American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

“DeSean, I need you to maintain your current lifestyle,” Lynn said. “If they come to you again, don’t refuse too directly, but don’t agree to anything either. Call me right away.”

“Are you about to take action?” DeShawn asked.

“Possibly, but I need more evidence,” Lynn replied. “The most important thing is to ensure that young people like you who have reformed aren’t dragged back down.”

“I understand,” DeSean said earnestly. “I won’t let you down. You gave me a new life, and I won’t waste it.”

Leaving the car wash, Lynn felt both relieved and worried. He was relieved that the young people he had previously "educated" were heading in the right direction; he was worried that new threats were threatening the stability of the community.

At 7 p.m., Lynn returned to the FBI field office and began organizing the information he had gathered that day. He needed to develop a detailed investigation plan that would both combat new criminal activity and protect the young people in the community.

"How was the harvest?" James asked.

“The situation is more complicated than I thought,” Lynn replied. “There’s an outside gang trying to infiltrate our community, and they’re clever; they’re specifically targeting young people who are struggling financially.”

"Is there any action we need to take?"

“We need more evidence,” Lynn said, “but we need to increase surveillance in that area. At the same time, I’d like to contact some social service agencies to see if we can provide more legal assistance to families in need.”

This is Lynn's unique approach to law enforcement. He focuses not only on fighting crime, but also on preventing it. He reduces the incentives for crime by addressing the root causes—poverty, lack of opportunity, and family hardship.

At nine o'clock in the evening, as Lynn was preparing to leave work, he remembered Xiao Jie's situation. He took out his phone and called several charitable organizations and medical aid agencies to inquire about the possibility of emergency medical assistance.

After several phone calls, he found a possible solution. There was a medical foundation that specifically helped low-income families and might be able to provide assistance with the surgery costs for Xiao Jie's mother. Although some paperwork and review procedures were required, it was much safer than engaging in criminal activity.

The next morning, Lynn went to see Xiao Jie first and told him the good news.

"Really?" Xiao Jie's eyes filled with hope upon hearing the news. "Will they really help us?"

“It will take some procedures and time, but the prospects are very good,” Lynn said. “I’ve scheduled an interview for you this afternoon. But you’ll need to bring your mother’s medical records and proof of your family’s income.”

“I’ll get ready,” Xiao Jie said excitedly. “Thank you, Inspector Hall. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“The best way to show your gratitude is to continue making the right choices,” Lynn said, “and stay away from those who want to take advantage of you.”

After dealing with Xiao Jie's matter, Lynn began to focus on the investigation. Based on the information gathered the previous day, he and James began monitoring the area near East 125th Street.

After two days of observation, they did indeed discover suspicious activity. Several young men who were clearly not locals were frequently seen around an old building, and many local young people came to contact them.

“Looks like we’ve found our target,” James said over the radio.

“Yes, but we need solid evidence,” Lynn responded. “Right now, it’s just suspicious activity.”

Just then, Lynn spotted a familiar figure—it was DeShawn. He was walking towards the building.

“Damn it,” Lynn muttered, “what’s DeSean doing there?”

He immediately got out of the car and followed DeSean. When DeSean entered the building, Lynn quietly followed him in as well.

The first floor of the building was an abandoned shop, but Lynn heard noises coming from upstairs. He carefully went upstairs and heard a conversation.

“We need more reliable people,” an unfamiliar voice said. “You’ve worked in this area before; you should know who you can trust.”

“I don’t do those things anymore,” DeShawn’s voice came through. “I have a legitimate job now.”

“But you can make more money with very little risk,” another voice persuaded. “All you need to do is introduce us to some reliable young people.”

Lynn realized that DeSean hadn't betrayed his trust. On the contrary, these people were trying to exploit DeSean's past to recruit new people.

“I won’t do that,” DeShawn said firmly, “and I suggest you leave this community. There are people here who won’t tolerate your activities.”

"Are you threatening us?" a voice asked, turning dangerous.

Lynn felt it was time to intervene. He took out his FBI badge and strode into the room.

“FBI, everyone, hands up!” Lynn shouted.

There were four people in the room: DeShawn and three young men who were clearly from out of town. They all raised their hands upon seeing Lynn's identification.

"DeShawn, are you alright?" Lynn asked.

“It’s nothing, Inspector Hall,” DeSean replied. “I just wanted to tell them not to do these kinds of things in our community.”

Lynn was proud of DeShawn's actions, but also worried about his safety.

“You three, your identification documents,” Lynn said to the other three.

After checking their identities, Lynn discovered that these men were indeed from Brooklyn and had criminal records. Although they weren't caught immediately engaging in drug dealing during this encounter, Lynn had sufficient reason to take them back to the precinct for further investigation.

“DeSean, you should leave now,” Lynn said to DeSean. “I’ll talk to you later to get more details.”

“Okay, Inspector Hall,” DeSean said. “I’m sorry, I know you told me to contact you, but I want to handle this myself.”

“Your courage is commendable, but you must be more careful next time,” Lynn reminded him.

That evening, in the precinct's interrogation room, Lynn and James questioned the three men. After several hours of investigation, they obtained crucial information: this was part of a larger drug distribution network that was attempting to establish operational bases in multiple neighborhoods in Manhattan.

“It seems this is just the tip of the iceberg,” James said.

“Yes, we need to contact other branches to conduct a larger-scale joint operation,” Lynn agreed.

