RBCT Chapter 357 Closing Statements: Adams and Kennedy Clash
Chapter 357 Closing Statements: Adams and Kennedy Clash
Chapter 357 Closing Statements: Adams and Kennedy Clash
The court is currently engaged in tense cross-examination of witness testimonies, and the prosecution and defense lawyers are also engaged in a tense exchange.
Larry's attention was fixed on Ellis, who was writing something furiously, while Randall whispered to her from the other side.
This is the most crucial thing, and it's the right way that Yung Wing and Larry found together to open up Harvard Law School.
We need them to issue a "Legal Opinion"!
It is certain that no one can interfere in judicial proceedings. However, U.S. courts stipulate that non-litigating parties may submit professional opinions—that is, legal opinions—with the court's permission if the case involves significant public interest or legal principles.
Since the mid-19th century, U.S. federal and state courts have been able to refer to specialized legal documents when dealing with new legal issues such as scientific evidence and the boundaries of self-defense.
So, Yung Wing and Larry made an agreement! On Sunday night, Yung Wing first asked Larry to provide a legal opinion, but to avoid suspicion, Yung Wing did not interfere with the specific content of the opinion.
On Monday morning, Larry devised a plan to remind the other party to redefine "self-defense" in the context of "risk of self-inflicted harm".
In this way, the combination of the two can form a complete causal chain, making the other party believe that the deceased caused himself to hit the corner of the table due to his own imbalance, and "manslaughter" can be completely denied.
It now appears that Randall is working with Ellis to urgently draft this legal opinion.
But Larry hadn't expected the prosecutor to instruct the Chinese man to commit perjury. This diminished the effectiveness of the legal opinion.
Now that the new evidence is all on the table, the key is how the prosecutor and defense lawyers conclude the case—that's the most crucial point.
Larry turned his gaze back to Mr. Yung Wing.
"Prosecution and defense, prepare your closing arguments!" the judge announced loudly after both sides had finished their cross-examination.
The entire courtroom fell silent—everyone's eyes darted back and forth between the defendant's dock, the prosecution, and the defense attorney.
Not only them, but now even the jury's eyes are on them.
The air was terribly sticky —
Prosecutor Barrett rose from her seat, walked slowly to the front of the jury, casually adjusted her cuffs, and wore a confident smile.
"Gentlemen jurors! Today we are not judging a laundry worker; we are defending the basic principles of civilization."
Barrett then turned and pointed at Huang Meitang, his eyes sharp as knives. "You should look at this guy. He's thin, silent, and his eyes are darting around. He comes from a country that treats human life like dirt, a country where there are no juries, no due process, only the barbaric law of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—"
Barrett took a deep breath, his tone growing colder. "But this is Boston! This is Massachusetts! Here, white lives matter! And Tom, this hardworking dockworker, was deliberately pushed to his death by this Asian man, slamming his head against a chair, simply because he was drunk and uttered a few complaints!"
As he spoke, Barrett walked a few steps to the evidence table and pointed to the hardwood table with copper-wrapped corners.
"Look at this brass corner! It's not high, not sharp, and even somewhat blunt. How could someone possibly hit it by the temple unless they deliberately shoved a drunkard? So this wasn't an accident; it was a precise murder!"
As he spoke, Barrett pointed to Lai Shenglin standing there and said, "Even the murderer's own countryman couldn't stand it anymore; he wanted justice for the dead. Tom caused the defendant to hit the corner of the table while he was trying to take the dagger from the other man—although we didn't see it with our own eyes, gentlemen, that's the truth!"
He then returned to the center of the courtroom, his voice booming like a sermon.
"Some people say it was self-defense—absurd! Mr. Tom was already paralyzed and unarmed. A true gentleman would call the police, wait, and exercise restraint—not a laundryman using his Eastern logic of violence to take a white man's life!"
After saying this, Barrett looked at the jury again and said, "My request is simple: give the deceased a just end! Convict the defendant and hang him, so that he may comfort the innocent soul!"
Gentlemen, your ruling will tell us to whom this city, Boston, truly belongs.
After speaking, Barrett stared intently at the jury until the full thirty seconds had passed before slowly and steadily walking back to his seat.
The moment he sat down, Barrett seemed to hear the hammer of conviction fall.
Throughout Barrett's statement, Rong remained calmly watching him, her eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.
