All that could be heard through the receiver was a busy tone.
But he remained in the position of answering the phone, his whole body stiff as a wax figure.
His mind went blank, his ears were ringing, and the young, powerful, and unquestionable voice from the phone call was still echoing in his ears.
"I am Leo Wallace."
"We are going to sue Pittsburgh City Hall."
Smith slowly and mechanically removed the phone from his ear.
He stared at the blacked-out screen as if a monster might leap out at any moment.
"Whose call was that?"
A tired and slightly irritated female voice broke the silence of the living room.
Smith suddenly came to his senses.
He turned his head and looked at the old, collapsed fabric sofa in the living room.
His wife, Mary, was lying there halfway down.
Mary lost her job as a supermarket cashier the day she broke her leg.
Her right leg was in a thick cast and rested on a worn-out footstool.
The coffee table was piled high with white envelopes—payment reminders from the hospital and overdue credit card notices.
The television was on, playing a noisy midday talk show, the volume turned up high, seemingly to mask the oppressive silence in the house.
"Smith, I'm asking you a question." Mary grabbed the remote, turned down the volume, and looked at her husband warily. "Is this a debt collection agency? Have they changed their number again? Tell them we won't have money until next week; this week's welfare payment hasn't arrived yet."
Smith swallowed hard.
His throat was incredibly dry.
"No—Mary."
Smith walked over to the sofa and plopped down in the rocking chair.
"It's not a debt collection company."
"Who is that?"
"It's the mayor's office," Smith's voice was somewhat unsteady. "It's the new mayor, Leo Wallace himself."
Mary frowned, her eyes filled with suspicion.
"The mayor? That young mayor who's always arguing with people on TV? Why is he calling you?"
Mary propped herself up, her voice becoming tense.
"Did you get into some trouble? Or did we fill out some forms incorrectly when applying for welfare? Are they trying to arrest you?"
For those living at the bottom of society, attention from the government usually doesn't mean anything good.
When the government contacts you, it's either to impose a fine, to arrest you, or to inform you that your benefits have been canceled.
"No, I didn't do anything."
Smith shook his head, rubbing his knees with both hands, his palms sweaty.
"He said—he said he found my complaint record."
"He said the pit had been there for several months, and it was the result of our repeated complaints to the city hall, which went unanswered."
He said it was a municipal oversight and a serious dereliction of duty.
Smith looked up at his wife's leg, which was in a cast.
He said, "Justice must be served."
"He wants to hire the best personal injury lawyer in Pittsburgh for us, and sue the city of Pittsburgh for a huge sum of money."
Mary was stunned.
She stared at her husband with her mouth agape, as if he were a madman.
Or perhaps the husband encountered a madman.
"Sue the city government?" Mary's voice shrilled. "He's the mayor! He's the head of government! He's going to sue himself for us?"
This was completely beyond her comprehension.
This is like your landlord suddenly coming to you and saying, "I'm going to sue myself for you so you don't have to pay rent and I'll even have to pay you back."
This is a scam.
It's definitely a scam.
"Smith, have you lost your mind?" Mary pointed at the phone. "This is definitely one of those new telecom scams! They'll say they'll help you with a lawsuit, then ask you to pay a processing fee or a deposit! Don't believe them! We're out of money for scammers!"
"But—" Smith hesitated, "that voice really sounds like him on TV. And he said he doesn't want any money, and all the expenses will be covered by the mayor's office."
"There's no such thing as a free lunch!" Mary yelled. "Block that number! We just want a peaceful life; we don't want to get involved in some big shot's game!"
Smith looked down at the pile of bills on the coffee table.
The top one is from the hospital, showing $84,000.
For them, this money is a mountain.
"What if it's true?" Smith murmured to himself. "Mary, what if it's true?"
Just then.
"Thump, thump, thump."
A clear and forceful knocking sounded on the door.
The air in the living room froze instantly.
Smith and Mary exchanged a glance, and they both saw fear in each other's eyes.
