41-45

Chapter 41: Hatred is as deep as sea

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At the Los Angeles cemetery, near the side of the University of California.

Hawk, with makeup on, stood by the railing, looking at the eerie tombstones. If he had jumped off the building in Provo, he might not have even had a tombstone.

Most likely, his heart, lungs, and kidneys would have been harvested, turning him into a piece of rotting flesh.

A chubby figure appeared.

Hawk waved at him.

Cole, feeling helpless, walked over reluctantly and said, “I did everything you asked. Now give me back my stuff.”

Hawk reminded him, “We agreed on ten days. Not even half of that has passed yet.”

Cole, in a heavy tone, asked, “Did you cause Deborah to want to divorce Downey?”

“It wasn’t me,” Hawk gazed towards the University of California. “It was us, together.”

Cole thought about how he was the one who provided Deborah’s whereabouts, and his face nearly crumbled. “You said it was just for the news…”

Hawk replied, “How do you report the news without making some? Don’t I need to stir up a bit of news?”

He patted Cole’s sturdy shoulder. “Relax, this bit of news is nothing. There’s going to be even more explosive stuff later.”

Cole was on the verge of tears. “That’s not what you said before. I want out, I’m done.”

“You sure?” Hawk, worried that this guy didn’t understand the situation, got straight to the point: “What do you think Downey will do if he finds out what you’ve done? He might just fire you out of respect for your friendship. But what about Deborah? Does she like you? Will she call the police and have you thrown in jail? From what I know, with your financial situation, without Downey’s support, you couldn’t even afford a lawyer.”

These companions mostly depended on celebrities to survive; they didn’t have any real earning potential.

Cole was also worried, “You’re pushing this too far. Even if I stay, I won’t be doing well.”

“With money, you’ll be fine,” Hawk said, tempting Cole with something that wasn’t his. “What if you get a lot of money all at once? How much does Downey give you? Selling a little thing here and there won’t make you rich, will it? And Downey’s collection is more than just a few things, right?”

Cole, a gambler, fell silent instantly.

Hawk didn’t rush him, letting the guy think it over.

After a long pause, Cole said, “If I take too much, they’ll notice.”

Noticing wasn’t the problem; the problem was that he was considering it. Hawk whispered, “Deborah’s moved out of Brentwood. If Downey can’t manage the house anymore, who knows it better than anyone?”

“Me!” Cole answered immediately.

Hawk said, “Think about it. Do you have a better opportunity to make a fortune? When it’s time, who can find you if you leave Los Angeles? Head south, and in three hours at most, you’ll be in Tijuana, with no border checks.”

Cole’s hands began to tremble.

The human mind is unpredictable, especially when corrupted by gambling and drugs. Boundaries almost vanish, and with just a little nudge, reason becomes irrelevant.

The two talked for a long time.

Hawk explained everything, over and over.

As the sky darkened, Cole left first. Hawk drove his Chevrolet to Santa Monica.

After changing back into his regular clothes, he returned to the West Coast studio.

Edward brought dinner back.

The two ate while they talked.

Edward gnawed on a piece of roasted meat and said, “Jacqueline took the money, she won’t talk.”

He pointed at a pile of maternity gear. “What should we do with this stuff?”

Hawk said, “Take it with you; it might come in handy later.”

Edward shook his head, “How would I need it? That stuff’s for women! Boss, you’re not going to make me pretend to be a woman, are you? Look at me—dark hair, dark face, dark skin—I wouldn’t even look like a woman!”

Hawk ignored the nonsense and said, “Drink less tonight and get some rest. If nothing unexpected happens, there’ll be big news tomorrow.”

Edward, still confused, cautiously asked, “Boss, what kind of big news exactly?”

Hawk roughly replied, “The kind that might send someone to jail for a few years.”

Edward got excited, “Jail’s perfect. For someone like Downey, if he ends up in a regular ward, he’ll have three square meals a day.”

Hawk remembered a contact from a former prison mate. Once someone’s in jail, he could arrange for something special—a “black cannon squid” dish!

Although Hawk originally wanted Downey to jump off a building and become a “live squid,” he wasn’t rigid; one ingredient can be prepared in many ways.

After dinner, Hawk pondered for a long time. No matter how well you plan these things, unexpected events might still occur. Sometimes, you need to improvise.

Edward asked, “Boss, what should I do tomorrow?”

Hawk said, “Find a public phone far away from any surveillance and wait for my call.”

………

In Brentwood, at Downey’s mansion.

Robert Downey Jr. didn’t need anyone to persuade him; by dinner, he had downed drink after drink, quickly getting himself wasted.

Deborah had already moved out, leaving only two people in the house.

Cole helped Downey to bed, making sure he was asleep before shutting the bedroom door, turning off the security system, and rummaging through other rooms.

As one of Downey’s two close companions, he knew Downey far better than Deborah ever did.

Cole found Downey’s stash, dumped most of it into the toilet, and flushed it all away, leaving just one small bag.

After that, he went to Downey’s collection room.

Displayed there was a British Academy Award trophy, along with a few other smaller awards.

But Cole wasn’t interested in those; his gaze landed on the glass cabinets.

Robert Downey Jr. loved collecting luxury watches, and these cabinets were filled with expensive Swiss watches.

Cole’s eyes turned red. These were worth hundreds of thousands.

