The sepias of the afternoon stain the forest and the interiors of the buildings, they also paint the mountain cliffs, gleaming like gold. To any innocent bystander it would seem that no rancor or evil could grow in that peaceful place.
The minivan and the police patrol car occupy a spot in the Fruit&Food parking lot. At the entrance of the local, Sheriff Stabler, a black skin woman, wide hands, formidable hips, and serious eyes kept behind sunglasses, talks to the manager and interrogates him about what happened a few hours ago.
The little man constantly wipes a handkerchief across his forehead, while casting sporadic glances at James, who stands about ten paces behind the police, in the company of his daughter. On James' face and bare arms are the bandages her daughter used to cure him. Veronica, with her arms crossed, stares at the manager.
"Mr. Johansen, I need you to be completely honest with me. Mr. Mayers was attacked in your establishment and then fired for no reason?"
"I told you! That man started bothering customers!" He points an accusing finger at James. James' face flushes with indignation. Veronica keeps a neutral, fixed expression on Johansen. The manager lowers his arm and turns his face back to the policewoman. "The customers seemed like good kids... They came to inform me that the security guard had gone crazy and was harassing them and crushing the products"
"That's a lie!" James shouts.
Stabler shoots James a hard look, demanding calm and silence. After the officer sees James calm down, the questioning resumes.
"Mr. James has been working with you for two years without incident, we could say he is a competent employee... Why would he lose control for no reason? It sounds like a scene far removed from reality"
"How do I know? Maybe he was drugged, or drunk... Just pay attention, from here I can smell the stench of liquor. When he came to me two years ago he told me a very sad story of how he was having a hard time keeping jobs because of his problems..."
Johansen pretends to steep an imaginary bottle, then tosses it into nothingness and pats his hands.
"I gave him my vote of confidence, I gave him a bigger salary than he deserved, and now look at how he paid me"
James steps forward with clenched fists, about to run up to the manager and jump on him. Veronica wraps an arm around him and holds tight, preventing he doing anything stupid in front of law officer.
"Do you have the names of the boys involved? I'd like to talk to them" Stabler asks.
"I'm sorry, officer, I was too nervous and forgot to write them down. They didn't look like locals. Maybe tourists, college students, like I said, nice guys"
"In that case I need to see the security cameras' recordings"
"That... That's going to be difficult" the manager sweeps the sweat from his furrowed brow again. "Because those recordings... Don't exist"
Stabler raises her sunglasses and squints, glaring at the little man.
"Explain yourself, Mr. Johansen. And the explanation had better be good"
The manager gulps and starts playing with the damp handkerchief in his hands.
"It's to save on expenses, the cameras are only there for concealment and to frighten the naughty ones, those who steal a piece of chewing gum or an adult magazine. The cameras are on, but the computers are not"
"Bullshit!" James shouts again, and again Stabler orders him to be quiet at a glance.
"That's very irresponsible"
"Please, officer, be honest with yourself. Since when do robberies or problems occur in Sweet Hills? This is the most safest town in America"
"I need to take a look at those computers anyway"
"As you wish. Come with me"
Manager Johansen was a smart man, he had already removed any incriminating recordings from the computers. The sheriff leaves the supermarket ten minutes later, and it's clear from her frustrated look that she didn't get anywhere. Stabler walks over to where James and Veronica are waiting.
"I'm sorry, James. But at the moment it's your word against his, and rarely do such dilemmas come to fruition. Are you sure you can't think of any other witnesses?"
James lowers his head and sighs.
"None... I think I'll let it go"
Stabler nods, and places a hand on James' shoulder in encouragement. James' face twists in pain and Stabler pulls her hand away.
"Sorry!"
"It's nothing... I'll heal"
Stabler nods again, adjusts her glasses, then looks at Veronica and nods again. She climbs into the police car and pulls away. As the squad car crosses the next street and disappears from sight, Veronica turns the face to her father and questions:
"Why didn't you tell her about Mrs. Wu and her son? They were both present"
"The sheriff is right, these cases rarely end well. I'd rather find another job and move on, Vera. Forgetting will be the best thing for our family"
Veronica remains silent.
