Chereads / The Wealth Code / Chapter 60 - 0060 How much strength a man has, how much burden he has to carry

Chapter 60 - 0060 How much strength a man has, how much burden he has to carry

On the other hand, Chief Johnson waited outside the restaurant for a while after leaving the meeting, smoked two cigarettes, and drove to Michael's house with clenched teeth.

Mrs. Michael had finished her treatment at the hospital, all of her physical bruises and traumas had healed, all that remained was the psychological treatment, which could take anywhere from three to six months or so, depending on the situation, or possibly a little longer.

The long psychotherapy sessions also meant high expenses, and Michael's job had been suspended, cutting off the family's entire income at once.

Even though he still had some money in his bank account, about twenty thousand dollars or so, there was no way to cover the various expenses that would follow.

In fact, the psychotherapy thing was a typical rich man's disease in the eyes of the average person, especially the poor people living in the lower city, and those girls living in the chaotic streets of the lower city had grown up with almost all kinds of harassment.

From verbal harassment to petty harassment to the possibility of violent harassment, it stands to reason that all these people should be perverted or self-destructive, but not all of them are exactly like that.

Some of them do self-destruct, but there are still some who remain strong and optimistic.

Pain hurts, but also gives people the courage to strive to be strong, just because in the darkness, will be more longing for the light of the above is bullshit, life is to live, live must be strong.

As soon as Chief Johnson pulled up to Michael's house, he saw the police car on the side of the road and two policemen having afternoon tea.

They glanced at Chief Johnson before pulling their eyes away to concentrate on the sweet coffee and chocolate-covered doughnuts in their hands.

Although Michael had left the police station, he was still under surveillance, unable to leave the area where he lived without necessity, unable to interact alone with outsiders.

However, because he was once a "licensed" person, the police relaxed his guard a bit, and he did not have to have a police officer present when he talked to others.

Chief Johnson had been to Michael's house more than once, several times, and each time he thought Michael was lucky, with a happy family, a harmonious career, and an upwardly mobile good life filling the room.

But this time, the moment he pushed open the door, a rotten smell like that of a grave poured out of the room, unpleasant to smell, but also causing people's spirits to plummet instantly.

There was no light in the room, and some of the windows were covered with curtains, probably because of Mrs. Michael's heart disease, Michael was shrouded in darkness.

The door opened and light from outside shone in, making the room noticeably brighter and allowing for more detail.

Michael sat on the couch with a withered description, he was noticeably thinner than he had been half a month ago, and his entire body was a bit thin and deformed.

A face of unkempt, florid stubble made him look scruffy, especially his uncombed hair, which had actually taken on a grayish color, as if time had fast-forwarded on him a bit, allowing him to enter his old age as if he had entered it prematurely.

Michael glanced at Chief Johnson, just glanced, and pulled his eyes away to continue staring at the TV screen, which wasn't on, probably thinking.

A karmic fire rose along the soles of Commissioner Johnson's feet, he was already considered a good talker in the tax office, he'd thought he'd get along with everyone, but to look at a guy like Michael, you couldn't help but get pissed.

Not to say that it was a disgrace to the person, but at least he should have shown some gratitude or appreciation, and when he was in trouble, he, the big chief, even came to visit him, and he treated himself like air.

Soon, the anger disappeared again, if he was really angry, he would have been pissed off by this group of SON OF BITCHES a long time ago.

"What are you doing here?" Michael's tone was mocking, "To give me the last word?"

Chief Johnson froze for a moment before his eyes were drawn to several newspapers on the coffee table, he knew what the problem was.

One thing that had been discussed in the papers for the past two days was whether or not there was a personal vendetta between Michael and Lynch, and then whether or not there was a possibility that Michael had a personal vendetta.

Publication of private vengeance and law enforcement is too large has nothing to do with, is still separate from the isolated incident, on the contrary, because Michael's publication of private vengeance affects the tax department and law enforcement departments, before the public opinion of these departments to slam how hard, the back of the apology is how big.

On top of that, there are those who link Michael, the father and son duo of Michael Jr. and Lynch's history of calling the police on thefts.

Michael is a mentally and physically sound adult with clear is three views and independent thinking, and he knows full well that when the media winds start to shift, it means someone is behind it all.

The media is clearly trying to set him up as a bad example, something they couldn't possibly do on their own because they are all focused on the issue of law enforcement powers.

What would make them change, on the other hand, would be certain people behind them who were about to give up on themselves, and that was Michael's take-home message for the last two days, and as a result he showed resistance to Chief Johnson.

Chief Johnson remained silent, he did not know how to open his mouth, this silence instead rapidly increased the disappointment and despair within Michael and also made him deeply realize that he was not afraid, everything was fulfilled, he was abandoned.

His throat suddenly became a little scratchy and his voice hoarse for a split second, as if there was a layer of sand in his throat, every word and every letter filled with a distinct graininess.

"Why?"

He craned his head to look at Chief Johnson, "Why, and whose decision was it?"

Chief Johnson's face reddened slightly as he sighed, "A decision from above, you're making the whole system passive".

"The whole system becomes passive and my superiors are going to abandon me!?" Michael said and got excited, his face quickly reddened and some white spittle appeared at the corner of his mouth, HE was seething with anger, the whole person's mental state didn't seem to be very good.

Looking at Michael who was glaring at himself, Chief Johnson was suddenly calm and stable and his eyesight changed, becoming a bit unreadable and frightening to Michael.

"You've always been impulsive and bad tempered, and I've said that about you more than once," Chief Johnson's voice held a hint of nostalgia for the old days, "In the ten years or so since I've been Chief, the complaints against you alone have taken up more than half of the Sabine Tax Office's entire complaint inbox."

"You like to threaten targets of detection, you like to casually get your hands dirty, you casually insult and even humiliate others, and you often act without formalities, there are too many flaws in you."

Johnson looked at Michael with a serious expression, "Don't feel hurt, this is what you deserve, I have warned you, but you always follow your own rules!"

"Times are different, it's a new era, our society is getting better every year, in the past we may not have purged ourselves of the wildness, the savagery, but now we have."

"Even if you hadn't met Lynch, you would have met Chickie or Madge or someone like that, and if you don't change, you're bound to fall."

"Don't say we let you down, you let yourself down!"

Director Johnson's words made Michael become calm and frustrated again, he held his head in pain, he actually knew that Director Johnson was right about everything, but once this style of working was formed, it was hard to change.

No, I should say it was an inherent notion that criminals had no human rights in Michael's eyes, and he had made up his mind through a few like Masthead.

As long as they weren't killed, they would pretend nothing had happened because they were already too impure to speak out and would just suffer in silence.

Until he met Lynch, a criminal who used the law and the police as a weapon, and he was completely stunned.

He couldn't figure out why Lynch, why himself, why his family, why this asshole didn't play by the rules!

Just then, the door to the upstairs room opened and a somewhat worried Mrs. Michael, with a sickly look on her face, stood at the edge of the hallway, looking worriedly at the two men in the living room downstairs.

Chief Johnson glanced back as he raised his hand to press and squeeze Michael's shoulder.