He walked over, standing in front of the glass cabinets. The fragile boundary of his morality, already shaken by circumstances, completely collapsed.

“They’re mine! All mine!” Cole’s greed drove him to make a decision. He went to another room, opened the gun cabinet, and selected a lightweight Glock 26.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to pull the trigger himself.

Cole sat down, his not-so-bright mind wandering, thinking that having a gun might work in his favor.

The next morning, Robert Downey Jr. woke up from his hangover and received a call from his lawyer.

Deborah’s lawyer had officially sent a letter, seeking a divorce and making some outrageous demands for the division of assets.

“That bitch is insane!” Downey threw his phone at the TV, the crash sounding throughout the room. “She wants to take everything from me!”

The rift between husband and wife had turned into a deep hatred.

Downey smashed things in a frenzy. If it weren’t for the damage alcohol had done to his body, the living room would have been trashed.

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, Cole dialed a number, “Deborah’s lawyer has sent the letter. He’s going crazy.”

“Proceed,” the person on the other end said. “Remember what I told you yesterday?”

With money on the line, Cole’s memory was suddenly sharp. “I remember.”

Take as much as you can and then run to Mexico. He had been there before and remembered the way.

Downey’s voice echoed from inside, “Cole! Cole! Where’s my stuff? Where’s my stuff?”

Cole pocketed his phone and ran back in, asking, “Is it all gone?”

Downey, frantic and craving his fix, rummaged through everything, “It’s gone, all gone! Who did this?”

Cole said, “Deborah, it must have been Deborah…”

“That bitch!” Downey felt even worse. “I’m going to kill her, kill her!”

Cole ran outside and dug through his bag, pulling out a plastic bag and handing it to Downey, “This is mine, but you can have it for now.”

Downey quickly got busy with it.

Cole waited patiently.

After a long while, Downey calmed down, even laughing, and threw an arm around Cole’s shoulders. “Who needs a wife? When it really matters, it’s brothers like you who I can count on. You’re my real support.”

But Cole’s heart had changed: Brothers? Support? Why do you make so much money but won’t share more with us? That little bit of salary—like you’re tossing scraps to beggars?

When one person thinks poorly of another, all they see are their flaws.

Downey chuckled. "Go get me some goods."

Cole’s mind flashed to the people he’d met at the cemetery, the words they’d said. He suggested, "Better stock up while you can. Deborah’s going to divorce you and try to grab your assets. She’ll definitely use this against you. We should gather as much as we can before she catches on so you don’t get hit where it hurts."

In his current state, Robert Downey Jr.’s brain wasn’t exactly full of sh*t, but it was close enough.

He chuckled. "You’re the only one sticking with me now. Go make the call."

Cole went out to make the call and quickly got someone on the line. "We need a large quantity over here. Don’t rush to doubt or refuse. To prove our sincerity, Downey will personally come over to handle the deal."

The person on the other end agreed. Cole returned to the room and told Downey, "The amount we need is huge, and the LAPD’s been setting up stings lately. They want you to go in person."

Downey was still flying high, his mind barely processing. "Let’s go together."

Cole went to get the car. As he picked a vehicle, he remembered what that person had warned him about. He specifically chose the Cadillac registered under Downey’s name, and before leaving, he grabbed the gun.

Chapter 42: More than a dozen eyes

Santa Monica, Third Street Promenade Parking Lot. A black Mondeo was parked not far from the west entrance. Hawk picked up his Midnight Entertainment freelance reporter badge, hung it around his neck, and checked his handheld camera one last time.

Once he confirmed the equipment was working properly, he waited patiently.

A few minutes later, a call came through on his backup phone. Cole’s voice came through the receiver: “You there? Please hold on, we’ll be there for the deal in just five minutes, tops. My car is a champagne-colored Cadillac.”

Hawk played along, posing as another group: “The risk is too high right now. You’re asking for too much. LAPD and the DEA have been setting traps all over. I need to see Downey. Have him come alone to make the deal with us.”

In the moving Cadillac, the heavyset Cole looked over at Downey with frustration: “These guys are too rude, no respect for the rules…”

Downey overheard the phone conversation. All he cared about was the goods. He didn’t care about anything else. He waved his hand dismissively: “No big deal. It’s not like I haven’t done this myself before.”

Cole spoke into the phone again: “No problem.”

After he hung up, Downey rummaged through the black bag in the armrest compartment. High from his last hit, he wasn’t the least bit reluctant, in fact, he was thrilled. Holding the bag of cash, he said, “Isn’t this exciting? I’m definitely going to play a role like this someday. It’s like I’m getting real-life experience!”

They arrived at the parking lot. Cole turned the wheel, guiding the Cadillac into the lot.

After waiting a bit, Hawk drove in as well. He had scouted the area earlier and chose a parallel road, not too close and not too far from the Cadillac, following it carefully.

When the Cadillac pulled into a parking spot, Hawk observed it briefly, then found a suitable place to park his car.

He lowered his window slightly and focused his camera on the front side of the lot.

In the Cadillac, Robert Downey Jr. opened the passenger door, ready to get out. But Cole stopped him: “They specifically asked for you to go alone. I’m worried they might try something.”

“They want the money,” Downey said, unconcerned. “Don’t forget who I am. I’m Robert Downey Jr., for crying out loud. Do you think they’d dare mess with me?”