When the judge announced that the defense lawyers would make their final closing arguments, Mr. Yung Wing straightened his clothes, walked slowly to the center of the courtroom, faced the jury, and spoke in a calm and resonant voice without any prepared remarks.
"Fellow jurors, the prosecutor just asked who Boston belongs to. I would like to answer him: Boston belongs to the law, to the facts, and to everyone who has the right to defend themselves against violence—regardless of where they come from or what their skin color is!"
As he spoke, he walked over to the table, pointed to the brass corner, and said, "The prosecutor insists that Mr. Tom was deliberately shoved to death."
But please allow me to ask a question: since the witness who recanted his testimony today said that Huang Meitang was holding a short knife, which prompted the deceased to lunge at him to seize the knife, leading to a violent shove that resulted in death—
But there's a huge flaw here! If the defendant really intended to kill, why didn't he use a dagger? Why did he have to push so hard—and gamble on the chance of the knife hitting the corner of the table?
After Rong Hong finished speaking, there was a murmur among the jury and the audience.
"That's right! How can the facts be contradicted—during the initial trial, they said the Chinese man dragged the victim's head and rammed it—but when they recanted their testimony, they said they disarmed him—these are completely different things!"
One of the jurors was speaking in a low voice, but the sound was clearly audible to the others.
After the commotion subsided slightly, Yung Wing continued, "Because this isn't murder at all, it's evasion! Your Honor, I now need a final scenario simulation!"
After obtaining the judge's consent, he asked a tall bailiff to assist him, pretending to be the deceased drunk and standing in front of the table.
"Sir, please imitate Mr. Tom's final movement—throw your whole body forward, arms outstretched, roar, and shift your weight forward!"
The bailiff, playing the role of a "drunkard," charged forward as Yung Wing had instructed.
Rong Hong simply blocked with a light touch and dodged to the side. The other man was propelled forward by inertia, staggering a few steps before regaining his balance, but his head was already not far from the corner of the table.
"Gentlemen, did you all see that? It wasn't pushed over, it just missed! A six-foot-two-inch, nearly 200-pound drunkard, driven by alcohol and rage, lunged forward with all his might—"
Even if there's no one else in front of him, if the ground is slippery enough or he loses his balance, he will crash into any protrusion! This isn't Huang Meitang's fault; it's the inevitable result of physics!
Yung Wing's words once again elicited a low murmur from the audience.
Even Barrett's face darkened; he realized he had made a mistake. By bribing the Chinese man to change the wording, he had created a contradiction in the facts.
Moreover, Yung Wing's reenactment of the scene made this situation even more obvious.
At the same time, Yung Wing's gaze also fell on Barrett. He said sternly, "The prosecutor just said that a true gentleman will restrain his behavior. But I must say, Huang Meitang is not a gentleman. He is a laundry worker who washes 300 shirts a day, his hands cracked and bleeding; he is a porter who carries buckets of milk tea around delivering goods!"
He was an ordinary person who instinctively stepped in to block an elderly man's blows to the head while he was being pulled by the braid. He hadn't received a Cambridge education and didn't understand the art of restraint, but he knew that when a bottle was about to be smashed against his companion's head, he had to reach out!
As he spoke, Yung Wing looked at the jury again, his eyes like torches. "Tom shouted 'Kill the Chinaman' seven times that night. He grabbed the old man's braid, smashed a bottle, and lunged at the unarmed Wong Mei-tong. And what did Wong Mei-tong do? He blocked, deflected the force, and dodged—three times to avoid escalating the conflict."
But why are we judging him? Because his skin is yellow? Because he didn't curse "white devil"? Or because—we're afraid to admit that real violence comes from our own inner desire to believe?!
Some jurors shifted their bodies uncomfortably.
Yung Wing continued, "In 1826, Lord Kent said that if a person intrudes into another person’s space by force, the harm caused is the natural consequence of his actions."
Mr. Tom escalated the violent verbal and physical altercation three times. He smashed a bottle over the other person's head, and finally lunged at him recklessly—he was the perpetrator of the danger, not the victim.
Huang Meitang did not kill anyone; he was merely trying to stand upright in the darkness. I do not ask for your sympathy, but only request that you see the facts, respect the law, and uphold your right to self-defense.
Because one day, the one who needs to defend themselves might be you!
