American variety show: The Godfather, the Peace Ambassador, what the heck?

Chapter 156 Serving the People's Entrepreneurs
Detroit, Truck Drivers Union Chapter.

At the entrance, Bobby Marshall lit a cigarette, put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and looked around furtively like a thief.

As a heavyweight street fighter in Detroit's East Side, Bobby started fighting on the streets from a young age. As a child, he used his fists and sticks, and as he grew up, he began using shotguns and Molotov cocktails. He caused quite a bit of trouble in the underworld and offended many people, forcing him to leave Detroit and make a living elsewhere.

I've heard in recent years that the Sweet gang has changed leaders; old Sweet died, and his nephew took over.

Many enemies from other gangs in the East District also died in gang warfare.

After traveling for several years, he returned to find that most of his enemies were dead.

This made Bobby realize how unpredictable life can be. The fighting back home was much fiercer; the gangs outside were dragging their feet. Take Uncle Hoffa, for example—why didn't they just kill Fitz directly? Why did they have to go through all this drawn-out fighting?

A moment later, a well-dressed Black man emerged from the union's gate—Jerry Marshel, Bobby's half-brother and also an adopted child of Ms. Marshel.

Of the four brothers, only Jerry stayed in Detroit to take care of their mother; the other brothers all went off to make their own way in the world.

Upon meeting, the two brothers gave each other a warm hug.

"Not bad, huh?" Bobby glanced at the guild sign behind Jerry. "Back when we were fighting in the streets together, you never told me you'd become a guild star. Look at you dressed like a businessman."

Jerry grinned, revealing his bright white teeth. "Envious? Haven't you been getting quite close to Uncle Hoffa lately? You can join the guild too."

"No, I like being free. Joining a union would restrict my freedom."

Bobby thought to himself that he didn't want to drive those heavy trucks; when he got impatient in traffic jams, he could smash the steering wheel to pieces with one punch.

“Tell me what trouble you’re in, and I, as your older brother, can help you,” Bobby said with concern.

Jerry also looked around furtively, then called Bobby to a nearby coffee shop, where they sat down and discussed the matter in detail.

As a guild member, Jerry performed exceptionally well. Due to his mother's relationship with Hoffa, he was highly valued within the guild and made a fortune along the way.

Later, he wanted to go out on his own, start his own business, make it bigger and stronger, and create a career!
This business was a redevelopment project of the municipal government—he went all in, investing all his savings, borrowing a lot of money, and even applying for a loan from the union fund.

“Now Vic Sweet has popped up wanting a piece of the pie,” Jerry said helplessly. “They’re blackmailing me. If I don’t pay, they’re going to cut my project. Vic has connections in the city council; he can stop my project.”

Bobby was completely bewildered. "Vic? I only remember one named Macon Sweet."

Jerry: "Vic is his nephew. He used to help his uncle transport incendiary bombs and prostitutes. Later, Vic threw his uncle into the river and became the boss himself. Now this whole area belongs to him."

Bobby was speechless: "It seems a lot has happened in Detroit while I was away. How much money is Vic asking you for?"

Jerry: "40."

Bobby laughed angrily: "Is this idiot insane? Asking for 40 just by talking?"

Jerry sighed, “Babby, if you want to cross the bridge, you have to pay the toll. Vic didn’t hold a gun to my forehead and force me to pay, but he cut off all my escape routes, forcing me to walk into his clutches. I’ve already invested all my money, there’s no turning back. If this project fails, I’ll not only go bankrupt, but I’ll also be burdened with millions in debt.”

The penniless Bobby lives a hand-to-mouth existence, indulging in immediate pleasures and having no concept of saving money.

Faced with his brother's predicament, Bobby said with a pained expression, "Besides giving money, is there any other solution? I'll go and do something to Vic. Once he's dead, your project should be able to proceed smoothly, right?"

Jerry: "."

As expected of the eldest brother in the family who often makes his mother furious, he always acts so decisively and directly, without any regard for the "consequences." He dares to storm someone's lair with just a shotgun.

“If you kill Vic, my business will be over,” Jerry said helplessly. “You can leave, but I still need to do business in Detroit, and my mother still needs to live here. Can we afford the wrath of the Sweet family?”

Bobby grinned and joked, "Then let's just wipe out their entire family."

Jerry: "."

Brother, you really are my brother.
Bobby's smile faded. "I was just kidding. Let's think of another way. Hmm, I recently learned a few phrases in New York: 'harmony is precious,' and 'harmony brings wealth.' Let's think of another way."

Jerry looked at him suspiciously. "Is your 'peace is paramount' really serious?"

"By the way, don't tell your mother about this," Jerry reminded her. "I don't want her to worry."

"I don't let anything slip out."

Jerry then invited Bobby to his home. Bobby had already moved out of his mother's house and was married, making him the most settled of the four brothers.

Therefore, when Jerry's wife met the infamous Bobby, she was outwardly friendly, but privately she pulled Jerry aside and complained, "Why did you bring Bobby back?"

“Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t lived that kind of life for a long time,” Jerry explained. “I haven’t seen Bobby in centuries. He rarely comes back to Detroit, so we were just catching up.”