Cole, the perfect chauffeur, wearing white gloves, took a Glock 26 out of the door compartment and handed it to Downey: “Take this, just in case.”

Downey grabbed it and casually stuffed it into his trench coat pocket, then got out and headed toward an SUV across the lot.

Because he had just snorted some, his steps were a bit unsteady.

The man with sunglasses who got out of the SUV, a Latino, relaxed when he saw Downey. He muttered in surprise, “Why’s this guy making the deal himself?”

But since Downey had already arrived, he couldn’t refuse such a big transaction.

Hawk's camera followed Downey closely, capturing everything.

Downey handed the bag to the Latino, who opened it, randomly picked out some of the contents, and held it up to the light for inspection. Satisfied, he pulled another bag from the SUV and handed it to Downey.

Downey opened the bag, checked the quantity, picked out some, sniffed it, and nodded.

The Latino said, “Call if you need more.”

Downey waved, staggering back to his car.

The Latino spit on the ground, muttering under his breath: “These junkies. What makes them deserve such a good life?”

“Get in, let’s go.” The driver, another Latino, called from the front seat. “It’s our turn to enjoy life now.”

In the Cadillac, Cole was visibly disappointed. Downey returned safely, with no incidents. The dealers didn’t even check if he was armed.

Downey got back into the passenger seat, tossing the black bag onto the armrest. “Let’s go home and get high together!”

Cole licked his lips, deciding to follow the plan: “Don’t you want to try the new stuff first?”

Downey looked even happier than when he got his $10 million paycheck. “Great idea.”

Cole prepped a bit for him.

Downey invited, “Join me.”

Cole, eager to get paid, resisted the temptation. “I still have to drive you.”

Downey nodded, saying no more.

Cole purposely waited a bit before driving off.

On the other side, Hawk's camera zoomed in on the Cadillac’s rear license plate.

In the footage, the star was none other than Robert Downey Jr.

Even when capturing what actually happened, a skilled filmmaker could easily control the narrative.

This was nothing compared to the media. After all, every frame and every line on the news is carefully crafted with an agenda from the start.

Suddenly, loud banging noises came from the Cadillac as Robert Downey Jr. acted like a wild animal, banging his head against the seat headrest.

He flailed his arms, yelling: “Deborah, you b*tch! I’m gonna kill you! I swear I’m gonna kill you!”

Cole quickly tried to calm him down: “Don’t worry, she won’t get your money. We’ll find a way to deal with her.”

Tears suddenly streamed down Downey’s face. One moment he was crying, the next, laughing like a madman.

But he kept repeating: “I’m gonna kill that btch! I’m gonna kill that btch!”

Cole started the car and drove out of the lot, heading east along Santa Monica Boulevard.

Hawk turned off his camera, which was mounted on a makeshift rig in the passenger seat. He started driving after them.

After exiting the parking lot, he pulled out his phone and dialed Edward’s number: “Call the cops now. Champagne-colored Cadillac, the license plate number is…”

After the call, Hawk drove for a bit longer. He changed the camera battery and resumed filming the Cadillac.

On the side of Santa Monica Boulevard, at an inconspicuous public phone booth, Edward pocketed his cell phone and picked up the payphone, dialing 911. Speaking in a strained voice, he said: “I need to report a car carrying a large amount of drugs. The driver’s high and under the influence. The location is Santa Monica Boulevard…”

Once the operator processed the call, Edward hung up and quickly left the area.

The dispatch center followed procedure, running the license plate. They found the car registered to Robert Downey Jr., who had been previously arrested for drug possession. They immediately notified nearby patrol officers.

Two LAPD patrol cars rushed over to search for the vehicle.

The Cadillac had already parked near a McDonald’s. Cole unbuckled his seatbelt and told Downey: “I’m gonna grab your favorite burger. Wait here, it might take a while.”

Robert Downey Jr. nodded indifferently, completely high. All he could see were dozens of Deboras, swarming to claim his fortune.

He kept muttering: “I’m gonna kill that btch. I’m gonna kill that btch…”

Cole ran into the McDonald’s through the front door and slipped out the back, hopping into a car he had prepped beforehand. He was headed back to Brentwood to cash in and disappear.

Hawk parked about ten meters behind the Cadillac, picked up his camera, and continued filming.

Flashing police lights appeared as an LAPD patrol car pulled up in front of the Mondeo. A male and female officer got out one after the other.

The brown-haired male officer led the way, approaching the driver’s side of the Cadillac.

The tall, young female officer followed slightly behind, stepping onto the sidewalk and heading toward the passenger side.

Hawk quickly got out of his car, camera in hand, following them from a distance.

The male officer passed the rear of the Cadillac, one hand resting on his holster, the other brushing against the taillight. He called out loudly: “LAPD! Step out of the car for inspection.”

Only then did he realize the driver’s seat was empty, and in the passenger seat, a middle-aged man was banging his head against the headrest, muttering something.

A black bag sat on the armrest, white powder spilled around it.

Situations like this weren’t uncommon. It was clear that the guy was a high and dangerous drug user. The male officer immediately drew his gun and shouted: “LAPD! Temporary inspection! Sir, show me your hands! Get out of the car now! Step out of the car and comply!”

The female officer was equally cautious. She drew her black Glock and held it at her side, safety off, her sharp eyes fixed on the passenger door.