They get into the minivan, Veronica in the driver's seat and her father in the passenger seat. James leans his head against the window pane, his tired gaze quickening slightly as he notices that Veronica has not yet started the vehicle. James looks at his daughter, who is on her cell phone.
"What's wrong?"
"Remember when you told me that people often confuse unfinished causes with lost causes?" Veronica says, looking sideways at James.
"No... When did I say that?"
"During a Monopoly game, I think. I was losing. Your words have value, Dad. We'll play this game to the end"
James is left with his mouth hanging open. When he comes out of his stupor, a smile forms on his face, and a pang of pride warms his heart.
"Wow, I had no idea... And who won that game?"
"Jason" Veronica answers without looking.
The girl gets what she was looking for on her cell phone and shows it to her father. It's a commercial for a recently opened business in town.
The images are reproduced in black and white. It begins with a sad-faced salaryman with a wrinkled tie, walking down a hallway, between cubicles, while holding a cardboard box full of office supplies, including a framed diploma titling him as the former employee of the month.
The scene changes to the same employee sitting on a sidewalk in the rain, hunched over and with the soggy box of items next to him. A Ferrari passes by on the road at top speed and raises a puddle, showering the poor man with dirty water.
The scene changes again, this time the salaryman enters a gloomy bedroom with a rope in his hands, writes a note which he then leaves under his computer mouse, then plants a chair in the center of the room. He climbs up, hangs the rope at an indeterminate point on the ceiling, prepares a noose, and the last thing heard is a sudden noise of tension, a groan, and the subject's feet knocking the chair over to dangle in a silent five-second close-up.
The silence is broken by the sudden appearance of a tanned man in a red suit and gold bow tie, who cuts the image in the middle. The middle-aged man with tousled black hair keeps his hands clasped together and his head down, as if in heavy mourning. He slowly raises his countenance to reveal an expression that even while solemn seems to hide a sardonic smile.
"This scenario you saw is not sci-fi. Nor is it fantasy or a Hollywood movie, or even an exaggerated scene from some book you found on the Internet. This, my friends, is real life uncensored and unfiltered. Millions of Americans, good people, people who built the foundations of this glorious country, suffer this kind of problem every day... The reasons? Countless"
He takes a side step so that a list of words so numerous and fast-moving that even pausing makes them impossible to read. The list ends and the focus shifts to a medium shot of the man, who points to the camera.
"But I have a solution! The solution that nourishes the amendments and offers the constitution! The blindfolded lady's weapon!"
He shows his palms as if to hold something, and the magic of editing makes the words: "Demand", "Reparation", and "Reclaim", appear between his hands accompanied in the background by a choir of angels. The man snaps his fingers.
The salaryman reappears, alive and looking sideways in confusion, standing in front of a very obvious green screen showing a midday on a beach shore combed by blue waves. The salaryman is approached from the left by a pretty blonde woman in a bikini, with plump lips and even more inflated breasts, who places a necklace of flowers on him, and then he is also approached from the right by the lawyer, who hands him a martini and then points at the camera again.
"A well-supported lawsuit can be the difference between your dream life and the noose of doomsday! And who better to lead those battles than me, your trusted attorney? Mercury Justice!"
Plants his palms against the own chest.
"Well, nice, and cheap, that's Justice For A Dollar! The one-man syndicate! The order of the lone knight protecting the unprivileged! You're not a Biden? You're not a Trump? You're not a Clinton? Not even a Soros? I don't care! I don't judge you by your past or your ancestors, I come is to fight for your cause. Your cause is my cause!"
A number and an e-mail address start flashing across the bottom of the screen.
"Dial 555-JUST, or email Justiceforadollar@hotmail.com, and defeat the injustices in your life! Mercury Justice promises! Now working from Sweet Hills"
The video concludes with a panoramic sweep of the town.