Stepping out of City Hall, the sunlight was a bit blinding.
Leo and the community residents stood on the steps. No one spoke.
The residents, just monts ago filled with fighting spirit, now wore faces etched with disappointnt.
"I knew it. It’s useless trying to reason with that bunch in suits." Frank was the first to break the silence, his voice filled with anger. "They’re all in it together."
"So what do we do now? Are they really going to sell our center?" Rosa’s voice was on the verge of tears.
"That lawyer, Wexler, is too sharp," George sighed. "We were completely outmatched."
People began to murmur complaints.
"We never should have pinned our hopes on so kid."
"Yeah, what can he do besides talk a good ga?"
The whispers were just loud enough for Leo to hear.
He was overco by a deep sense of self-reproach and defeat.
For the first ti, he felt the cold, cruel reality of politics so viscerally.
Here, justice and morality were worthless.
He thought he could change things with nothing but his passion and knowledge of history.
But reality had just dealt him a resounding slap in the face.
Margaret walked over to Leo and patted his shoulder.
"Don’t take it to heart, kid," she said. "They’re just disappointed. It’s not about you. You did your best."
Leo said nothing.
He knew that "doing your best" was the most useless of excuses.
He had led these people who trusted him into a losing battle.
That night, Leo returned to his apartnt alone.
He threw himself onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling.
A sense of defeat washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him.
Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.
This ti, there was no encouragent in the voice, only sternness.
"Today, you made the kind of fatal mistake only a raw recruit makes on his first day on the battlefield!"
Roosevelt’s voice thundered in Leo’s consciousness.
"You treated the battlefield like a church and the hearing like a sermon! You tried to sway a pack of jackals who only understand self-interest with morality!"
Leo felt wronged and defiant.
"Aren’t we on the side of justice?" he retorted. "Everything we’re doing is to protect this community. How is that wrong?"
"Justice?" Roosevelt’s voice was laced with mockery. "At the poker table of power, justice is what the victor uses to write history! The loser’s only right is to be defined and forgotten."
"Did you think the law was your shield? You pray to it like it’s the Bible, hoping it will protect you. You’re wrong! Dead wrong!"
"The law is a weapon! It’s the iron bar you use to shatter your opponent’s kneecaps! You must understand the rules better than they do, be more adept at using them, and have the guts to operate on their very edge! Otherwise, the rules themselves will grind you to dust!"
The reprimand jolted Leo from his state of self-pity.
He sat up and turned on the light.
"Now, dry your tears and put away that cheap sense of defeat." Roosevelt’s tone beca calm again. "Let’s hold a debriefing."
"Go over every detail of today’s hearing in your mind. Like a movie, fra by fra."
Under Roosevelt’s guidance, Leo forced himself to calm down.
He closed his eyes and began to rember.
Every scene from the hearing surfaced clearly in his mind.
"Start from the beginning," Roosevelt said. "What was the first thing Wexler did when he walked in?"
"He stood up, smiled at us, and nodded," Leo replied.
"A demonstration of superiority," Roosevelt analyzed imdiately. "He was using his politeness and good manners to highlight your coarseness and amateurism. From a psychological standpoint, he wanted to fra you as a group of unruly intruders from the very start."
"What was his reason for interrupting your opening statent?"
"He said my statent was irrelevant to the matter at hand."
"A trap," Roosevelt said. "Through the chairman, he set the battlefield on terms most favorable to him. He succeeded in narrowing a public issue concerning the community’s survival into a dry debate on legal procedure. In that arena, he’s the expert, and you’re the novice."
"Think again. When he presented the mail receipt, what was Chairman Jennings’s expression?"
Leo tried hard to rember.
"He only glanced at it before imdiately accepting it as evidence."
"That proves they were in collusion from the start. That receipt was their first line of defense. No matter what you said, they were going to use it to shut you down."
And so, like a master strategist, Roosevelt guided Leo through a fra-by-fra analysis of Wexler’s every word and action, along with every micro-expression and exchanged glance among the city officials.
The more Leo analyzed, the more alard he beca.
He discovered that the seemingly unremarkable hearing was, in fact, filled with countless, ticulously designed traps and psychological gas.
And he, like a naive child, had walked right into it, completely defenseless.
The debriefing lasted for hours.
Leo’s brain was pushed to its limit. Just as he felt he couldn’t take any more, Roosevelt suddenly had him freeze on a particular image.
It was the mont at the end of the hearing when Chairman Jennings announced the final decision.
"Repeat his last sentence," Roosevelt commanded.
"He said... ’unless we can present decisive new evidence of a major flaw in the auction procedure,’" Leo recalled.
"That’s the one." Roosevelt’s voice held a trace of excitent. "Didn’t you notice? As he said it, he subconsciously glanced to his left. It was a micro-expression, a sign of a guilty conscience and self-preservation. He was leaving himself an out."
"Why would he need an out?" Leo asked, confused.
"Because he knows the entire process isn’t as airtight as Wexler made it seem. There must be a flaw sowhere, one they couldn’t completely conceal."
"That’s our opening."
At Roosevelt’s direction, Leo opened his computer again.
He pulled up the Pittsburgh City "Ordinance on the Disposal of Municipal Assets."
It was a docunt hundreds of pages long, filled with dry legal jargon.
"Don’t read the general provisions. Jump directly to the Chapter on ’Assets of a Special Nature,’" Roosevelt instructed.
Leo found the relevant Chapter.
"Now, read Article 11, Section B carefully."
Leo read the provision.
"For assets of non-profit organizations that provide ’community public services,’ City Hall must issue a public notice of disposal at least 60 days prior to a public auction. This notice must be published in no fewer than three local Pittsburgh public dia outlets."
’Three public dia outlets...’ Leo muttered.
At that mont, the first glimr of a counterattack pierced the darkness of the late-night apartnt.
He imdiately began a frantic search for verification.
He found the auction notice on the city governnt’s website. It had been posted 45 days ago, a clear violation of the 60-day requirent.
He then searched the archives of all the local newspapers.
He finally discovered that, apart from the city governnt’s official website, the notice had only been published once—in a small community paper with a circulation of less than a thousand.
It didn’t even co close to eting the "three public dia outlets" requirent.
It was a minor, yet fatal, procedural flaw.
"We found it!" Leo was so excited he nearly jumped out of his chair. "I’ll draft the docunt right now and submit it to the City Council’s oversight committee first thing in the morning!"
"No."
Roosevelt stopped him.
"It’s not ti yet."
"Why not?" Leo was baffled. "This is conclusive evidence!"
"A procedural flaw will, at most, buy you a week’s delay while they redo the public notice process." Roosevelt’s voice was calm. "We’re not looking for a delay."
"We are looking for total victory."
"Before the next hearing, we must prepare a ’gift’ for them—one that will finish them for good."
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