Are they scammers at the door? Or the police?
"Who?" Smith stood up, his voice trembling.
Is Mr. Gellert home?
A young, steady male voice came from outside the door.
"This is Ethan Hawke, Chief of Staff of the Mayor's Office. I think you just spoke with our mayor on the phone."
Smith stood frozen in place.
It's really coming.
So fast.
Mary gripped the sofa cushion, her face pale.
Smith took a deep breath, walked over, and opened the door.
There were two people standing outside the door.
Ahead of me was a young white man wearing glasses and an expensive-looking trench coat, carrying a briefcase.
His demeanor clashed with the dilapidated apartment building; his air of elitism made Smith instinctively want to back away.
Following behind was an older man carrying a larger leather bag, with a serious expression and a bar association badge pinned to his chest.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gellert."
Ethan Hawke smiled and extended his hand.
"This is my identification, and this is a special authorization order signed by the mayor."
Ethan pointed to the name tag hanging around his neck, then took out a document with an official seal from his bag and showed it to Smith.
Smith couldn't make out the words at all, but he recognized the golden Pittsburgh city emblem.
That's true.
"Can we go inside and talk?" Ethan asked politely.
Smith awkwardly stepped aside to make way.
Ethan and the lawyer entered the narrow, cramped living room.
They didn't mind the worn-out sofa and sat down immediately. The lawyer placed his briefcase on his lap and quickly took out a stack of documents.
Ethan looked at Mary, who was lying on the sofa, and his gaze fell on her leg, which was in a cast.
"Mrs. Gellert, the mayor is deeply sorry for what happened to you."
Ethan's voice was sincere, without any bureaucratic arrogance.
"This shouldn't have happened. That hole should have been filled long ago, but some people chose to ignore your safety in order to save money or for political struggles."
"You...are you really sent by the mayor?" Mary still couldn't believe it.
"Absolutely true."
Ethan took a photograph out of his briefcase.
That was the complaint record Smith had filled out, with a photo of the deep pit pinned next to it.
"This is the evidence your husband submitted." Ethan waved the paper. "This is the most crucial legal evidence. It proves that the city hall was aware of the accident before it occurred. Under Pennsylvania law, the city hall is required to compensate you."
The lawyer next to him started talking, his voice quite professional.
"Mr. Gellert, Mrs. Gellert. I am Robert King, specializing in injury damage litigation."
"Based on your situation, we can not only demand that the city hall reimburse all medical expenses, but also claim lost wages, compensation for emotional distress, and punitive damages."
"Preliminary estimates suggest the claim could reach $150,000."
$150,000.
Smith's breathing became rapid.
Mary gripped the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white.
This money is enough for them to pay off all their debts, move out of this godforsaken place, and even buy a used car for their home.
"But—" Smith still had a sliver of reason left, "Why would the mayor do this? If the city hall loses money, isn't that him losing money too? What good does it do him?"
Ethan looked at Smith.
He knew he had to give this honest man a reasonable explanation, otherwise he wouldn't dare sign.
"Mr. Gellert, the mayor doesn't want to pay compensation," Ethan explained. "The mayor wants to repair the road."
"But those people in the city council, those councilors sitting in their offices, they withheld the money for road repairs. They wouldn't approve the budget and wouldn't let us fill in that pothole."
"The mayor is very angry."
Ethan pointed towards the ceiling.
"The mayor believes that since the city council is unwilling to pay for road repairs, they must pay for the consequences of not repairing the roads."
"He wants to use this lawsuit to give those inactive congressmen a good slap in the face."
"He wanted to tell them: if they don't pay for the road repairs, they'll have to pay even more in compensation."
The logic is complete.
Smith understood.
This isn't a windfall; it's a battle of the gods.
The mayor wanted to use them as pawns to attack the city council.
Normally, Smith would never dare to get involved in such a power struggle.
But now—
He glanced at the bill on the table.
He glanced at his wife's broken leg.
