The Righteous "Green Tea" (Part 2 - continued)
ed building while they went out to play. Her fatal injuries—broken ribs piercing internal organs—meant she couldn't breathe, couldn't call for help. She died alone, in agony, trying to crawl toward the door of that filthy, abandoned building.
She was thirteen. They were thirteen.
And the judge said they had "bright futures ahead" and that there was "no subjective intent to cause death." They weren't even tried as adults.
The law protected the criminals and sacrificed my sister.
Tears fell into my coffee cup. I wiped my face. "Justice didn't protect me, and it didn't protect Ruth. I could only protect myself. I was thirteen. I had nothing but a few dozen dollars in my pocket and a desperate will to live. I went back to the people who beat me, and I waited. Waited until I could support myself."
"Maybe God took pity on me," I said. "Do you know—I started planning their downfall the moment I learned how Ruth died."
Captain Sharp's eyes locked onto mine, his dark gaze unblinking.
"You planned it for over a decade?"
"I only have one thing to say, and then I'm done." I made sure to look each of them in the eye. "That couple—they covered up my sister's death, destroyed the evidence, and perverted the course of justice for over a decade. They're criminals too. The only difference between them and me is that I'm the one sitting across from you."
I didn't need to say another word. The evidence spoke for itself.
The detective Du had focused on the four perpetrators—the same four who'd killed my sister. I'd handed over everything: the threatening calls from the Wu family that proved they were still actively concealing the crime, the social media posts that exposed their ongoing harassment of me, and, most critically, the location of my sister's remains.
She'd been buried in the foundation of a rural church—concealed so thoroughly that when the building was demolished years later, she was never found.
I'd dug her up myself.
I kept watch when the church was scheduled for demolition, waited for the cover of night, and went alone. I carefully extracted her remains—what was left of them—and moved her to a place where she could finally be found.
It took me another three years to orchestrate the downfall of each of the four perpetrators. One, I exposed for financial fraud—white-collar crime, but enough to destroy his career and freedom. The second, I reported for drug possession and distribution—a throwback to their teenage cruelty, now writ large. The third—the ringleader, the sadist who'd instigated Ruth's murder—I lured into a trap: I got close enough, gathered enough evidence, and presented it to Detective Du.
But the fourth, the mastermind behind my sister's death, was beyond my reach.
Because he was already dead.
Her—she was already dead too.
The two people who had adopted Ruth and then covered up her murder had both passed away years ago. One from illness, the other from a traffic accident.
I couldn't touch them.
But I could ensure that the living faced justice.
In the end, only one of the four perpetrators—the ringleader—faced the full weight of the law. The others received reduced sentences due to the passage of time and the statute of limitations.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
But it was something.
And as for me? I handed myself in, knowing full well what I'd done. I'd committed crimes in pursuit of justice—trespassing, evidence tampering, harassment. I was guilty, and I accepted whatever punishment came my way.
Captain Sharp walked me to the station door. The morning sun was blinding.
"You were telling the truth," he said. "About everything."
"Of course I was. I had nothing left to lose."
He studied me for a long moment, then said, "You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who thought the only way to get justice was to take it into her own hands."
"Did she succeed?"
"She's still paying the price," he said quietly. "But yes. In her own way, she did."
I stepped through the door and into the light.
The woman I'd been pretending to be—the one whose identity I'd borrowed—she was a real person, living a real life, unaware that someone had been shadowing her family for years. When the truth came out, she'd be shaken, maybe even traumatized.
I regretted that.
But I didn't regret anything else.
The law had failed my sister. The system had failed her. The people who were supposed to protect her had turned away, told her to apologize to her abusers, and then buried the truth when she died.
Someone had to hold them accountable.
And that someone was me.
---
The Best of Brothers (Part 1)
I never thought I'd end up defending the person accused of killing my oldest friend.
But that's exactly what happened.
I'll start from the beginning.
Derek Jiang and I grew up together—we were the kind of brothers who'd share a lunch, split a soda, and take the blame for each other's mistakes. When we were teenagers, his family moved away, and we drifted apart. Years later, I became a lawyer, and he became a contractor—a modest but honest living.
Then one day, I got a call from Derek's sister, Grace. She was sobbing so hard I could barely understand her.
"He's dead," she said. "Gary's dead, and Derek's been arrested for murder."
Gary was Derek's coworker—a fellow laborer at the construction site. According to the charges, Derek had attacked Gary from behind during an argument at work, striking him with a heavy wrench. Gary had died from blunt force trauma to the head.
Derek had confessed to the crime.
I took the case without hesitation.
Derek's wife—Mrs. Jiang—hired me. She was a cold, pragmatic woman who seemed more interested in minimizing financial liability than in proving her husband's innocence. She offered me a generous retainer, but refused to discuss the case in detail.
I didn't trust her.
The more I learned, the more the case didn't add up.
Derek had confessed, yes—but his confession was riddled with inconsistencies. The crime scene didn't match his story. And there were details that suggested someone else might have been involved.
Like the fact that Gary had been seeing someone—a woman who was also involved with one of the other workers at the site.
Or the fact that Derek and Gary had been partners in a side business selling health supplements—a business that had collapsed amid accusations of fraud.
Or the fact that Derek had taken out a large life insurance policy on Gary just months before his death.
Each new discovery pulled me deeper into a web of deceit, betrayal, and long-buried secrets.
And at the center of it all was Derek—my brother, my oldest friend—sitting in a jail cell, telling me he killed a man I didn't believe he was capable of killing.
