"I'll be speaking with my client privately," Saul announced firmly. "No questions until then."
After their private consultation, Sean patted Saul's arm casually. "It's straightforward enough. Handle it - I need to rest. This headache is killing me."
Sean knew the American judicial system well enough. It was complex but perfect in its way. The police had limited power, especially when it came to detention. In a country that valued freedom so highly, restricting someone's liberty required substantial evidence and the district attorney's approval.
That is, of course, when there was a lawyer present to defend their client's rights.
Thirty minutes later, everything changed. When Saul pulled up Sean's records and highlighted the Rockefeller surname to Captain Thompson and Detective Roberts, most of their suspicions evaporated. The Rockefeller name carried weight, and there weren't many of them.
Sean's military record helped too - his participation in the Grenada invasion under Operation "Urgent Fury" explained his composed reaction to both the shooting and police questioning.
After Saul agreed to have Sean provide a formal statement later, they were free to go.
"So," Saul asked as they left the station, "what was so urgent you needed me here?"
They'd been friends for a decade, back when Saul was still known as "Slippery Jimmy" and before Sean's mother died of an overdose. Back then, Sean had been attending an elite private school, before everything fell apart and he enlisted.
"Needed you?" Sean looked confused, then touched his bandaged head. "Right, sorry. Getting shot must have scrambled my memory. I got a call earlier - my father died. I'm named in the will."
"Who was your father?"
"Philmont D. Rockefeller."
"Oh, Rockefeller..." Saul's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait - ROCKEFELLER?!"
The car swerved violently as Saul's foot slipped on the pedal. Sean's face went white as they screeched to a halt at a red light.
"Jesus Christ, Saul!" Sean shouted. "I've already been shot once today!"
"Sorry, sorry!" Saul was sweating but still grinning. "But your father - a real Rockefeller?"
"My last name's Rockefeller. What else would he be?"
Saul blinked. "Oh... right."
Sean decided not to tell Saul the whole truth - that this wasn't just any Rockefeller, but one of *the* Rockefellers. The inheritance would be life-changing. But after nearly dying twice in twenty-four hours, Sean couldn't muster much excitement.
There's something sobering about staring death in the face.
Looking out the window, Sean felt a different emotion stirring: determination. He'd experienced poverty, helplessness, and now violence. Never again. With the Rockefeller resources, he could ensure no one would ever hold that kind of power over him again.
At home, exhausted from blood loss, Sean warmed up leftover pizza while Saul made calls. Tomorrow they'd drive to Westchester County for the funeral. Sean needed rest.
Lying in bed, his thoughts turned to the father he'd never met. As a child in private school, he'd both hated and longed for a father figure. Now he realized the school fees and comfortable lifestyle must have come from Philmont's child support. After his mother's overdose in his junior year, that support vanished. He'd dropped out, lived rough with Saul until Saul's brother got him into law school. Sean had chosen the military instead.
Tomorrow would change everything.
August 7, 1984. A beat-up yellow Suzuki bounced along the highway from New York to Westchester County.
"You're fucking rich!" Saul couldn't contain himself, slapping the steering wheel. "A real goddamn Rockefeller! Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Saul, I swear to God," Sean growled, gripping the door handle. "You've been shouting for an hour straight. Shut up and drive before you kill us both."
Saul's forehead gleamed with sweat, veins standing out on his neck as he babbled excitedly. Sean was definitely glad he hadn't revealed the full truth yesterday - Saul wouldn't have slept a wink.
"Just focus on the road," Sean pleaded. "I'd like to actually collect this inheritance instead of dying in a ditch."
"Of course, of course. I'm a great driver," Saul said, barely calming down. "But aren't you excited? It's the Rockefellers! The most powerful family in America!"
"Sure, I'm excited," Sean replied flatly, staring out the window.
"You don't look excited."
"Found out yesterday, got shot in the head, kind of takes the edge off the celebration."
"That's why you should have told me yesterday! Normal people would be—"
"I don't know!" Sean cut him off, holding his head. "Please, watch the road. Yes, I know how important the Rockefellers are. Can we just—"
Sean stopped mid-sentence as someone ahead waved them down.