He glanced again at the draft document in the lawyer's hand, which read, "Claim Amount: $150,000".
This is a winning lottery ticket.
Although holding it might be too hot to handle, giving it up would only allow life to continue rotting at the bottom.
"What do we need to do?" Smith's voice was a little hoarse.
"signature."
The lawyer handed over the documents and a gold pen.
"Simply sign your name here, authorizing us to represent you in your lawsuit. Leave the rest to us."
"You don't need to pay a single penny in legal fees. All expenses have been covered by the mayor's office through a special legal aid fund."
"Furthermore, we will apply for expedited arbitration, and you may receive your first compensation payment next month."
Smith took the pen.
The pen barrel is heavy, and the metallic texture feels cool.
He looked at Mary.
Mary bit her lip, her eyes flashing with a mixture of greed and fear.
Finally, she nodded.
Smith took a deep breath.
He wrote his name, Smith Gellert, in a crooked hand in the signature column.
The moment he made the last stroke, he felt his heart skip a beat.
Ethan looked at the signature and a smile crept onto his lips.
He quickly gathered the documents and put them back in his briefcase.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Gellert."
Ethan stood up and straightened his trench coat.
"You made the right decision. It's not just for yourself, but for all the citizens of Pittsburgh who are walking on dangerous roads."
"Justice may be delayed, but with the mayor's help, it will never be absent."
Ethan and his lawyer left.
The apartment door closed again.
Smith and Mary sat on the sofa, looking at the empty living room, as if everything that had just happened was an illusion.
But there was a business card left by a lawyer on the table, and it was real.
What Smith didn't know was that he had just signed more than just a civil lawsuit.
That was the first live bullet that Leo Wallace fired at Thomas Moretti.
That was the first domino to fall in the chain of events that toppled the entire old bureaucratic system in Pittsburgh.
From this moment on, this piece of paper will no longer belong to this dilapidated apartment.
It will fly to the courts, to the media, to the city council's meeting table, and eventually become a legal storm that sweeps the entire city.
In the city hall office.
Leo stood by the window, looking at the text message Ethan had sent: "Signed."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in his mind.
"very good."
"The first victim is in place."
"Now, let the storm rage on!"
Downtown Pittsburgh, Grant Avenue.
This is the city's lifeline of power; on ordinary days, it is the most orderly place in Pittsburgh.
But today, this main road is in chaos.
More than a dozen news vans occupied the driveway, their satellite antennas erected high, piercing the narrow sky sandwiched between skyscrapers.
Cameras and microphones of all kinds formed an impenetrable fortress in the huge shadow cast by the city hall building.
The flashes went off wildly, and all the cameras were focused on the ground.
There's a pit there.
Its edges are jagged, and it is filled with black sewage, like an ugly scar on this so-called "face of the city".
Three people were standing next to the pit.
In the middle is Leo Wallace, the mayor of Pittsburgh. He is wearing a dark wool coat with a gold city emblem pinned to the collar, and his expression is serious, even somewhat sorrowful.
To his left is Smith Gellert.
The honest-looking cleaner, wearing his faded jacket, nervously clasped his hands together, his gaze unfocused, clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight.
To Leo's right was a wheelchair.
Mary Gellert is sitting in a wheelchair.
Her right leg was in a thick cast, stretched straight out.
Her face was pale, a result of long-term illness, but at this moment, there was a strange excitement in her eyes.
"Dear friends from the media and citizens."
Leo spoke. His voice was steady and clear, carried through the row of microphones in front of him, echoing throughout the entire block and reaching thousands of households watching on television.
"Please take a look at this pit."
Leo stretched out his hand and pointed to the inconspicuous trap at his feet.
"It's been here for three months. Two months ago, Mr. Gellert submitted a repair request to the street maintenance department."
A month ago, our Public Works Department reaffirmed its danger.
"But to this day, until Mrs. Gellert's leg bone broke here, until this family fell into the abyss of debt, this pit remains here."