---
The Best of Brothers (Part 2)
I told Grace that no one could put a price on another person's life, and that the eight hundred thousand they were offering wasn't blood money—it was the compensation they deserved.
Grace wiped her eyes and said she thought Mrs. Jiang was cold as a machine. Before I got involved, Mrs. Jiang had approached her several times, increasing the offer from three hundred thousand to five hundred thousand, all the while saying, "A death is an accident. This money is out of humanitarian concern"—utterly devoid of warmth.
Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat, though I couldn't quite catch the thought that flickered past.
When I parted ways with Grace, the young woman grabbed my arm and asked, "Did he really not want to kill my brother?"
I was struck by her persistence. "Why do you believe Derek had the intent to kill?"
Grace fidgeted. "I don't know... The day before my brother died, he mentioned something. He said, 'I think Derek has done that kind of work before.' My brother used to be in one of those health supplement pyramid schemes—not sure if it was a pyramid scheme, but he was selling some kind of health product... I just feel like they knew each other from way back. I don't know, something feels off."
"Have you mentioned this to the police?"
Grace shook her head. "No... I was scared. My brother got into trouble when he was doing that work. I was afraid the police would dig into it and make our family pay compensation..."
She seemed to realize this wasn't the most reliable information and quickly downplayed it. When I pressed, she clammed up completely.
The sudden mention of "health supplements" threw me. I couldn't tell if I'd found a key piece of evidence or a red herring.
When I received the settlement letter, I'd already met with Derek multiple times to discuss his defense. I felt confident that we'd built a solid foundation of communication. Now, abruptly, a new lead had surfaced—and what lay behind it was chilling:
If Derek and Gary had a prior connection stemming from that business, then his attack on Gary from behind might not have been a moment of passion. It could have been premeditated.
The case file contained no mention of "health products." If this lead reached the police and emerged as new evidence in court, I'd have no counter-strategy and would be caught completely off guard.
After much deliberation, I decided to meet with Derek one more time.
During the visit, I probed carefully, asking if he'd been involved in any other business ventures.
Derek looked confused but answered honestly. "I used to sell health supplements."
"And that's where you met Gary?"
"No," Derek denied quickly. "By the time I met Gary, I'd already switched careers."
"Gary seemed to think otherwise."
Derek's face remained impassive. He considered this, then said, "He might have been mixed up with that crowd. We never talked about it. Why?"
I didn't press further. But this discrepancy—a small thing, easily overlooked—sat in the back of my mind like a splinter.
---
After obtaining the settlement letter, I saw Mrs. Jiang again.
She was as composed as ever. A woman in her late thirties with delicate features, dressed impeccably, posture perfect—beautiful in the way of a woman who knows her worth and wields it like a weapon.
Mrs. Jiang directly asked if I knew anything about the inherited property.
"I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "The estate is probably substantial."
"What I mean is, can we get a payout? I don't want to wait."
"As far as I know, the case still needs to go through sentencing and appeals. It's a drawn-out process."
Mrs. Jiang was unmoved. "You don't need to concern yourself with that. Just help me get the money."
I looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time.
This was a woman who had lost her husband, yet I'd never seen her shed a single tear. She'd attended the mediation session with the demeanor of a CEO at a board meeting—cold, efficient, objective.
"Mrs. Jiang," I said slowly, "I have to ask. How did you feel about Derek's relationship with Gary?"
She didn't blink. "They were colleagues."
"Colleagues who shared a business venture don't always stay close."
"Derek kept to himself. He didn't have many friends."
"But he and Gary were close enough to start a business together."
"That was Gary's doing. He could talk anyone into anything."
A perfectly reasonable answer. But it made me uneasy.
---
Grace called me early the next morning.
"I've been thinking," she said. "About what you asked—about whether Derek wanted to kill my brother. I think I finally understand."
"I'm listening."
"The last time my brother saw Derek, they had a fight. Not a screaming match—just Derek suddenly going cold. My brother came home rattled. He said Derek asked him for money. When my brother said he didn't have any, Derek said, 'Then you're no use to me.' And he walked away."
"That was it?"
"That was it. But my brother couldn't stop thinking about it. He kept saying, 'Why would Derek ask ME for money? He knows I don't have any.'"
I thanked Grace and hung up, staring at the phone.
A man who'd never asked anyone for money in his life suddenly demanding cash from a former friend who he knew was broke—that didn't add up.
Unless Derek was desperate.
Unless someone else was pulling the strings.
---
The case proceeded to trial. Derek maintained his confession. The prosecution had a solid case—motive, means, opportunity, and a signed confession. The defense had... questions. Hunches. A growing conviction that the truth was more complicated than anyone wanted to admit.
I visited Derek one last time before the verdict.
He looked thinner, older. Jail had stripped away the easy warmth I'd always associated with him.
"Derek," I said. "I need you to tell me the truth. Did you kill Gary?"
He looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that wasn't resignation or guilt.
It was fear.
"Yes," he said. "I killed him."
The jury found Derek guilty. He was sentenced to twenty years.
Mrs. Jiang collected the insurance money and the settlement. She sold the house, closed out Derek's accounts, and moved away without leaving a forwarding address.
I never saw her again.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd missed something—something important, something that Derek was still hiding behind those flat, empty eyes.
Years later, long after the case was closed, I received a letter. No return address, no signature. Just six words in Derek's handwriting:
"You were right. I didn't."
I never found out who really killed Gary.