Downey heard the shouting. The last sliver of his sanity made him raise his hands, push open the passenger door, and stagger out of the car.

The female officer issued a warning: “LAPD! Hands in the air! Lean against the car!”

To Downey, her clear voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. As he looked up, he saw Deborah standing there with a gun.

High out of his mind, with his brain scrambled, Downey’s final shred of rationality disappeared.

The words he had been repeating grew louder. He yelled at the female officer: “I’m gonna kill you, you btch! I’m gonna kill you, you btch…”

His swaying body caused his short coat to swing, and the heaviest side pocket bumped into his hand.

The strange sensation from the collision made the crazed Downey reach into his pocket and pull out a Glock 26, while still shouting, "I'm going to kill you, you b****!"

"Drop the gun!" the female officer warned, aiming her Glock at Downey, finger on the trigger.

"I'm going to kill you, you b****!" The drugged-up man had no sense of reason left, and he raised his gun.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots echoed in rapid succession.

The female officer, well-trained, squeezed the trigger and emptied her magazine.

Downey, filled with holes, collapsed to the ground with a thud.

Chapter 43: Nut

Hawk hid behind a thick streetlight pole, just five meters from the scene. He extended the camera lens and recorded the entire process.

He was a bit surprised; something had clearly gone wrong. Downey was actually pointing a gun at the LAPD. The plan had taken an unexpected turn.

Despite his shock, Hawk felt a certain satisfaction. Downey, being a good guy with too many good intentions, wanted him to jump off a building. So, good-hearted Downey had overdone his kindness.

Although the expected "Black Cannon shoots the squid" and "Puff squid" scenarios didn’t happen, he did get "Peanuts stir-fried with squid." Things were becoming complicated.

Still, Hawk wasn’t panicked. Before entering Los Angeles, he had already planned escape routes. He was always prepared for the worst. This time, he made plenty of preparations, even disguising himself and taking a trip to Tijuana.

Hawk’s hands were steady as ever, and his mind quickly considered his options while continuing to film the unfolding scene.

A male officer rushed over from the other side, asking the female officer about her condition before immediately reporting to the command center: “Gunfight at the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and 20th Street. Suspect is down with gunshot wounds. Requesting backup! Requesting medical assistance!”

The female officer remained relatively calm, without panicking. Although she recognized who Downey was, she didn’t dare risk her life. Fame was someone else’s concern; her life was her own, and she only had one. The suspect had already aimed his gun at her face—there was no way she would gamble.

The body on the ground was twitching, clearly not going to make it. Both officers holstered their guns.

Onlookers began gathering from afar—people watching a commotion are the same everywhere in the world.

Hawk walked closer with his camera, zooming in on Downey’s chest, where he had “grown an extra few hearts,” and his bloodstained face, capturing several close-ups. He then moved the camera to the open passenger door, filming the scene inside. He zoomed in on the black bag in the center console and the spilled powder.

The male officer noticed him. Hawk raised his press badge and identified himself: “Fox News reporter!” Then, he added, “This scumbag attacked officers with a gun—I saw it. I can testify for you.”

Upon hearing “Fox” and Hawk’s statement, the male officer warned, “Do not approach the scene.”

Hawk kept his distance, standing a few meters away, still filming. In the distance, police lights flashed, and a large number of LAPD patrol cars arrived. LAPD, Los Angeles' largest armed force, was notorious for protecting its own.

This wasn’t yet the magical time when a Black leader would voluntarily expose the list of LAPD undercover agents.

Hawk glanced at the male officer again. This sort of incident was a headache for the LAPD too, but LAPD’s stance was predictable, as obvious as a footstep. Not just LAPD—any police force across the U.S. would protect its own. Unless faced with their financial backers or bosses, but Downey wasn’t one of them.

Hawk had carefully reviewed Downey’s background. Since 1996, Downey had been arrested three times by the LAPD and spent three years in jail. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say there was bad blood between them.

There were plenty of people in Hollywood who acted wilder than Downey. This was why Hawk dared to have Edward call the cops. The LAPD had obviously targeted Downey before.

Hawk was certain it wasn’t time to flee just yet. The problem was likely with Cole. In fact, when he contacted Cole, he was in full disguise, altering his accent and posture, and using a burner phone.

Every traceable element pointed to Anthony Murphy. Now that Downey was dead, the risk had increased. Hawk knew what he had to do. He turned off the camera and pulled out a business card with only his name and phone number, handing it to the male officer: “I recorded the whole thing. You guys handled it well. If any media trouble arises, give me a call.”

The officer accepted the card and politely said, “Thank you.”

Hawk picked up his camera and headed towards the car. A Dodge Durango pulled up beside him, and a long-haired man stepped out. The man immediately spotted Hawk and his press badge, surprised, “Man, you got here fast!”

Hawk kept walking and casually replied, “Got lucky. Right place, right time.”

The man followed, “Daniel Richard, fellow reporter. What did you capture? Can we share some?”

Hawk gestured toward the scene, “If you hurry, you can still catch some of the action.”

Daniel stopped, watching as Hawk got into his car and shook his head before rushing over to film the scene. He knew very well that the most valuable footage had already been captured by that damn colleague.

Hawk started the car, turned west, pulled out a backup phone, and dialed a number. Using an East Coast accent, he asked, “Where are you?”

