Chapter 4

The officer's hand stiffened for a moment, and he glanced at me, slightly surprised. "Of course. We'll conduct the inspection according to procedure as well."

My bail pending trial was set at 300 thousand dollars. My bank account only had enough money to pay my employees for half a month. I couldn't even scrape together the remaining amount.

Consequently, all I could do was wait for the test results while staying in the detention center.

…

The following 19 days felt like 19 years.

My cellmate came across the news about me and learned that I was the "unscrupulous businessman who sold endangered fish". One night, while I was asleep, he punched me twice and kicked me so hard that my ribs ached for an entire week. I spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed.

Every now and then, the guard would bring word from outside. People were splashing paint at my shopfront every single day. My landlord wanted to terminate the lease and withheld the 30 grand security deposit.

All of the advance bookings for the summer were canceled, and I had to compensate the guests with three times the breach-of-contract penalty. My suppliers were camping outside my house, demanding payment.

I asked the guard to pass a message to Grace. "Sell the equipment in the shop, and withdraw the 100 thousand dollars we've set aside for the down payment on the school district house from our investment account. Pay our employees' wages and settle our suppliers' debts first."

Grace and I had built our business from the ground up. We started with a roadside stall selling five-dollar grilled squid skewers and eventually worked our way up to this two-story grilled fish restaurant. In just a few days, we lost all of our savings and assets that we had built up over the last ten years.

When she came to visit me, she held the phone to her ear on the other side of the glass. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts. "Peter, I'm reaching my limit! Flora's being called the daughter of a criminal by the other kids at kindergarten. My mom was hospitalized with high blood pressure from how furious she was, and the debt collectors are outside our door every day."

My heart felt as though someone had ripped a chunk of meat out of it. It hurt so badly that I could hardly breathe.

My hand, which was holding the phone, shook like a leaf. Looking Grace in the eye, I couldn't bring myself to comfort her.

When the iron door of the detention center slammed shut, I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. For the very first time, I couldn't hold it in anymore; I broke down and burst into tears.

…

The day the inspection results were out, the heavy iron door clanked open.

The officer, who was in charge of the case, handed me a test report stamped bearing an official red seal at the police station. I froze before opening it with trembling hands.

"Upon identification, the submitted fish sample is identified as a farm-raised hybrid sturgeon." When I read those words, I burst into laughter.

"The issue has been resolved. If there are no further issues, you may leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." My voice was as rough as sandpaper. "I spent 19 days behind bars. Millions of people called me an unscrupulous business owner, my business was forced to shut down, and my family was nearly ruined. Do you think I'll settle with a simple 'the issue has been resolved'?"

The officer frowned. "The case has already been dropped. What else are you unsatisfied with?"

"I want a written statement. I want it in black and white with an official seal that states why I, Peter Rockwell, was detained for 19 days, what the final test results were, and how this case was handled!"

The police officer was taken aback by my outburst. Likely afraid that I would cause a scene and ruin the station's image, he printed out another statement and stamped it with a bold, crimson seal. "Is that good enough? Now, get going!"

I picked up that sheet of paper and read it thrice. It clearly stated, "Peter Rockwell was detained for 19 days under suspicion of selling wild Cerulean sturgeon. Upon identification by a third-party organization, the fish involved in the case was confirmed to be a legally farm-raised hybrid sturgeon. It was not an endangered fish. The case was dismissed, and he was released."

I carefully put the statement away and found Officer Miller. "Previously, you believed that blogger when he said I was selling wild Cerulean sturgeon, didn't you? Now, I'm holding you accountable for the losses incurred over these 19 days—my shop's rent, compensation for canceled reservations, my employees' wages, the damage to my decade-old business's reputation, the emotional distress suffered by my wife and me, my daughter's psychological counseling expenses, my mother-in-law's medical bills, and the damage to my reputation from being attacked online by millions of people."

I pulled out my phone. The screen displayed a string of numbers that read two million dollars.

"In short, you owe me two million dollars."

Officer Miller knitted his brows. "What would you like us to do, then?"

Looking into his eyes, I responded, "I want to file a police report and press charges against Brandon for defamation and fraud!"