Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

"So he picked up a gun."

"He and I... we were really only a single step apart."

A hint of sorrow crept into Leo’s eyes.

"I chose to pick up a ballot, to try and build a road through the quagmire. He chose to pick up a gun and blast the quagmire dry."

"Leo," Ethan said, "empathy won’t save us."

"No matter how deserving of sympathy he is, he killed someone. That’s a fact."

"If you choose to cover for him out of sympathy, you’ll be dragging Pittsburgh’s future down with him."

"Is it worth it?"

Leo closed his eyes.

’Is it worth it?’

It was a question a politician was always calculating, but could never truly solve.

Ethan looked at Leo’s face, hidden in shadow. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.

He knew that in the face of such a question, any rational political analysis seemed pale and insignificant.

This was a question about the weight of a soul.

"You should go."

Leo spoke, his voice hoarse.

"Let me be alone for a while."

Ethan stood his ground, watching Leo.

"Boss," Ethan’s voice was low. "We don’t have much time."

"I know," Leo said without looking up.

"Every minute we delay, the risk of a leak increases. Once the media finds out Luigi is in your custody, we’ll lose all initiative."

"I know."

"Leo, you need to make a choice." There was a hint of pleading in Ethan’s voice. "I know it’s hard, but it’s your duty. You’re the Mayor. You can’t let your emotions rule you."

"Get out, Ethan."

Ethan opened his mouth, but finally sighed, turned, and left the room, pulling the door gently shut behind him.

Now, only two people remained in the room.

Leo, and the ghost that lived in his mind.

"Leo."

Franklin Roosevelt’s voice broke the silence.

"I know what you’re leaning toward in your heart, but before you make that decision, answer a question for me."

"Do you believe in the laws of the United States?"

Leo froze for a moment.

He hadn’t expected Roosevelt to ask such a metaphysical question at this critical juncture.

"The law?"

Leo stood up and walked to the window.

"Mr. President, are you joking with me?"

"In the past two years, I’ve seen more than enough of ’the law’."

"I’ve seen how the law becomes a rich man’s condom. When they need to rape public opinion, they put it on. When they’re finished, they throw it away and still claim they were compliant with the rules."

Leo turned around, spreading his hands to the empty air.

"In this country, there is no justice in the law."

"There is only the will of the classes."

"It’s a fence the rich use to protect their property, and a high wall the poor can never climb."

"And now you ask if I believe in the law? No, I don’t. I only believe in the chips I hold in my hand."

Roosevelt wasn’t angered by Leo’s radicalism.

He simply listened quietly.

"You’re right, Leo."

Roosevelt’s voice was steady and powerful.

"Much of the time, the law is indeed a tool of the ruling class, a weapon for those with vested interests to maintain order."

"But you’ve only seen the law’s ceiling. You’ve ignored its floor."

"The law isn’t just a tool; it’s also the baseline of the social contract."

"Baseline?" Leo shot back. "Where’s the baseline for the patients whose claims are denied?"

"The baseline is that it prevents the world from becoming a complete jungle."

Roosevelt’s voice grew stern.

"Leo, have you considered this?"

"If today we allow Luigi to commit murder because ’I feel that CEO deserved to die,’ if we applaud such an act, or even use public authority to protect him..."

"Then what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, the KKK can go out and murder people because ’I feel Black people deserve to die.’"

"And the day after, the capitalists you’ve stripped of their assets can hire hitmen to kill you, for the reason that ’I feel you’ve harmed my interests.’"

"Once vigilantism is legitimized and the power to mete out violent judgment is handed down to individuals..."

"...the first to suffer will always be the weak, not the strong."

"Because the strong have more guns, more money, and more killers."

"The law, though imperfect and at times even unjust, at least provides a set of rules. Without those rules, Pittsburgh would become a true hell."

"But, Mr. President."

Leo pointed at Luigi’s file on the desk.

"That CEO made tens of millions of US Dollars every year off a denial-of-claims algorithm he intentionally designed. Every percentage point of his profit growth was built on the backs of countless ruined families."

"He was killing people too. He just used a pen instead of a gun."

"Luigi killed him. It was against the law, but in terms of the outcome, he may have saved more people. He might even force those greedy insurance companies to change their policies out of fear."

Leo’s eyes grew fanatical.

"Isn’t our ultimate goal the pursuit of the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people?"

"In this healthcare system, that CEO and the insurance company he represented created suffering for tens of thousands of families, all for the profit of a few shareholders."

"Their happiness was built on the suffering of countless patients."

"That state of affairs is profoundly immoral, because the total amount of happiness is massively suppressed."

"But Luigi, through one extreme act of violence, brought immense suffering to that CEO and his family—but he broke the stalemate."

"If, because of his single gunshot, insurance companies are forced to change their claim policies... if, because of his sacrifice, thousands upon thousands of patients can get the life-saving money they need and live..."