Cole answered, “I’m in Brentwood. I’m grabbing something and then heading to Mexico, as you said.”

Excitedly, Cole shouted, “I’m going to rob Downey! I’m gonna be rich!”

From Los Angeles to Tijuana, Mexico, if you drive fast, you can get there in just over two hours.

Hawk turned onto the coastal road, removed the SIM card from his spare phone, cut it up, and then dismantled the phone into pieces, scattering them into the ocean along the way.

He pulled out another spare phone and called Edward.

After Edward called the cops, he was already waiting in Brentwood in a rental car.

...

Brentwood, Downey’s mansion.

Cole used an electronic key to unlock the door, entered the house, and went straight to the collection room. He grabbed the bag he had prepared the day before and packed up all the luxury watches. He then went through the other rooms, finding plenty of cash and jewelry.

The hefty haul kept a smile plastered on his face.

After quickly finishing the job, Cole got in a car and headed straight for San Diego.

He knew this time he would ruin Downey worse than ever before. This time, after leaving the U.S., he would never come back.

Edward, a skilled driver, followed him the entire way.

Cole crossed the U.S.-Mexico border and entered Tijuana.

There was no check at the border, and Edward followed him in, all the way to a motel.

Using some cash, he got Cole’s room number and called Hawk.

Hawk had already copied the video and made several backups.

When he received the call, he told Edward to fall back: “Smash the phone and SIM card I gave you and toss them in Mexico.”

Hawk found a deserted payphone and dialed the number he got in Tijuana, switching to a cheesy Hollywood accent: “It’s me, Phil Delnor, the one who paid you upfront a few days ago. The target is now in Tijuana.”

He gave the corresponding address and added, “He’s carrying at least six figures’ worth of valuables.”

The guy on the other end laughed: “Man, keep bringing me good business like this.”

Hawk quickly left the neighborhood, deep in thought.

With Cole gone, there wasn’t much risk left on Jacqueline’s side. A fake pregnant woman stirring up some drama for the celebrity wife—just another fake news story.

...

Tijuana, in a motel. Someone knocked on the door of Cole’s ground-floor room.

Cole cracked open the door to see a beautiful Mexican woman standing there.

The woman smiled sweetly and said in broken English, “Sir, need any service? Just $50.”

Cole sized her up—pretty face, sexy body, looked a lot like Hollywood actress Jessica Alba.

The woman leaned slightly forward, her chest bouncing.

Cole opened the door wide.

From either side of the door, four Mexican men stormed in.

Before long, they dragged out a large suitcase and Cole’s bag.

In a city like Tijuana, people disappear every day, and the chances of being found are slim to none.

...

Sherman Oaks, in a standalone house.

Deborah received a call—Downey had been shot dead by the LAPD for attacking an officer with a gun.

Her face changed dramatically. She rushed to the bar in the living room, grabbed a bottle of champagne, and poured herself a full glass.

She took one big gulp and felt a surge of pleasure.

It was unbelievably satisfying.

A couple turned enemies, hatred as deep as the ocean.

Deborah no longer had to fight for the estate, saving a ton of lawyer fees.

How many women had every Hollywood star messed around with? Ten, twenty was considered few. Downey had at least dozens, and whether or not he had illegitimate kids, there was no longer any possibility of them coming for the inheritance.

It was fantastic.

Deborah had the urge to set off fireworks, but on second thought, she decided she should put on a deeply sorrowful expression.

There was plenty of time for fireworks after she inherited the estate.

...

As night fell, a Mondeo pulled up in Century City. Hawk took out his daily-use Nokia and checked it—no missed calls.

He dialed Channel 11’s Claire directly, getting straight to the point: “This is Hawk Osmond, the guy who provided the news about Gandalf’s hit job.”

Claire, who deals with tons of reporters every day, immediately recalled the story and asked, “Got a big scoop?”

Hawk quickly replied, “Here’s a freebie: not long ago, Robert Downey Jr. was shot dead by the LAPD at the intersection of Santa Monica Blvd and 20th Street.”

Claire, who works in entertainment news, responded, “I got word on that. Anything else?”

Hawk calmly said, “I recorded the whole thing—video footage.”

“You recorded it?” Claire almost shouted, taking several deep breaths before seriously asking, “Mr. Hawk Osmond, are you sure you got the whole event on video?”

Hawk’s tone was deadly serious: “The footage is right here on my laptop.”

Claire didn’t hesitate: “Where are you? I’ll send a car to pick you up right away. Before you hear our formal offer, please don’t speak to any other media outlets. We offer the best prices in the industry.”

Hawk replied, “No need. I’ll drive over myself.”

They hung up, and Claire immediately left her desk, knocking on the producer’s office door and closing it behind her. She told Megan, “Hawk Osmond, the freelance journalist who gave us the ‘Lord of the Rings’ crew scoop, just called. He says he filmed the entire LAPD shooting of Robert Downey Jr.”

Megan shot up from her seat: “Where is he? I need to see him right away.”

News about Robert Downey Jr. while he was alive wasn’t necessarily that big, but a Hollywood star killed in a shootout? That’s a whole different story.

Claire said, “He’s on his way here now.”

Megan instructed, “Wait for him at the front of the building. This isn’t just entertainment news—it’s a major social story. We can’t let it slip away.”

Every gossip journalist has dreams of breaking into mainstream news.