Leo paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over every reporter present.
"As the mayor of Pittsburgh, I stand here looking at these scars, at these dilapidated streets, and I feel a deep sense of shame."
A commotion broke out in the group of reporters.
But Leo didn't stop.
"I feel ashamed because I have the title of mayor and the power of administration, but I cannot fill this small hole."
"I feel ashamed because our bureaucracy is passing the buck, our legislature is playing power games, and our citizens are paying the price for our games."
Leo's voice rose a few decibels, filled with anger.
"I want to build roads. I have the blueprints for the Pittsburgh Reconstruction Project on my desk. I have workers, I have materials, and I have the will."
"But I have no money."
"To be precise, I have money, but I can't spend it."
Leo looked at the camera, his eyes sharpening.
"The city councilor's finance committee member, under the pretext of auditing, froze all maintenance budgets. Speaker Moretti told me that I must follow procedures, be rigorous, and take it slowly."
"Okay, let's proceed with the procedure."
"But Mrs. Gellert's legs can't wait for the process. This hole won't automatically fill in just because I'm running the process. The laws of gravity won't stop working just because the city councilor is on leave."
"Since the administrative path is blocked, and since I cannot fulfill my duties as mayor by building roads."
Leo took a deep breath and made the announcement that shocked everyone.
"Then I can only fulfill my obligations to the citizens in another way."
"I will support the victims in protecting their rights."
"I will stand on the plaintiff's side."
"I, Leo Wallace, Mayor of Pittsburgh, will fully support Mr. and Mrs. Smith Gellert in suing the Pittsburgh city council president and the Pittsburgh city council secretary for the damages he deserves!"
The entire audience erupted in uproar.
The reporters exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if they had misheard. Was the mayor supporting citizens' lawsuits against municipal officials?
This means he is helping outsiders empty his own government's coffers.
"Wallace Buddha!" a Pittsburgh Chronicle reporter shouted. "Do you know what you're talking about?"
The compensation money from municipal officials is also taxpayers' money! You're wasting public funds!
"Profit-making?"
Leo gave a cold laugh.
He took a document out of the inside pocket of his coat.
The Pennsylvania Political Division Tort Claims Act.
He unfolded the document and showed it to all the cameras.
"This isn't about making money; it's about the law."
Leo's voice became as solemn as a judge's pronouncement.
"Local governments enjoy sovereign immunity under certain specific circumstances. That is to say, under normal circumstances, you cannot sue a government simply because the road is inconvenient to travel on."
"but!"
Leo's fingers tapped heavily on the terms of the document.
"The law also provides for exceptions."
"According to Section 8542 of this state law, if the government agency had actual notification," meaning that the government clearly knew of the existence of the crisis and had sufficient time to take action, it failed to act.
"Then, the immunity is void."
"Zheng Ren must bear full liability for infringement and compensation."
Leo put away the file, his eyes sharp.
"Just a few days ago, the city council, led by Speaker Thomas Moretti, officially received four thousand copies of the Pittsburgh Public Infrastructure Critical Status Notification from the Public Works Department."
"He signed the document, stamped it, and sent a receipt."
"What does this mean?"
"This means that, legally speaking, the city councilor already knows about it."
"He was surprised to learn that the streetlights in Pittsburgh were broken, the manhole covers were missing, and the guardrails were broken."
"How come he knows everything?"
"But what did he do? He set up an investigation team, announced a suspension of funding, and launched an investigation."
"What is this? This is knowingly failing to report, this is deliberately ignoring the issue."
"so."
Leo said, "Now, these four thousand danger points are no longer ordinary municipal hazards."
"It is a legal black hole of responsibility."
"Speaker Moretti personally tore apart the protective umbrella of the government."
"Here, in this crater, Mrs. Gellert broke her leg. Because the city councilor refused to allocate funds for repairs, he has to pay for it."
"If he doesn't approve a repair budget of a few hundred dollars, why does he have to approve tens of thousands of dollars in compensation?"
