Society began digging into the truth of the incident from years ago. The chainsaw killer's methods were indeed horrifying, but what this group of Texas militiamen did was even more shocking.
They drove cars, carried guns, trapped an entire family inside their house and killed them. After the murders, they acted like nothing happened—drinking while setting the place on fire.
This was supposed to be a civilized society? Even Wild West cowboys two hundred years ago weren't this crazy!
Texas's xenophobia naturally became the perfect explanation for the whole affair. The entire nation condemned the state, believing they'd lowered the country's standards of law and order. The Texas government was ruthless in response: Keep talking and we'll secede!
Secession talk was just a bargaining chip—actual independence was impossible. Domestic capitalists wanted to sell their products in Texas. The black president wanted to garner sympathy and more votes. Democrats wanted to pull the state into their camp.
Republicans prepared to defend Texas to the death out of self-interest, but they also hoped the state would change its usual attitude a bit. Stop being so antagonistic. You can think everyone else is stupid—just keep it to yourself instead of saying it out loud!
The trial process went fairly smoothly. The evidence was solid, the facts clear. Apart from the defendants' refusal to plead guilty, there were no complications.
The defendants were typical Texans, stiff-necked and defiant. Not accepting it. Never accepting it. Just not accepting it! You got the guts to shoot me dead?
The trial itself had no issues, but when it came to compensation, Bella and Heather were dumbfounded.
The airline and Stark Industries that Bella had previously sued were wealthy and willing to follow legal regulations. She demanded compensation, they paid—completely within the rules of the game.
But these Texans didn't respect those so-called rules of the game. They were all lowlifes, legally illiterate! No money to give, but plenty of life to spare.
Even the wealthiest among them, the mayor, had little in his bank account. They had to consider his wife and children's livelihood—they couldn't seize all his assets. At most, they might get ten or twenty thousand dollars in compensation. The rest were living paycheck to paycheck, without a dime in savings.
The black president sent agents to investigate, and Bella had Gen help with the search. The men genuinely had no money.
This depressed Bella immensely. Her previously invincible compensation lawsuit strategy had been rendered useless because the defendants were too poor.
The inheritance tax still loomed like a mountain over Heather's head.
Between Heather, Max, and her newly acknowledged second uncle, the three of them scraped together everything they had and barely managed to pool thirty-five thousand dollars.
The second uncle was in the middle of divorcing his wife, yet he still gritted his teeth and contributed twenty thousand dollars. From every angle, he'd gone above and beyond.
Heather and Max's ten-plus thousand came from working for Bella over the past year, pinching pennies and saving hard.
After handing over this money, they were completely broke!
With no other option, Heather had to borrow from the nationally renowned beauty author, Bella.
Bella lent her eighty thousand dollars. After jumping through various complicated hoops, they finally inherited the grandmother's estate.
The inheritance included a mansion in the corner of town—now completely desolate. The mansion was currently uninhabitable and might collapse any day. Half the interior furnishings had been destroyed by Bumblebee and the chainsaw killer. Bella said nothing, and Heather didn't know—she assumed the house had always been like this.
There were also three thousand acres of land, a tractor, a cultivator, an extremely dilapidated transport truck, plus various other farm equipment. Bella, who'd never farmed a day in either of her lives, couldn't figure out what half of those things were.
America claims to have three million farmers, but the accurate translation should be "farm owners."
There's another profession called "farm workers"—mostly immigrants from Central and South America, working as seasonal laborers in varying numbers.
Despite the twists and turns, going from having nothing to owning property made Heather incredibly happy. Her light blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she ran wild around the farm, cheering. In the condemned house, she touched everything, looked at everything, radiating pure joy.
Max, thinking he'd benefit by association, kept muttering: "This is great, this is great."
A day later, after the initial excitement wore off, an urgent question faced them both: what could they actually do with this place?
Hire people to continue farming? Or work the land themselves?
Modern farms required far less labor than in the past—maybe a ten-thousandth of the work. They could hire one worker to meet their needs, but then what? Live on those meager profits? Farms offered freedom, true, but they were both city people, unaccustomed to small-town life.
Plus, the high-profile massacre case had left the townspeople looking at them with hostility. The locals didn't care whether the Sawyer family had suffered—they only knew those seven defendants were their neighbors, relatives, and friends. Heather and Max were the enemy. Who knows when someone might burst through the door with a shotgun and blow them away?
Both were troubled. What should they do with this farm?
Heather brought the question to Bella: "How can I make money? Bella, how did you earn your first fortune?"
My first real money was probably the check competitors secretly slipped me when I sued Stark Industries, wasn't it? They wanted me to speed things up?
Obviously couldn't say that.
Next came the airline compensation. That trick had already been used with Heather, only to run into a bunch of broke people immune to the strategy.
"I guess I started with the Weyland Magic Item Store, didn't I? I was so confident back then, and then... now all the monthly profits go to Max's salary! I feel like I'm running that store at a total loss!"
Mid-sentence, she suddenly thought of something and looked at the goateed Max: "You've been in Texas recently, so my store definitely hasn't been open these past few days, right?"
How surprising! Max nodded. He didn't have the ability to be in two places at once. With him in Texas, the San Francisco shop obviously hadn't opened.
Bella had an epiphany: "Almost let you get away with something there. No salary for you this month!"
Max: "..."
He held back again and again, finally managing to suppress the urge to call her a heartless boss.
Bella stared at him, then nodded: "Mr. Max, you've become much calmer now. Good progress! I'm very pleased!"
Even running a shop required capital, and Heather was dirt poor. After learning that writing books was profitable, she turned her attention there. She wanted to write a book too!
She'd studied classical literature, after all. She figured she could do it.
She wasn't familiar with history or religion. She couldn't write female-oriented, young adult fiction like Bella's new book, The Hunger Games. After much deliberation, she decided to draw from her own experience.
Running My Texas Farm! After much thought, she came up with a title.