Chapter 648: The arson killing wife eight years ago

"Mr. McCall, these are all the information."
"thank you."
"good luck."
After coming out of the prison, McCall first went to the store to buy a razor and sorted out his image in a humble hotel.
Then he went to the street and walked around to see what he did.
The next day McCall bought a ticket to New York and embarked on his final journey to get revenge.
McCall is a descendant of British immigrants. According to racial comments, he is a truly white person. ’
His appearance looked deep and masculine, and while in the car, several little girls gave him hints and only shook his head with a smile.
This adds to his charm, but McCall doesn't care at all.
His only thought now is to take revenge. He will never forget the scene of his wife falling down on the street.
Those demons in white robes and pointed triangle caps burned her alive, and that scene was a nightmare that Michael could never forget.
So after those people found him, he put the photos and addresses of the people who participated that night in front of Michael, and he knew what he should do.
He has been waiting too long for this day.
...
...
On June 11, New York, isolationism was recognized by more and more people.
The First Movement Committee, whose main leaders gathered in Times Square in New York, loudly called for slogans such as "freedom, stay away from war, and independence of the United States."
Just as people shouted with slogans, several gunshots occurred in the square.
In the center of the rally, 4 speakers who stepped on wooden boxes died on the spot and 2 people died. Then the shooter threw away his pistol and sat quietly on the ground waiting for the police to arrive.
The police were not far away from him, but the chaotic fleeing crowd at the scene prevented the police from getting close.
It took more than ten minutes before they finally squeezed into the crowd, armed with guns pointing at the ‘dangerous’ murderer.
McCall was arrested on charges of two first-degree murders.
In court, Michael confessed his guilt. When the judge asked him why he did this, a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
"Master Judge, where does your wife come from? England, France, Germany, Netherlands, Ireland or Spain?" McCall's tone was full of sarcasm.
"Mr. McCall, is this question related to the question you are about to answer?" the judge asked in court.
"Yes...because my wife is from India, does anyone remember the arson killing wife on the street 8 years ago? My name is Michael Tanrumba."
When McCall finished speaking, there was a brief silence in the courtroom, and then a cry of exclamation suddenly sounded: "Mikeel Tanrumba, arson... God!"
Michael Tallumba was sentenced to 8 years in prison for manslaughter. The deceased was his wife. The reason was that he put gasoline in the car and inadvertently caused a fire.
His wife escaped from the car to the street, crawled tens of meters before being completely burnt to death, and there was a 6-month-old baby in her belly.
"Silence, silence..." The judge struck the mallet hard, but he couldn't stop the noise.
Because the incident involved white people and North America’s largest anti-war organization, which took place in the highly anticipated Times Square, the trial was public.
There were not only government officials who were concerned about the trial, members of parliament, members of anti-war organizations, but also the ace teams of major newspapers.
"Mr. Tanrumba, is there any connection between these two things?"
"Mr. Tanrumba, are you saying that the judgment was wrong?"
"Mr. Tan Rumba, is there any hidden feeling in it?"
"Mr. Tanrumba, are you avenging your wife and children?"
"Sir... are you saying that it was the white man who killed your wife?" As soon as the question came out, there was a breath of cold breath.
Such a straightforward question is simply provoking a new round of social contradictions. Which idiot is this? Does he want to provoke opposition in the entire society?
When everyone turned their eyes to the questioner and saw the "Los Angeles Times" work permit hanging on his chest, the corners of his mouth could not help twitching backwards.
The riots at the scene forced the judge to declare ‘adjournment,’ but the name of Michael Talumba appeared again in major newspapers.
The next day, "Times Weekly" rarely used a black and white photo as its cover.
On the cover is a black figure with a fierce flame, and the title is "Who is the murderer".
In the courtroom, in front of Michael, there was a somber man in front of him. The other party said in a threatening tone: "I think you know your situation very well. You killed someone, no one can save you, but your words and deeds are very good. May cause other troubles."
Seeing Tanrumba not speaking, the other party leaned down and whispered, "Even if you don't think about yourself, you should think more about your family, they are old."
boom.
The door was suddenly pushed open with a straight suit, a briefcase in his hand, and smiling Saliev Gandall Bar stood at the door.
"I am a senior consultant of Mahathir Law Firm, Saliyev. From now on, we will provide free legal services for Mr. Tanrumba~EbookFREE.me~ If you have any questions, please notify I."
Saleyev put the business card on the table and looked at each other with a smile.
"This is not something you can interfere with. You should figure out who you are against." The other party stood on the table.
"Who? President?" Saliyev smiled carelessly. The four assistants behind him also walked in, and the small room was full of people.
"Write down this gentleman's words, "Should we figure out who we are fighting against," is that what we said?" Saliyev asked his assistant.
"Yes." The assistant smiled funny and shrugged to record.
"Damn." Seeing his performance, the newcomer wanted to jump in anger, and grabbed Salyev's collar as soon as he reached out.
"Wow..." Allowing him to grab himself, Saliyev raised his hands and looked out of the door, a camera facing the house.
"Be clear about the shooting, especially the face. By the way, give him a close-up." Saliyev grinned sulkily.
I waited a long time to see the other party and didn't do it. I just looked blue and white for a while, and I couldn't help asking them very boringly: "Could you please hurry? My hands are about to be sour."
"You'll regret it." Loosened his collar fiercely, and pushed the door open to force the photography, and quickly stepped away.
"I'm so lucky...I thought I was going to the dentist today!" Saliyev patted the pleated collar and sat quietly across from Michael.
"Mr. Tanrumba, let us now think about how to make them pay the price." Saliyev smiled meaningfully.
Dealing with those boring business cases every day has left him excited for a long time. I hope this case will make him feel interesting.