[Chapter 43: Peanuts]
Hawke crouched behind a sturdy lamp post fewer than five meters away, his handheld camera lens poking out to capture the entire scene.
He was somewhat taken aback, sure something had gone awry; Downey was actually pointing a gun at the LAPD. The plan had gone off course.
However, despite his surprise, Hawke felt a rush of satisfaction.
Downey, kind-hearted and well-meaning, had intended to make him jump off the building.
So, good guy Donny became more kind-hearted.
While the anticipated squid cooked with black pepper deal had been foiled, he ended up with peanuts and stir-fried squid instead.
Of course, things were getting complicated.
Hawke remained composed; he had already set up an escape route upon entering Los Angeles.
He always planned for the worst and had made significant preparations before launching this attack, even put on makeup to go on a trip to Tijuana.
Hawke had an exceptionally steady hand, his mind racing through various options, all while continuing to film the unfolding events.
...
A male officer rushed over from the opposite side, inquiring about the female officer's status before promptly radioing in: "Shooting at the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and 20th Street, suspect down, requesting backup! Medical assistance needed!"
The female officer maintained her composure and didn't panic.
Though she recognized who Downey was, she feared for her life.
The fame belonged to him, but her life was her own, and she had only one to spare.
When guns were aimed at her face, she wasn't about to take any risks.
The body convulsing on the ground was clearly in bad shape, prompting both officers to holster their weapons.
People began to gather from afar; watching the spectacle was a universal truth.
...
Hawke walked closer with the camera, focusing on Downey's chest and bloodied face, capturing several close-ups.
He shifted the camera again, capturing the scene inside the car through the open front passenger door.
He zoomed in on the black bag atop the armrest and the spilled powder, making sure to get a good shot.
The male officer noticed him, prompting Hawke to lift his badge and announce, "Fox News reporter!" He reiterated his stance: "That jerk was armed and assaulted an officer; I witnessed it and can testify!"
Upon hearing the mention of Fox, the officer warned, "Stay away from the scene."
Hawke respected that, remaining a few meters back as he filmed.
In the distance, police lights flashed in succession, and a fleet of LAPD patrol cars arrived.
This was Los Angeles' largest armed violence syndicate, known for covering up for its own.
It wasn't yet the fantastical era when the black gang leaders would expose LAPD undercover lists.
Hawke glanced back at the male officer; this situation was also troublesome for the LAPD.
But the LAPD's basic stance was predictable.
In any city across America, the police system undoubtedly protected its own.
Unless faced with a big donor or boss, but Robert Downey Jr. didn't fit that bill.
Hawke was well aware of Robert Downey Jr.'s history; since 1996, he had been arrested by the LAPD three times and served three years in prison, making it fair to say there was animosity between them.
Hollywood had plenty of players who pushed the envelope more than Downey did.
This was exactly why Hawke dared to have Edward call the police.
The LAPD had apparently targeted Downey.
Hawke was certain it wasn't yet time to make a run for it; the issue lay with Cole.
When he contacted Cole, he had been masked; he had changed his accent and posture, even using a special phone.
Every trace he left pointed back to Anthony Murphy.
Now that Downey had gone down, risks were escalating.
Hawke decided what to do next; he turned off the camera, pulled out a business card with just a name and phone number, and handed it to the male officer: "I captured the entire incident. You did the right thing; if you run into trouble with public opinion, give me a call."
The officer pocketed the card, responding politely, "Thank you."
Hawke shouldered his camera and headed toward his vehicle.
Beside him, a Dodge Durango pulled up, and a long-haired man stepped out.
The man immediately noticed Hawke's badge and looked surprised: "Hey, buddy, didn't expect you to get here so fast!"
Without breaking stride, Hawke replied casually, "Lucky me, just happened to be here."
The man followed after him: "Daniel Richards, we're in the same business. What did you catch? Can you share?"
Hawke pointed back at the scene: "If you head over now, you might still catch some hot footage."
Daniel paused, watching as Hawke got into his car, shaking his head in a hurry to capture the scene.
But he was well aware that the most valuable parts had already been snagged by that jerk of a colleague.
Hawke revved his engine, turned westward, and pulled out his backup phone, dialing a number while continuing with an East Coast accent: "Where are you?"
Cole replied, "In Brentwood. Just grabbing some stuff and then heading to Mexico as you instructed."
He shouted with excitement, "I'm gonna rob Downey; I'm gonna be rich!"
It was only a two-hour drive from Los Angeles to Tijuana, assuming traffic was light.
Hawke turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway, took out the SIM card from his backup phone, shredded it, then dismantled the phone into countless pieces, tossing them into the ocean along the way.
He pulled out another backup phone and called Edward.
After calling the police, Edward had rented a car and was already waiting in Brentwood.
...
Brentwood, Downey's mansion.