"This is the law! This is justice!"
Leo turned the camera to extend an invitation to all the citizens of Pittsburgh.
"Citizen, if in the past you have sprained your ankle because of potholes, damaged your car because of a falling tree, or been robbed because of a broken streetlight, please tell me."
"Please don't just accept your bad luck."
"Please check my driving record to see if the location where you were injured had been reported to the city hall beforehand."
"If so, then you have the right to claim compensation."
"The mayor's office has established the Danxiang Legal Aid Fund, and we will provide free legal services to every eligible victim."
"Since the mayor is unwilling to spend money to repair the road, then I'll make him spend money to compensate for it."
"Until he's bankrupted, bankrupted, bankrupted, until he's finally willing to pick up a pen and sign off on that damned budget!"
The scene erupted in cheers.
Leo wasn't just stating a legal fact; he was wielding weapons against lawyers and victims throughout the city.
He's telling everyone: There's a free lunch here, the government's coffers are open, come and get it!
"crazy."
"That's absolutely insane."
Deep in Leo's mind, Roosevelt's voice carried a hint of admiration.
"Leo, you're like a madman standing at the entrance of a gunpowder depot with a torch."
"You are not only attacking your political enemies, you are attacking the unspoken rules of the entire administrative system."
"You've turned the law into a weapon, into a drug."
"You're telling those greedy lawyers: Come on, there's a huge piece of meat here, the government is definitely going to pay compensation!"
"Do you know what this incident will cause?"
"This incident triggered a tsunami of lawsuits."
"This has put Pittsburgh's finances on the verge of collapse overnight."
"This is a suicide attack."
"but----"
Roosevelt laughed.
"Well done."
"The only way to deal with an old bureaucrat like Moretti, who cowers in his shell, is to set the house on fire and force him to come out of hiding."
"Since he wants to play the game of procrastination, then let's show him what a breakdown looks like."
Less than ten minutes after the press conference ended.
In several office buildings in Pittsburgh's central gate, the atmosphere suddenly became unusually restless.
This place is home to the city's most astute, greediest, and most perceptive group of people—personal injury lawyers.
He is often referred to as an "ambulance chaser".
He makes a living by extracting high commissions from compensation payments for car accidents, workplace injuries, and medical malpractice.
Normally, suing the government is the case they least want to take.
Because of the obstacle of "sovereign immunity," such lawsuits are difficult to win, lengthy, and have low odds, often resulting in wasted effort and little reward.
But today, things have changed.
In a law firm, senior partner Jack Stevens was staring at the television screen, oblivious to the coffee he had spilled all over the floor.
He heard the word: "actual notification".
He also heard the crucial information: "Open the record."
As a seasoned rogue who had served in the legal profession for thirty years, he instantly understood what this meant.
This means the burden of proof is reversed.
This means that Zheng Ren's defensive shield was not only broken, but that Zheng Ren himself had deliberately thrown it away.
If it can be proven that the location of the injury is publicly recorded, the case is guaranteed to be won.
This is going to the bank to withdraw money.
"quick!"
Stevens jumped up and yelled at the office area outside.
"Everyone! Stop what you're doing!"
"Go check the website of the Buddhist Engineering Department! Go check the detailed list of Buddhist infrastructure in crisis notices issued by the City Hall!"
"All those injuries I was denied in the past two years due to 'insufficient evidence' or 'political exemption'..."
"Get me all the contact numbers for vehicle damage inquiries!"
"Call those customers!"
"Tell him, good news! The mayor is going to give him money!"
"We need to snatch all these cases before any other law firms!"
The same scene is playing out in law firms of all sizes in Pittsburgh.
The telephone line started to get hot.
The fax machine started to register.
And inside the City Council Building.
Thomas Moretti was sitting in his office, enjoying his afternoon tea.
He felt very good.
The four thousand applications have been sealed in the Genomics Room, and the so-called "verification team" has begun working at a snail's pace.