“I’m on it,” Claire said, turning to leave.

Megan picked up her phone and dialed a number: “How much of this month’s budget do we have left? What? Not enough? Apply for more immediately—use the emergency news fund. I’ll handle anyone who gives you trouble!”

Once they got that exclusive footage, it didn’t matter who reported it first. All eyes would be on Channel 11’s Midnight Entertainment.

Chapter 44: Engaging in people, making trouble, and making money

Fox Tower, Fox Television Center.

Hawk entered the reception room and noticed Megan, a tall woman with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, waiting for him. Megan smiled and asked, "Did you bring the video?"

Without wasting words, Hawk placed his laptop on the table. Claire, who was with him, quickly connected the power adapter. Hawk turned on the laptop and opened the video of the shooting.

Megan crossed her arms, and her chest visibly swelled from the pressure of her clothing. The video played, showing the rear of a Cadillac, with the camera following the vehicle closely. As the car stopped, the shot remained fixed on the Cadillac until the sound of sirens broke the silence. The camera then panned up, revealing two LAPD officers approaching the car from behind.

Robert Downey Jr. stepped out of the car, pulling a gun on a female officer, but she reacted faster, emptying her magazine. The camera shifted, zooming in on Downey, showing his chest riddled with bullets, his bloodied face, and the pool of blood spreading beneath him.

At this point, Megan's breath quickened, an inexplicable excitement taking hold as every cell in her brain seemed to leap into action. This sensational news had struck a chord with her: "We can connect this story to other LAPD cases of violent enforcement and create a media frenzy..."

Sensing the potential danger, Hawk intervened, "If you're going to report it from that angle, I'll take the video back."

Megan blocked his way, "Is there more?"

Hawk clicked on another video, "Watch this before deciding how to frame the report."

The next clip showed a drug deal between Downey and a dealer in a parking lot. Megan immediately changed her tone, "Robert Downey Jr. involved in drug trafficking, carrying a stash, and attacking an officer after overdosing."

Hawk relaxed, "Let's ruin Downey's reputation and have the mainstream media condemn him."

Megan's mind was racing. "We can tie this to Downey’s past drug-related cases, as well as other Hollywood drug scandals. This highlights the widespread issue of drug abuse in Hollywood and the negative influence celebrities have on society."

Hawk delivered the final blow, "Don’t forget Downey’s family history with drugs. Dig deep into why Downey got involved and the messes he made while using."

Megan jotted this down, knowing the story's immense value. She made an offer right away: "Fifty thousand dollars for the two videos and the exclusive story."

Hawk had done his homework. "Two months ago, a video of LAPD shooting an unarmed Black man sold for $8,000 on Channel 9, and that wasn’t even a high-profile case."

He tapped the edge of his laptop. "Now, we're talking about an Oscar-nominated actor, a BAFTA winner, caught in the act of drug smuggling, engaging in an armed confrontation with LAPD officers, and nearly killing a female cop. The value is at least ten times that."

Hawk emphasized, "And it was a female officer."

Megan's thoughts aligned with Hawk's. "Yes, the female officer angle is a great angle for the story."

As a true media professional, Megan quickly pivoted from her earlier stance. "We'll portray the female officer as brave and fearless. Women can do everything men can. We’ll involve the Los Angeles Women’s Organization, have them visit the heroic female officer, and film the whole thing. This is a great opportunity to push the women’s rights agenda."

At this point, she knew she had to secure the videos.

Megan wasn’t one to hesitate. Her vision was broad, and she immediately upped the offer: "One hundred thousand dollars is my best offer. I can't go any higher."

"Deal, $100,000, but your reporting angle must be written into the transfer agreement," Hawk agreed quickly. "And I’ll throw in a suggestion."

He added swiftly, "With Downey’s personality, he’s definitely made enemies in Hollywood. Why not get some of them involved in the coverage? People love to kick someone when they’re down, and it makes for great TV."

"Dig deeper into Downey's scandals and make sure he's remembered for his disgrace," Megan said, for the first time truly taking notice of Hawk.

After briefly sizing him up—tall, muscular, but otherwise unremarkable—she extended her hand. "Megan Taylor."

Hawk shook her hand again, "Hawk Osmon."

Megan wrote down a number on a slip of paper and handed it to Hawk. "Here's my phone number. Call me if you have more major news—only the big stories."

Hawk pocketed the number, "Will do."

Megan then instructed Claire, "Apply for a Channel 11 correspondent badge for Hawk in my name, now."

Claire made the call.

"Thanks," Hawk said politely.

Megan was curious about how Hawk had gotten the footage but didn’t ask any questions. She only cared about the explosive story, not how it was obtained.

An assistant came to copy the videos, but Hawk did it himself, not trusting anyone else with his laptop.

After a few minutes, the process was complete. Hawk walked away with a $100,000 check and a Channel 11 correspondent badge.

Meanwhile, Megan was already starting a production meeting in her office.

Once the two videos finished playing, she set the tone decisively: "The bias in the footage is clear. Let’s frame the show around that narrative. I want everyone to dig up as much dirt on Robert Downey Jr. as possible. He’s not going to fade away quietly. I need his death to boost our ratings."

Megan continued to methodically plan the coverage, while Hawk left Fox Tower and drove back to his studio.

As he thought about the LAPD situation, his phone rang.

