Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

In the press conference hall of Pittsburgh City Hall, the spotlights in front of the blue backdrop were a bit blinding.

The shutter clicks from the reporters’ cameras below the stage became a continuous roar. The intersecting flashes of white light made the air on the stage feel scorching.

Leo Wallace stood behind the lectern.

He was slightly bowing his head, his hands braced on either side of the lectern, his expression weary.

It was a posture Leo had deliberately adopted, making him look like a victim who, despite being bullied by the State Government, was still holding fast to his post.

"Mr. Mayor! Governor Campbell accused you at his press conference of being the mastermind behind the Harrisburg riots. What is your response?"

"There are reports that the flags carried by the demonstrators who stormed the Parliament Building were shipped directly from Pittsburgh. Is this true?"

"The Governor says you’re hijacking Pennsylvania with mob politics. Are you prepared to resign in disgrace?"

The questions were a cacophony of noise. Leo raised his head. He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting his bloodshot eyes sweep slowly across the room.

The uproar in the hall gradually subsided under his silent gaze.

He unscrewed the bottle of mineral water beside him and took a sip, moistening his hoarse throat.

"I am very perplexed by Governor Campbell’s statements."

Leo spoke.

"These accusations are absurd—preposterously imaginative, even."

He said mockingly, "Among the citizens gathered in Harrisburg, it is true that many of them are from Pittsburgh."

"But they went there because they were disappointed by the Governor’s heartless veto of the healthcare bill. That is their legal right as citizens of the United States, their last cry for the sake of their pills and surgery fees."

Leo took a step closer to the camera.

"If I’m being accused of instigating a riot simply because someone held up my name during a protest, or wore a T-shirt with my face on it, then tomorrow, if some random person robs a bank or sets an ambulance on fire while holding a ’Long Live Campbell’ sign, can I also claim that the Governor was the one who planned it all from behind the scenes?"

A low ripple of laughter spread through the audience.

"We live in a nation of laws, Mr. Governor."

Leo looked into the camera lens, as if speaking directly to Campbell.

"To accuse a mayor elected by three hundred thousand citizens requires legal evidence. It requires concrete testimony."

"Not the paranoid fantasies you cook up in your office, nor the blame you’re trying to shift to cover up your own administrative incompetence."

"If you can find a single photograph of me at the scene of the riot, or one mobilization order signed by me, I will resign tomorrow. But if you can’t, I suggest you focus your energy on solving Pennsylvania’s public safety problems instead of playing these clumsy political games."

After delivering his remarks and taking the routine questions from reporters, Leo walked out of the press conference hall.

The motion-activated lights in the hallway lit up one by one as he walked.

Ethan Hawke hurried to keep up behind him. Leo didn’t slow down, and his footsteps echoed coldly in the empty corridor.

Leo walked into his office and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sat back down behind his desk, ripped off his tie, and the aggrieved look in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a ruthlessness so intense it could freeze the air.

"A brilliant performance," Ethan said, handing him a glass of water. "I bet Campbell is smashing things in a rage right now."

"But that doesn’t change anything," Leo said, taking the glass and downing it in one go. "The Establishment Faction has already decided to sacrifice us. They won’t change their minds because of one press conference."

"You’re right." Ethan turned on the wall-mounted television and switched to the C-SPAN channel.

A live Senate debate was on the screen. The topic was the "Critical Infrastructure and Healthcare Personnel Safety Protection Act."

It was a bill tailor-made to protect insurance companies and prevent people like Luigi from ever appearing again.

The enraged healthcare insurance giants had mobilized all their resources and were pushing the bill through at an unstoppable pace.

"Sanders did his best," Ethan said, pointing to the screen. "He launched three procedural motions to try and delay the vote, but the Majority Leader rejected them all."

"Even though this bill won’t apply to Luigi’s trial, it means we’ve lost the first round on the healthcare insurance front."

Leo rubbed his temples and asked Ethan to leave, giving him some private space.

His mind was running in overdrive. He knew in his heart that he was running out of time.

In Harrisburg, Campbell had personally killed the healthcare bill.

In Philadelphia, Aston Monroe was preparing to climb to power over Campbell’s political corpse.

In Washington, the Senate was in the final sprint to pass that damned "Critical Infrastructure and Healthcare Personnel Safety Protection Act."

And in a Philadelphia courtroom, Luigi Randall’s trial had reached a fever pitch.

Leo mentally calculated the dates, and his heart sank. ’Time is too tight.’

’I have to finish all my preparations before the bill passes. I have to speed up.’

Just as he was about to make a call to arrange the next steps, his phone rang first.

A call from Washington.

’Who could it be?’

Leo frowned and answered the phone. "This is Wallace."

A man’s voice with a Southern accent came from the other end of the line, his tone unhurried, even friendly. "Mr. Wallace, hello. This is Richard Taylor, Chief Operating Officer of the Republican National Committee."