The following evening at 8 PM, Lynn decided to delve deeper into the drug distribution network he had uncovered the day before. Based on the information gathered, these outsider groups were not only recruiting young people on the streets but also establishing sales outlets in various entertainment venues. One of the prime suspects was the "Blue Nights" bar on Eighth Avenue. Lynn changed into an outfit that made him appear more like an ordinary customer: a dark casual suit, a white shirt without a tie, and comfortable leather shoes. He needed to blend into the bar's environment to observe the situation without revealing his FBI agent identity.

"Blue Nights" bar is located on the ground floor of an old building. It looks ordinary from the outside, but the interior is quite sophisticated. Dim lighting, jazz background music, and a wide variety of bottles of liquor behind the bar create a typical New York nightclub atmosphere.

Lynn walked into the bar and chose a corner seat with a view of the entire place. He ordered a whiskey and began to carefully observe his surroundings.

There were about thirty customers in the bar, mostly young people in their twenties and thirties. The music masked most of the conversation, but Lynn, with his years of experience, quickly noticed something suspicious.

On the other side of the bar, several men who appeared to be outsiders were having brief conversations with different customers. These conversations usually lasted only a minute or two before the customers left, and the men moved on to their next target.

“A typical drug trafficking pattern,” Lynn analyzed in his mind, “small quantities, fast, and dispersed.”

He took out his phone, pretending to send a text message, but actually recording the characteristics and behavioral patterns of these suspicious individuals. Just as he was focused on observing, a familiar figure appeared in his field of vision.

“Damn it,” Lynn muttered.

That was Taron Johnson, a twenty-three-year-old. Lynn remembered him well because he had personally arrested Taron two years earlier. Taron had been sentenced to eighteen months in prison for cocaine trafficking and had just been released three months earlier.

To make matters worse, Lynn saw Taren talking to one of the suspicious men and taking something from his hand.

“He’s started again,” Lynn realized the seriousness of the situation.

As an experienced detective, Lynn knew that he had to be caught on the spot to ensure the validity of the evidence. He quickly sent a text message to James, informing him of his current location and situation, and then began preparing for the operation.

After taking the items, Taren headed towards the bar's restroom. Lynn waited a few seconds, then got up and followed him.

There were only the two of them in the bathroom. Taren was checking the items he had just acquired when he looked up and saw Lynn's reflection in the mirror, and his face turned deathly pale.

“Detective Hall.” Taren’s voice trembled.

“Taron Johnson,” Lynn said calmly, “turn around and put your hands where I can see you.”

Taren slowly turned around, holding a small plastic bag in his hand, which was clearly filled with white powder.

“This isn’t mine,” Taren said immediately. “I was forced.”

"Put the things on the sink, then put your hands on your head," Lynn commanded, taking out handcuffs as he did so.

Taren did as he was told, but continued to explain, "Detective Hall, you have to believe me, I really don't want to do these things anymore."

Lynn handcuffed Taren and then carefully examined the plastic bag. Judging from its appearance and packaging, it was indeed cocaine intended for sale.

“Taron Johnson, you are arrested for possession of controlled substances intended for sale,” Lynn began reading Miranda's rights, “You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say may be used against you in court.”

“I understand my rights,” Taren interrupted him, “but please give me a chance to explain.”

Lynn completed the arrest procedure and then led Taren out of the bar through the back door to avoid attracting the attention of other patrons. While waiting for backup, he continued to observe the situation inside the bar and noticed that the suspicious individuals seemed to have sensed something and began preparing to leave.

"When will the reinforcements arrive?" Lynn asked over the radio.

“Within five minutes,” James’s voice came through, “should we surround the bar?”

“No need, the target may already be alerted,” Lynn replied. “Let’s take Taren back first, then we can figure out the next step.”

Twenty minutes later, Lynn led Taren to the interrogation room at the FBI's Manhattan office. It was a standard interrogation room with a metal table, two chairs, and a one-way glass window in the wall. Lynn had Taren sit down and then began the formal interrogation.

“Taren, we need to talk,” Lynn said bluntly. “You’ve only been out of jail for three months, and now you’ve been found in possession of drugs. Do you understand what that means?”

Taren lowered his head. "I know, Inspector Hall. I know this looks terrible."

“It’s not just that it looks bad, it’s bad,” Lynn said seriously. “As a repeat offender, you’ll face a longer sentence.”

Taren looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. "But you must believe me, I was truly forced."

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Lynn said, sitting down. “Tell me what happened.”

Taren took a deep breath and began to tell his story: “After I got out of prison, I really wanted to start over. I found a job at a construction company; the pay wasn’t high, but it was decent income.”

“And then?” Lynn encouraged him to continue.

“Two weeks ago, someone came to me,” Taron continued, “a guy I knew from prison, named Mark Williams. He said he was now working for some ‘big shots’ and wanted me to rejoin him.”

Lynn wrote down the name. Mark Williams was listed in the FBI's database as a mid-level member of an organized crime group.

“I refused,” Taren continued. “I told him I already had a legitimate job and didn’t want to go back to my old life.”

Did he accept your rejection?

Taren shook his head. "At first he said he understood, but a few days later, I ran into trouble at work. The construction company boss suddenly said there were problems with my background check and fired me."

"You don't think this is a coincidence?" Lynn asked.

“I know it wasn’t,” Taren said definitively. “Then Mark came to me and said that if I didn’t cooperate, not only would I not be able to find a job, but I might also face other troubles.”

Lynn frowned. If Taren was telling the truth, this wasn't a simple individual crime, but an organized act of coercion.

Did he threaten you?

“It wasn’t a direct threat, but the implication was clear,” Taren said. “He also mentioned my sister. She’s in high school now, doing very well, and hoping to go to college. Mark said that if I don’t cooperate, my sister might ‘run into some problems.’” (End of Chapter)