Finally, Yung Wing pointed out the window towards Chinatown and continued, "There are hundreds of Chinese people there who do laundry, make tea, and repair shoes every day—but they never beg, nor do they take advantage of the chaos to rob or steal!"
They don't fear poverty; they want to control their own destiny with their own hands. They bring you the cleanest clothes and the most delicious milk tea every day. They've traveled thousands of miles from the other side of the world just to share the opportunities of this new continent with you.
Imagine yourself in their shoes: all you want to do is work hard and send the money you earn here back home thousands of miles away.
I never even considered violating morality—but one day, a drunk white man walks in and says, "Your life is worthless"—and the court just nods in agreement.
Did he betray judicial fairness, or did justice betray him?
After finishing his closing statement, Yung Wing bowed slightly to the jury and judge, then slowly walked back to his seat.
The courtroom remained eerily quiet, and the jury once again focused their attention on Huang Meitang.
After a brief silence, Judge Howe broke his silence and turned to the jury, saying, "You only need to answer one question—based on whether the evidence exceeds a reasonable doubt, is the defendant guilty? Now! Court adjourned!"
In the parliamentary session on one side, there was also a 15-minute recess in the middle.
Adams stood by the window at the end of the corridor, tapping his fingers on the wooden window frame.
"Mr. Charles!" Kennedy's relaxed voice came from behind Adams. He handed him a glass of water and asked with concern, "—"
You don't look well? Have some water and rest for a bit.
Adams turned around, his face ashen, refusing to take the glass of water, and said sternly, "What exactly do you want?"
Kennedy laughed, casually tossing his water glass onto the windowsill. "You're mistaken. I'm not here to ask you to step down—that wouldn't do Boston any good, and it wouldn't do me any good either."
"—You have no evidence!" Adams suddenly said.
Kennedy chuckled and said, "Sickly Joe—is he one of your men? Did he secretly buy up 20 tickets for you? That's quite a move! If you really want to see the evidence—"
As he spoke, Kennedy patted his shirt pocket and pulled out a corner of a photograph. He smiled and said, "—I'm afraid the photo isn't very clear; it will only be visible after being enlarged in a newspaper—"
Adams was immediately speechless.
Previously, Kennedy's constant avoidance had made Adams lower his guard. He even thought that by entrusting Sheey with the matter, the other party wouldn't suspect him—
Little did they know, Kennedy had been watching his men all along, and had even taken photos as evidence—
At this thought, a terrifying idea suddenly surged from the depths of his mind. Adams' eyes widened abruptly, and his finger pointed at Kennedy in the air—
"My God! I finally understand! This so-called legal betting scheme was all orchestrated by you! You contacted others to issue this betting scheme! You, you've been planning this for a long time, harboring malicious intentions! You really are a cunning wolf!"
Adams' fingers trembled uncontrollably in the air, a mixture of anger and fear.
Kennedy smiled noncommittally, stretched out his left hand, and pulled out two rough, hard gambling tickets.
One yes, one no.
Kennedy waved two gambling tickets in front of his face and said casually, "The temporary bill will take effect before the meeting ends—don't say I didn't warn you. If your household still has a large number of gambling tickets in a little while, I wouldn't mind letting those tabloid reporters know about it."
As he spoke, right in front of Adams, Kennedy tore the two betting tickets to shreds and tossed them into the wind.
Adams' face was ashen as he watched Kennedy turn and walk away. Kennedy's back was straight, yet it suppressed a surge of panic within Adams.
This guy didn't try to extort money from me? He actually kindly reminded me to sell it quickly?
Why is this guy being so kind? What is he trying to do?
But—I don’t have time to think about that now!
At this moment, Kennedy suddenly turned around, smiling as he reminded him, "Of course, you can choose to burn them all—but you must have spent a lot of money buying these 20-plus tickets, right? Over a hundred thousand dollars? If I were you, I would sell as many as I could while no one else knew—you have to keep some money for yourself!"
"I don't understand what you're saying!" Adams said through gritted teeth.
Kennedy smiled and nodded. "Time is running out—you need to hurry."
The other party has really left this time.
Adams was uneasy. He knew Kennedy was definitely up to something, but he was determined to throw it all away! He was going to throw away all the tickets he held!
No matter what, we can't let him get any direct evidence!
Adams gripped his cane and hurried downstairs; he needed to make a quick call to his housekeeper.
No matter the amount! No matter the current price, throw away all 26 in gambling tickets you have!!