Hawk answered, recognizing the voice, "Hello, Mr. Osmon, this is Officer Julian from LAPD West Division. We met this afternoon. You gave me your card."

Hawk was prepared. "Yes, we met on Santa Monica Boulevard."

Julian continued, "We have a few questions regarding this afternoon's incident."

Hawk tested the waters, "You can come to my studio. It’s at 13 Fountain Street, East Hollywood."

Julian hesitated for a moment but then agreed. "We’re on our way."

Sensing the risk was low, Hawk replied, "I’ll cancel my next appointment and wait for you."

He packed up his gear, locked his car, and entered his studio.

After tidying the room, he pulled out his Glock and hid it within easy reach, while gathering his cash into a bag.

After some time, there was a knock at the door. Checking the surveillance cameras first, Hawk saw three people outside.

Leading the group was Officer Julian, wearing his uniform. Behind him was an older man, a captain, and a female sergeant.

Across the street, Frank, sitting atop his RV, sipped a beer and frowned as he watched the scene unfold.

"Already getting shut down? That kid's way too reckless," Frank muttered.

Inside the studio, Hawk invited the officers to sit down. Julian introduced everyone, naming the captain as Edmund and the sergeant as Suzy.

Edmund got straight to the point, "I hear you’re a reporter."

"Yes," Hawk replied, showing them the Channel 11 badge he had just received.

Edmund noticed the Fox Television logo. "You left Officer Julian your contact information on your own initiative?"

Hawk nodded. "Yes, I’m a journalist, and I’m sensitive to public opinion. The man who died was a celebrity. Julian and his partner might face public backlash, but I witnessed the whole incident and saw that they were not at fault. My professional ethics and sense of justice wouldn’t let me stand by while the situation spiraled out of control."

Suzy chimed in, "That’s why we’re here. We're concerned about the same thing."

Edmund asked, "Can we see the video?"

Hawk turned his laptop towards them, showing the footage.

The three officers' reactions revealed that the LAPD was very much aligned with Hawk’s expectations.

Edmund studied the video intently. The biggest challenge was the fact that Downey was a celebrity. If it had been an ordinary person, even with media coverage, the LAPD wouldn't have faced much trouble. At most, they might have temporarily suspended the female officer.

Now, Downey’s father and others were causing trouble for the LAPD, while Downey's wife, Deborah, was indifferent.

These individuals weren’t LAPD donors and even had a history of conflict with the department, which had targeted Downey multiple times, resulting in him spending nearly three years in jail.

After the fourth incident, Downey had met his end.

LAPD headquarters at Parker Center had a clear stance: they needed concrete evidence to nail down Downey’s actions and officially close the case.

Chapter 45: Death and Reputation

After the video finished playing, Edmond, Susie, and Julian subtly breathed a sigh of relief.

The first two were from headquarters at Park Center, and Susie, whose job was media relations, knew full well the situation could spark a massive media storm. The press had been closely watching the LAPD. However, these two videos were enough to make the storm disappear and pin Robert Downey Jr. down for good!

Additionally, she noticed that the angles of the footage were particularly clever. Not only did they capture the entire shooting incident, but they also focused squarely on Robert Downey Jr. Watching the video, you couldn't help but feel that Downey deserved it.

The same incident, shot from different angles by different cameramen, can leave viewers with entirely different impressions.

Susie leaned close to Edmond's ear and whispered a few words. Edmond's attitude noticeably shifted. He smiled at Hawk and asked, "Can we get a copy of the video?"

Susie immediately pulled a portable storage drive from her bag. "I'll make a copy for you," Hawk replied, taking the drive.

After the video was copied, Edmond still had a few doubts, so he asked directly, "You've been following Downey?"

"I’ve been tailing him for a few days." Hawk opened a folder on his laptop and began clicking through photos and videos. "Here he is at Tracy’s gym a few days ago. This is him at the Wing Chun dojo on Victory Street. And here he is at the Viper Bar..."

Edmond asked again, "Why were you following him?"

"This is my job," Hawk explained, digging out a recent issue of The Enquirer and placing it on the low table. He pointed to the front-page headline, "I took this picture, but please keep it confidential. I don’t want to cause trouble."

He added, "Oh, and about today's video, please don’t reveal the source."

Susie jumped in, "We're LAPD. We understand the laws around journalism. We won’t leak where the video came from."

Hawk, feeling reassured of the LAPD's stance, said, "I've only been in Los Angeles for less than a month. A lot of times, I feel like a headless chicken. I finally caught a headline, so I dug deeper, thinking I’d get even more news. I’ve seen the reports about Downey over the past few years. A guy like him, not getting into scandals is as impossible as people not eating or drinking. I always figured this junkie would self-destruct."

Thinking about all of Downey's dirty laundry over the years, Edmond nodded slowly. Then he suddenly locked eyes with Hawk and asked, "Were you the one who called the cops?"

"Call the cops? I’ve never called the police," Hawk said, surprised.

With over a decade of policing experience, Edmond felt the guy in front of him wasn’t lying. Hawk, confident, because he really hadn’t called the police, just nodded.

Edmond asked, "There was more than just Downey in the car, right?"

Hawk replied, "Yeah, Downey had a driver, but the driver never got out of the car, so I didn’t get any shots of him." He spread his hands, "Even if he did get out, I wouldn’t have filmed him. A driver has no news value. I wouldn’t waste a second of footage on him."