Leo Wallace's offensive was thwarted; the young mayor must be furious and impotent in his office right now.
Just then, the office door was suddenly pushed open.
His secretary rushed in, holding a tablet computer, his face ashen.
"Speaker! This is a disaster!"
The secretary-general's voice was sharp and grating.
"What's wrong? Why are you so flustered?" Moretti frowned and put down his teacup. "That kid's pulling this stunt again?"
Sending a paper mule?
"That's a million times worse than Luo's!"
The Secretary General tossed the tablet computer onto the table in front of Moretti.
The screen is playing a replay of Leo's press conference in front of that deep pit.
"If he doesn't approve the repair budget, then why should he approve the compensation?"
Leo's voice echoed in the office.
Moretti watched the video, looked at the Tort Claims Act in Leo's hand, and looked at the cleaner, Smith.
His pupils slowly dilated.
"What is he doing?" Moretti muttered to himself. "Is he inciting the citizens to sue me?"
"It's not just instigation."
The secretary-general's voice was trembling.
"The legal department just called. In just half an hour, he has already received twelve lawyer's letters."
"All of them are personal injury claims."
The clause states, "All reasons are based on actual notice."
"This is just the beginning, Speaker."
The Secretary-General pointed out the window.
"All the lawyers in the city have gone mad. He's frantically searching the streets for that pothole, for all the people who've fallen in."
"The head of the Ministry of Justice said that at this rate, I may face hundreds of lawsuits by tomorrow morning."
"Preliminary estimate of the claim amount —"
The secretary-general swallowed hard.
"It could be more than fifty million US dollars."
Fifty million US dollars.
The budget for the risk management plan that Lorio wanted was more than double.
Moreover, the money spent on road repairs becomes an asset, while the compensation money is a pure loss.
"That madman—"
Moretti muttered to himself.
"How dare he? He's the mayor! How dare he throw a Molotov cocktail at his own house just to force me to comply?"
"This is a suicidal attack. He's willing to drag the entire municipal finances down just to beat me."
The Secretary-General, watching Moretti still muttering to himself, was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan: "Speaker! Forget about whether he's crazy or not! What do we do now? If we don't take immediate action, court summons will be plastered all over this building tomorrow! If the judge finds that I deliberately neglected my duties, it's not just a matter of paying compensation, it's dereliction of duty!"
"What's the panic?"
Moretti raised his head, his eyes instantly turning sharp.
"Pay back? Fine, then pay back. It's not my money, nor yours; it's taxpayers' money."
He patted the dust off his hands.
"You need to understand the current situation. Whether it's the $50 million in compensation or the road repair budget that's currently unquantifiable, it's not a small amount of money."
"Such a large sum of money needs to go through the budget, and my approval alone is not enough. It requires the endorsement of the entire city council, and the approval of all nine heads."
"Leo wants to force me? Fine, then I'll let everyone experience what it's like to be forced."
Moretti straightened a collar.
"Notify all members of parliament!"
"An emergency closed-door meeting will be held in half an hour!"
"Tell him that if he doesn't come, he can be ready to explain to the voters tomorrow why his taxes have been turned into lawyer fees."
Moretti strode toward the council chamber, his steps still steady.
He didn't lose; he just had to escalate the game.
Since Leo wants to go big, he'll make the table even bigger.
Meanwhile, in the mayor's office...
Leo stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the lights suddenly illuminate the city council building across the street, and the figures running frantically in front of the windows.
He knew, and he detonated it.
But he didn't feel relieved; instead, he clenched his fists.
"Ethan," Leo said without turning his head, "get your pens ready."
"I think my budget will be passed soon. But before that, there will probably be one last tough battle to fight."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in his mind, tinged with a hint of mockery.
"See, child."
"That's the power of the law."
"It can be both a chain of power and a hammer to break it."
"The key is who the man with the hammer in his chest is, and whether he dares to smash the hammer into his own foot."