His wife looked suspicious, always feeling that Bobby was a troublemaker and that nothing good ever came of his return.

Detroit Police Department.

Philip Ross is cooperating with his superiors' investigation and questioning for a simple reason: he used excessive force during law enforcement, killing a black thief.

Supervisor: "He was shot in the back, which means he was running away and you shot him from behind."

Philip didn't think he had done anything wrong; instead, he questioned, "He was running away at the time. If I didn't attack him from behind, where else could I attack him?"

Is it even possible for this to hit the face? "."

Why are you so self-righteous? The boss was exasperated. "What I mean is, his back to you means he poses no threat to you. You can't shoot him. He's just stealing."

Philip continued to question, "If he was just stealing, why would he run away? Is it possible that he killed someone in the supermarket? He's hiding from the police."

“You can’t make assumptions! If he had a weapon, that would be one thing, but if he didn’t, you can’t just shoot a thief.”

"He didn't stop even after he was shot."

"He is dead."

"...emmm, I'm sorry, I just wanted to stop him."

"Just an apology?"

"if not?"

Philip spread his hands, not thinking there was anything wrong with what he did. Those damn blacks were full of evil, you could smell it from kilometers away. Did they think they couldn't shoot someone for committing a crime?

Let alone stealing, even if the other party dared to give me the middle finger, I would shoot without hesitation on the grounds of "assaulting a police officer".

Only bullets can teach those black guys to follow the rules.

Seeing Philip's attitude, his superior felt helpless. He knew how serious his subordinate's racist tendencies were, but it was precisely Philip's strong sense of "justice" that made the black people realize that the Detroit Police Department was not to be trifled with.

Moreover, many police officers in the police department were unwilling to patrol the black communities in the East Side because they were too chaotic, but Philip dared to. His patrol team rampaged around there, acting arrogantly and violently, and enjoying the violence.

The superiors felt that keeping a "talented" person like Philip in the police force was a double-edged sword.
This matter can only be left unresolved; the person is dead, so all we can do is fill this hole.

He is not keen on bringing murder charges against Philip, even though the charge could easily be proven.
"Philip, go out. Remember to act calmly in the future."

"yes sir!"

Philip put on his police hat, concealing his fierce and unfriendly face.

As Philip walked down the corridor, he looked up and saw a colleague accompanying an elderly woman – it was Ms. Marcel, who was quite well-known in the community, and Philip recognized this white old lady.

He thought it was a good thing for Ms. Marcel to adopt homeless orphans, but the old lady shouldn't have adopted those black orphans.

There are already enough Black people in Detroit; white people are almost losing their living space.

Philip glanced at his colleague and the old lady, greeted them, and then returned to his workstation.

Curious, he asked his friend, "What's Ms. Marcel doing at the police station? Have her adopted kids gotten into trouble again?"

"I don't know either, I guess it's because of this."

"There's a reason why no one wants those orphans. Apart from Ms. Marcel, which family would be willing to adopt these problem children who could cause trouble at any time?"

Philip shook his head, preparing to continue working, when someone suddenly found him.

Someone reported to the police that an oil tanker truck had been robbed in the eastern district, resulting in significant losses.

Furthermore, it subtly reveals a piece of information—this matter is related to the Zellelli family.

Philip's eyes lit up.

That's great news! The Mafia boss is really generous!
Without saying a word, Philip immediately went to meet the big boss in person.

The meeting place was naturally not at the police station, but at a high-end restaurant booked by Zerelli. After arriving at the location, Philip met with Zerelli, a big shot, and learned about his demands from him.

One is to arrest the criminals who dare to steal gasoline and save the Mafia from losses of up to millions of dollars;
Second, it is necessary to ensure that the Zerelli family's gasoline business in Detroit will not be interfered with by those black gangs in the future.

Zereli needs peace!!

To achieve this goal, Zerelli suggested sponsoring the Detroit Police Department, specifically sponsoring Philip, a police officer who served the people and fought against evil.

Zerelli said tactfully, “Our gasoline business is a legitimate business. It not only brings cheap gasoline, but also creates more jobs and helps the city government solve the problem of the continuous decline in the employment rate. This has received strong support from the city government. But there are always some unscrupulous people who want to sabotage this cooperation. Do they want to ruin the livelihoods of countless drivers?”

Do they want to destroy this car city?!
"Philip, I know you're very good at handling Black crime; your reputation precedes you throughout the East Side. I need your help with this. But I don't want things to get too messy. When you resolve this, please don't make a big fuss. First, help me find out where the tanker truck and gasoline are."

Philip looked at the box of bright green banknotes on the table and a bright smile spread across his face.

That's something I can do!

Fighting crime is my mission, especially against the black criminals I hate the most. The key is that there has to be a reason for this, that those black criminals committed the crime first, stealing gasoline from legitimate businessmen.

These black people deserve to die!
Immediately, Philip put his five fingers together and lightly touched his forehead with his palm.

"Serve the people's entrepreneurs!!"

Philip placed his other hand on the banknotes.

(End of this chapter)