Ward 404.

Herman Vied poured himself a cup of coffee.

While sipping his coffee, he watched the news; this shooting was definitely a big deal, and he needed to think it over.

"Hey, sweetheart, let me in... Sweetie, come on let me in..." the phone rang with a video call.

Herman Vied liked this ringtone and pressed the answer button, "Hey, Benson."

"Herman, I'm so glad you could take the video call personally. I heard you were injured yesterday and it gave me a shock."

Herman laughed, "Sorry to give you a false alarm; you can't inherit my CD collection just yet."

"Haha... Hearing you joke like this reassures me.

I was planning to visit you, but they were also going..." Benson shifted the camera to show the people behind him,

"I didn't want to disturb your recovery, so I went for a video call instead."

The crowd behind Benson enthusiastically waved hello.

An Asian man asked with concern, "Herman, I heard you were injured, is it serious?"

A black man chuckled, "We were discussing how you got hurt, can you tell us?"

Another white man joked, "Buddy, turn your ass this way, let's see how bad it is?"

Herman Vied shook his head, "You bunch must've placed bets on me. I got a shoulder injury, don't speculate, and don't imagine things."

"Haha..." The group burst into laughter.

Herman said wryly, "Benson, you were right not to bring them along."

Benson shouted at the people behind him, "Guys, quiet down, Herman needs to rest." After saying this and showing a look of concern, Benson asked, "How bad is the injury? Is it serious?"

"I've got a gunshot wound in my shoulder, but luckily the bullet didn't stay in the body, so I consider myself fortunate."

Benson pressed, "How did you get injured, can you tell us about it?"

Herman gave it some thought, "The situation was complicated at the time. I saw the gunman was shooting at a classmate, so I went over to help him, drawing the gunman's attention.

The shooter turned around and shot me; I even felt like I could see the bullet coming at me; I thought I was a goner and almost didn't get to see you annoying guys again."

Benson laughed, "The most annoying one is you, God wouldn't take you."

Herman showed a sorrowful expression, "But Lev Kaufte wasn't so lucky."

Benson sighed, "That's true, I heard about it too, he was shot dead.

Such a shame, he was a great football player. Were you there when it happened?"

Herman sighed, "Yes, I saw the shooter chasing him, I tried to distract the shooter but... I still couldn't save him."

Benson probed, "You were injured trying to save Lev Kaufte?"

"Talking about it now is meaningless." Herman dodged the question and changed the subject, "Lev didn't deserve to die like that, I can't forget what happened..."

Benson said, "You're right, Lev was one of the best running backs I've ever seen, and we'll miss him.

He will always be part of the school.

We want to hold a memorial event for him. Actually, it's not just for him; Josie Alisa, Chad Clays, and Barbara Danbur are all part of this school and should be remembered."

Herman replied, "You're doing the right thing, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Of course, you went through this tragedy, no one has more right to speak out than you." Benson said, then pointed to a black girl next to him,

"Tina has suggested a 'class strike,' and as a victim of the incident, we'd like to hear your thoughts."

The black girl Tina said, "That's right Herman, you should stand up, you have the right."

Herman nodded, "I absolutely agree, it was because of the negligence of the authorities, the FBI, and the LAPD that such a severe shooting happened.

They recklessly spend the taxpayers' money, but cannot ensure the safety of the taxpayers' children, they should be condemned.

I will stand up; I'm willing to represent other victims, to represent those who have passed, and to seek justice."

"Knock Knock..."

At that moment, a knocking sounded from outside.

"Hey, buddy, it might be the doctor coming to change the bandages, let's talk later." Herman ended the call.

"Come in."

"Creak..." The door opened.

Luke, Little Black, and Holip walked into the ward.

"Detective Chief Luke.

Holip! What brings you here? I was just about to visit you."

Holip said, "Detective Chief Luke mentioned our statements don't match up and wanted me to discuss it with you."

"Uh..." Herman Vied patted his forehead, "Is that necessary?"

"With the on-site surveillance being out, we need to reconstruct the case through witness testimonies, it's necessary." Luke shifted his tone, "Herman, please describe the incident again."

"Does Holip need to be here for this?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I was just wondering if this complied with regulations."

"We've already given one statement, the evidence has been collected, now we are double-checking to avoid false testimony."

Upon hearing the word "perjury," Herman's expression turned stern; the penalty for perjury in Los Angeles was not light.

"Ah, I was scared out of my wits at the time; I might not have expressed myself clearly."

"That's why I want you to describe it again."

"Uh..." Herman looked at Holip, hesitated—he was a towering 195CM tall and built like a bull, remembering his crashes and charges on the playing field, Herman couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart.

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