Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1451 - 689: You Really Have a Problem with This?

Under the personal supervision of Casare, xico City's propaganda machine was launched with unprecedented enthusiasm and strength.

In the first few days of July 1995, almost all of xico's mainstream newspapers, TV stations, and radio stations were filled with praises for the powerful families in Texas who had "abandoned the dark and embraced the light."

The headline on the front page of Supre News read: "A Historical Choice: Tribute to Texas's True Patriots and Peace Ambassadors—the Brelock Family."

The article lavishly extolled Old Elton's "profound righteousness" and Cole Brelock's "foresight," portraying Marcus's suicide as "the tragic end of an old era, yet bringing the dawn of peace that spared countless Texas families from the ravages of war," with words full of gratitude and reverence.

On TV, pri-ti news docuntaries used stirring music and carefully edited footage to review the Texas conflict, with a deep voice narrating:

"When the clouds of war were hovering over Texas, who resolutely chose the path of peace? Who, despite bearing temporary misunderstandings, opened the door of life and prosperity for the Texas people? It was the Brelock family! It was the Garrett family! It was the Johnson family! They are the conscience of Texas, xico's sincerest friends!"

The radio comntators lavishly praised: "These families shine with the radiant humanity that transcends nations and borders. Their choice is a deeper love for the land and people beneath their feet. It's a kind of love that requires imnse courage, and the people of xico will forever rember their contribution!"

This overwhelming, nearly sycophantic praise was transmitted back to Texas, the United States, and the world through the airwaves and newspapers.

On July 8, 1995, a long red carpet was laid at xico City's Benito Juarez International Airport.

The airport was heavily guarded, yet the atmosphere was intentionally made to be warm and grand.

The President of xico, Anatoly Lunacharsky, a national leader who usually made only symbolic appearances, was present on the tarmac under Victor's directive.

The reporters were already well-prepared with their caras and equipnt.

When a Boeing 727 aircraft, painted with Brelock family's private emblem, taxied slowly and ca to a stop, the cabin door opened, and the first person to step out was Cole Brelock.

He wore a dark suit of the finest tailoring, with a carefully practiced smile on his face.

He walked quickly down the steps, President Lunacharsky ca forward to greet him, and the two shared a warm handshake in front of countless flashing caras.

Mr. President bead with a sincere smile, delivering his welco speech in accented English.

Cole bowed slightly, appearing humble and honored.

Behind him, other core mbers of the Brelock family, his wife, several uncles, and important executives of the family's enterprises, descended the plane in order. Each was dressed impeccably, striving to maintain composure and dignity in front of the caras, yet more or less showing a hint of unease and complexity in their eyes.

The scene was broadcast live across xico.

In a common apartnt in the West District of xico City, the Camarena family sat around an old-fashioned CRT television.

The evening news was broadcasting the grand welco ceremony at the airport.

"Look, that's Cole Brelock."

Father Eduardo pointed at the screen, "They say their family ranch in Texas is larger than all of xico City."

21-year-old Ricardo chomped on corn chips, bursting into laughter: "Dad, look at the way he bends over to shake hands. Doesn't he look like a dog trying to please its master? Only missing the wagging tail."

The living room suddenly fell silent.

Grandfather Alfonso slowly opened his long-narrowed eyes.

"A dog?"

The old man chuckled softly, "What you see is just a performance, and performances are always ant for outsiders."

"In 1945, I witnessed a real surrender ceremony in Berlin. Those German generals signed the docunts with straight backs, every word seeming to carve a scar deep in their hearts. You know? Even a defeated general maintains dignity, but these people..." He nodded towards the television screen, "have actively chosen to beco puppets."

Mother Sofia frowned: "But Dad, haven't they prevented further bloodshed?"

"Bloodshed?"

"Sotis, the deepest wounds are invisible. Rember what Marlon Brando said in The Godfather? 'A man has but one destiny.' These families have chosen their fate, but the cost is to live forever in the scorn of their own people."

Ricardo ceased his laughter: "Grandpa, are you saying they shouldn't have chosen peace?"

"No, child."

Alfonso stared at Cole Brelock's smile on the TV screen, "What I'm saying is that true choices are never black and white. These people are enjoying red carpets and headline news now, but history will rember every expression they make today, just like that line in Lawrence of Arabia, 'It's painful to be captured while wounded, but becoming a traitor to one's own is an eternal pain.'"

The old man stood up, patted his grandson's shoulder, "Rember, Ricardo, when you see soone on television looking like a dog, it may not be because they're begging with tail wagging, but because they've already worn a collar, and the other end of that collar is always held by soone stronger."

Ricardo no longer laughed, realizing for the first ti that the images on the TV weren't just news, but a ticulously staged tragedy, where each role's destiny was already invisibly ordained.

In the manor at Houston, Old Elton Brelock sat alone watching the images of his youngest son shaking hands with the President of xico, and he abruptly turned off the TV, plunging the living room into silence.