Cole used an electronic key to unlock the door and stepped inside, heading straight for the collectibles room. He grabbed the bag he had prepared yesterday, stuffing it with high-end watches, then checked other rooms for cash and jewelry.
His bountiful spoils kept a grin plastered on his face.
Once he quickly finished scavenging, he hopped into a car and made a beeline for San Diego.
He knew he was going to ruin Downey's life worse than his previous three arrests; this time, he was leaving America for good.
In pursuit, Edward showcased adept driving skills.
As Cole crossed the U.S.-Mexico border into Tijuana, there were no checks on the exit, and Edward followed suit until Cole entered a motel.
Using his funds, Edward obtained Cole's room number and called Hawke.
Hawke had already digitized the footage he shot, making several copies.
He answered the call and told Edward to retreat: "Destroy the phone and SIM card I gave you and toss them in Mexico."
Finding a payphone that's vacant, Hawke thought, and dialed the number he got in Tijuana in a poor Hollywood movie accent: "It's me, Phil Delno, the one with the advance from a few days ago; the target has arrived in Tijuana."
He provided the relevant address and added specifically, "He's carrying at least six figures worth of valuables."
The voice on the other end laughed: "Buddy, keep these good deals coming!"
Hawke quickly distanced himself from the area, deep in thought.
As for Jacqueline, without Cole around, the risks had significantly diminished.
Faking a pregnancy to stir a scandal with a celebrity wife was nothing serious.
...
In Tijuana, at a motel, someone knocked on Cole's door.
He cracked it open just enough to see a stunning Mexican woman standing there.
With a charming smile, she spoke in somewhat broken English: "Sir, need any service? Only $50."
Cole surveyed her up and down; she was strikingly beautiful, her figure reminiscent of Hollywood actress Jessica Alba.
The woman swayed slightly, her curves enticing.
Cole opened the door.
At that moment, four Mexican men rushed in from either side.
Before long, they dragged away a large suitcase and Cole's bag.
In the city of Tijuana, people went missing every day, but the chances of being found were negligible.
...
Sherman Oaks, in a standalone house.
Deborah received a call that Downey had been shot dead by the LAPD on the street for assaulting an officer with a firearm.
Her face blanched, she rushed to the living room bar, grabbing a bottle of champagne and pouring herself a generous glass.
She took a big swig, feeling inexplicably delighted.
It felt absolutely fantastic.
The estranged couple had a feud deeper than the ocean.
She didn't have to fight for marital assets now, saving tons on attorney fees.
How many women had every Hollywood star fool around with? A dozen or two was hardly enough, but Downey likely had dozens. Regardless of any illegitimate children, he was no longer in the running for family assets.
This was beyond great.
Deborah felt an impulse to celebrate with fireworks, but on second thought, she'd need to maintain an appearance of deep sorrow.
It was best to wait until after inheriting the estate to set off any celebrations.
...
As night fell, Hawke parked in Century City, pulling out his everyday Nokia phone to check for missed calls - none.
He dialed Claire at Channel 11, getting straight to the point: "I'm Hawke Osment, the source on the Gandalf pursuit news."
Claire, who interacted with numerous reporters daily, immediately connected the dots and asked, "Got big news?"
Hawke quickly replied, "I'm giving you a tip: not long ago, Robert Downey Jr. was shot dead by the LAPD at the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and 20th Street."
Claire, who worked in entertainment news, responded, "I already heard about that. Anything else?"
Hawke stated flatly, "I recorded the entire incident, video footage."
"You got it on tape?" Claire nearly shouted, taking several deep breaths before seriously asking, "Hawke Osment, you're certain you filmed the whole thing?"
Hawke's tone grew serious: "The footage is on my laptop."
Without hesitation, Claire replied, "Where are you? I'll send a car to get you right away. Before we listen to the official offer from Midnight Entertainment, please don't talk to any other media; we'll offer you the highest price in the industry."
Hawke said, "No need, I'll drive over."
After they hung up, Claire promptly left her desk, knocking on the producer's office door. She shut the door tight behind her and said to Megan, "Hawke Osment, the freelancer who provided us with news about the Lord of the Rings set, just called me, claiming he recorded the entire incident of the LAPD shooting Robert Downey Jr."
Megan sprung to her feet: "Where is he? I need to see him right away."
A living Robert Downey Jr. might not draw much interest, but a Hollywood star dying in a gun battle would skyrocketed in value!
Claire responded, "He's on his way here."
Megan ordered, "You wait for him at the building entrance. This isn't just entertainment news; this is social news; we must not let it slip away."
Every gossip journalist has a heart that beats for mainstream news.
"I'm on it," Claire replied, turning to leave.
Megan picked up the phone on her desk, dialing a number: "What's our budget left for this month? What? Not enough! Get an immediate request up the chain; go through the top-tier hot news channel. Any issues on that end, I will handle!"
Securing exclusive footage of the incident would make the first report inconsequential; everyone's eyes would be glued to Channel 11's Midnight Entertainment.
*****
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