The world of American TV series: Starting with the L.A. Patrol.

Chapter 1237: A mere mouthpiece

Amid Bracken's screams, Frank looked at Jack in shock, "What are you doing?"

"I can't stand it anymore." Jack thought to himself, I don't owe anyone here anything, why should I suffer this kind of torture? This disgusting tone really made him feel sick.

"I mean why did you shoot him with my gun?" Frank said depressedly.

"Of course it's because both guns I have are recorded in the FBI system."

Jack pulled out his backup gun, the FK7.5, and waved it at him, deliberately showing him the caliber. "Besides, I just want him to shut up, not to kill him with one shot."

"Help!" Bracken wailed while lying on the ground, holding his thigh with a bloody hole in it. "You crazy people, you can't kill me. I'm a federal senator. Ah!!!"

His wails soon turned into heart-wrenching screams as Beckett stepped forward and stepped on his wound.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you talk to me like that? Because of your order, my mother was stabbed in the alley, thrown there like garbage, all alone, and slowly died in agony from blood loss.

My most respected teacher, Roy Montgomery, the mentor and friend who had always protected me secretly, the man who cared about me like a father, was shot several times and died in front of me.

And you actually dared to speak so arrogantly in front of me and give such a speech bragging about your "great achievements". What gave you such courage? "

"You have no evidence!" The senator, who was pinching his thigh hard to try to stop his bleeding, was now sweating profusely from the pain and his screams became hoarse.

“Even if you kill me, even if I die, I will still be a respected senator, and you will become a notorious female detective, and that is the fact in the public eye.

Lynching and killing people will not change anything. You were born in this country and you all know the rules of the game. We are born to be superior to others, and the right to speak will always be in the hands of people like me.

The media will dig up all of your past, analyze your tragic childhood experiences and conclude that you will become a psychopath who cannot get over the childhood trauma of your mother's death, is addicted to drugs, and has developed paranoia after joining the NYPD.

You took an innocent senator as a target of revenge and brutally killed him. Is this the justice you want to get? Hahaha, lunatic, you are all lunatics!"

These crazy words were like heavy hammers, hitting Beckett's heart like real bodies.

The female detective's face turned pale and she staggered back a few steps. She seemed to have been drained of all her strength and her shoulders slumped.

Tsk, no wonder this guy was chosen by the Democratic Party as a campaign aide for the next presidential election and became a candidate for vice president. His eloquence is really amazing.

I have to say that the performance just now can be included in the textbook on the application of desperate speech as a classic example, if such a textbook exists.

But it at least shows that Bracken is not so out of touch with reality. He did understand Beckett's character to a certain extent before.

Unfortunately, Beckett is not facing this guy alone at this moment. There are a group of old monsters around him who came from the Cold War and killed people without blinking an eye.

Jack walked up to the Rolls-Royce Phantom and took out two brown paper bags from the back seat.

If it's just a matter of talking, Cassel might still be able to fight here at this moment, but Beckett is far behind. After all, female detectives are good at solving cases, not televised debates during the presidential election.

Throwing two stuffed brown paper bags next to Bracken, Jack sneered and squatted in front of him, unbuckling the belt around his waist under the horrified gaze of the man.

After tying a knot in the belt to make a tourniquet, Jack thrust the longer end into Bracken's hands and let him pull on it himself.

"As expected, no one who can reach the pinnacle of power in this country is a fool. Unfortunately, Mr. Congressman, you guessed wrong."

In Bracken's horrified eyes, Jack patted his cheek contemptuously, "It is obvious that neither of your two collaborators - Alexander Denning nor Cynthia Wilkes - warned you."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Bracken was obviously a sensible man. Facing Jack who had just shot him directly, he dared not talk anymore.

"Guatemala." Jack smiled and patted one of the brown paper bags. "That was a real war crime—the massacre of civilians, an entire village of Indians, and this is not the 19th century.

Honestly, Mr. Congressman, I have never understood how someone like you can have blood on your hands and yet still have the audacity to portray yourself as a compassionate saint. "

Frank also came over at this time and raised his eyebrows slightly at Bracken. "After Alexander Denning picked you up by plane, he sent us to clean up the traces, so I was at the scene at that time."

Bracken finally figured out the whole story. He calmed himself down and forced a smile that was uglier than crying. "Everything has a solution, doesn't it? What do you want?"

Frank glanced at Beckett casually and said hesitantly, "Say sorry to the victim?"

"I'm sorry! I was wrong!" Bracken immediately backed down. After all, he was not really ready to die. The nonsense he said before might be useful to Beckett, but to a ruthless old agent like Frank, it was no different from a fart.

"I sent someone to kill your mother. I also hired the killers who followed, including the gunman who tried to kill you at the funeral. I ordered them to do all this. I plead guilty."

Beckett subconsciously took a few steps back, away from this humanoid creature that made her feel extremely disgusted.

Even though the real murderer of her mother had knelt in front of her and admitted everything, she did not feel the slightest pleasure of revenge or relief in her heart.

Today's female detective only hopes that a certain "troublemaker", a cynical playboy, a foul-mouthed narcissist, a childish boy who never grows up, can be by her side at this moment so that she can throw herself into his arms and have a good cry.

"He's yours." Beckett staggered to the side as if he had lost his strength.

Jack winked at Anna, asking her to help take care of it, then pretended to check the time and said to Frank, "It's almost time. I promised someone that I would take care of it this morning."