Edmond acknowledged this point. Seeing that he had no more questions, Susie jumped in with the key one: "Did you give the video to Fox?"

Hawk said, "I gave exclusive rights to Channel 11's Midnight Entertainment. We’ve already signed a deal."

He knew why they were asking, so he added, "During the negotiation, I made it very clear about the angle and stance of the report. I required them to stick to the facts. The show’s team promised this and put it in the agreement."

Susie probed, "Can I see the agreement?"

Hawk pulled it out. "Please, no photos."

Susie quickly skimmed through it. It was as he said. "Thank you," she said.

Hawk’s involvement made the LAPD’s job much simpler. The once complex situation was now much clearer.

Edmond made his farewell. Before they left, Susie handed Hawk her business card and asked for his contact info. "If we need anything later..."

Hawk smiled, "You can call me anytime."

The three LAPD officers got into their car. Susie asked, "Inspector, about this situation?"

Edmond softly replied, "The higher-ups are very clear: Downey attacked the police with a gun. He got what he deserved."

They had taken Downey down three times in the past few years. This fourth time would completely ruin him.

Susie nodded, took off her hat to reveal her brown hair in a bun, and said, "Take me to the Fox Television Center."

Julian immediately started driving toward Century City.

Susie found the contact information for Midnight Entertainment and quickly got in touch with Megan Taylor. The two met at the Fox Television Center, hitting it off right away.

Midnight Entertainment's tone and stance were entirely against Downey, and they planned to dig up even more dirt on him.

Susie would act as the liaison between both sides, providing the show with firsthand information on Downey’s previous arrests. The LAPD would also cooperate with the show, allowing them and a Los Angeles women’s organization to commend the female officer involved in the incident.

Both sides had a shared interest.

---

Meanwhile, just after Hawk had seen the LAPD off, someone knocked on his door again. He opened it to find Frank, who showed up uninvited. Looking around in surprise, Frank said, "You didn’t get taken in?"

Hawk closed the door, "The LAPD came for help, not to cause trouble. No drama for you to enjoy."

Frank, not the least bit shy, opened the fridge and grabbed two beers, tossing one to Hawk. "You guys in this line of work, I know all about it. For so-called press freedom, you'll do anything. Plenty of you end up in jail."

Hawk cracked open his beer, took a sip, and sat on the couch. "On the contrary, I understand the law best. That’s why the LAPD asked for my help, and I helped them."

Frank sat on the other side, sounding like an old man. "You did the right thing. Don’t mess with them. On some level, pissing off one LAPD officer is like pissing off the entire LAPD."

He warned, "In this town, the LAPD is the biggest gang. Even the FBI gives them respect. In your line of work, you’re bound to cross paths with the LAPD."

Hawk took it in, "I’m just a small-time guy trying to make a living in LA. Of course, I won’t mess with them."

Curious, he asked, "You claim you were a big shot in Hollywood. Let me ask you, why did Downey get arrested three times by the LAPD a few years back?"

Frank replied nonchalantly, "Simple. Downey crossed one of the LAPD’s big backers. Otherwise, with all the drug use in Hollywood, why target him? It’s probably some scandalous stuff. So, buddy, don’t mess with the big shots. Hollywood stars are just playthings for them."

Hawk understood. "I’m not stupid."

Frank, sounding almost poetic, said, "Lonely me, finally made a new friend, and I don’t want to attend his funeral or visit him in jail one day."

Hawk flipped him off for the pretentious line.

After finishing his beer, Frank got up to leave. "Alright, I’m off. Going home to sleep. Maybe I’ll dream about my ex-wife, the star."

Hawk, fed up with this pretentious guy, imitated Edward’s tone and said, "In that dream, it’ll probably be your ex-wife and her boy toy, cozying up under your wedding photo."

Frank was so mad he couldn’t sleep half the night.

Around 11 p.m., Hawk turned on the TV and switched to Channel 11. Midnight Entertainment aired right on time.

Tonight’s episode had only one topic: Robert Downey Jr. was suspected of drug possession, trafficking, and dealing, as well as attacking police officers, and was shot dead in the street.

The two videos Hawk shot aired, sealing Downey’s fate in the eyes of the public.

Previously, media outlets that expressed sympathy or questioned the LAPD quickly changed their tune, with mainstream outlets unanimously condemning Downey.

The next day, countless scandals about Downey surfaced, including dirt on his father. The Los Angeles women’s organization stepped forward, claiming Downey deliberately targeted women and repeatedly threatened to kill "her."

Some women were even mobilized to protest in front of Downey’s father’s house.

Even some Hollywood insiders jumped on the bandwagon, sharing stories that painted Downey in a negative light.

The narrative was completely controlled.

In death, the once-famous star was nailed to the pillar of shame.

When you're alive, there are always PR strategies or redemption arcs.

But when you die so disgracefully, everything ends.

No matter how much his father protested, he couldn’t stir up much trouble.

He’s even caught the attention of the LAPD. For a veteran drug addict like him, it's too easy to expose his weaknesses.

Downey's death has left him utterly disgraced!

'Midnight Entertainment' used this as an opportunity, producing several episodes about Downey.

Not only did they expose Robert Downey Jr. thoroughly, but they also teamed up with the LAPD to launch a publicity campaign. Even that female officer became a star cop."