Mexicali Prison.
Leanna Lazaro Cortes was dragged along in handcuffs, flanked by two police officers.
"I'm a journalist, where are you taking me? This is personal vengeance!"
She began to panic. Previous scenarios were not like this, whether it was an anti-drug mayor or governor, as long as she spoke from a standpoint of "humanity" and "dignity," she was unbeatable.
They could only be rendered speechless by her questions.
But why wasn't it working this time with Victor?
Dammit!
Let me out!
The police officer on the left looked at her and sneered, "You sympathize with drug traffickers, don't you? I'm taking you to meet them so you can brainwash them."
Offended Director Victor and still think you can leave?
Directly sending you to paradise!
Upon hearing this, Leanna Lazaro Cortes was stunned. I was just saying it, do you really mean it?
"No, don't!"
She struggled fiercely.
But adults must pay the price for their actions.
The police officers dragged her to the innermost cell.
Drug traffickers were locked on both sides, they all stood up when they heard the commotion, grabbed the cell doors tightly and shook them, especially when they saw a woman, howling loudly.
"Quiet! Shut the hell up! Keep yelling, and I'll smash your mouths!" the leading officer yelled.
The drug traffickers instantly fell silent.
These were not people caught by Victor's men; they were imprisoned before and luckily for them, they were still alive. If they were outside, they might already have been turned into fertilizer by now.
But to keep them from causing trouble, Victor had 30 drug trafficker leaders pulled out and executed in front of them as soon as he secured his position in Mexicali!
"If you want to die, go ahead and make a fuss!"
"Officer, what's the deal with this woman?" a bold drug trafficker asked with a sneer.
"They want to preach to you, make you believe in Jesus," the officer jokingly said. "Whose cell is empty?"
"Come to mine, I love to hear about God the most, come on in!"
"Get lost, both my parents are religious, and so am I, sister where are your stockings?"
"Come here, I have a Virgin Mary tattooed on my back, come over, and check it out, also my bed is quite spacious."
As soon as the drug traffickers heard this, they became excited, daringly reached out to grab her, scaring the female reporter into crying out loud, her legs trembling so much she knelt on the ground and even urinated out of fear.
A bunch of drug traffickers, their bodies covered in all sorts of tattoos, then fiercely pulling at you, anyone would be scared, right?
"Don't, don't leave me here."
There were rumors that he was already dead.
"You'd better not be lying to us!" the officer pointed at her and said, "Otherwise, we'll show you the consequences of making false alarms!"
The two men dragged the weakened female journalist outside; her legs gave way amid the stench of a cloudy mix of urine and blood on the floor.
See, the best way to deal with self-righteous bitches is to send them to prison to preach.
In this place, if you want them to believe in God and reform, the best method is to beat them to death and let them be more cautious in their next life.
The Cambra Valley.
Vic hung up the phone with Best and couldn't help but laugh, murmuring, "How interesting."
Casare, very curious, leaned over and asked, "Boss, what happened?"
"Best said Raul Salinas is trying to bribe him to get my criminal record, even gave him a blank check to fill out as he wishes."
"That bastard is out of his mind. Boss, you don't have any criminal actions! This is an insult! Absolute defamation," Casare expressed righteously indignant.
Victor squinted, "Threatening and intimidating government officials, who does he think he is? Capture him and bring him to Guadalupe Island; I want to prosecute his crimes!"
Casare nodded, "Such scum must be purged, otherwise, they'll tarnish the environment and reputation of Mexico."
"Make sure it's done cleanly."
"No problem."
"Director, could you come over for a photo, please?" A reporter rushed over and asked nervously.
Victor smiled amicably, "Of course, no problem."
He stood in front of drugs and weapons with a group of reporters, and as the shutter clicked, this photo was destined to be recorded in history.
And when the reporters left, Casare personally handed each a red envelope, varying the amount given depending on the reporter's company affiliation.
The cheapest was 200 US dollars.
No worries, after all, there was plenty of money!
The reporters who took the money knew the drill; they would write something nice in return.
"Huh? Where's the Mexico News Group?" Casare held the last big red envelope, surprised that no one came to claim it, which gave him pause. He grabbed a reporter and asked.
The reporter looked at him with an odd expression and said, "That female reporter from earlier was from the Mexico News Group."
Casare raised an eyebrow and shoved the red envelope back into his pocket.
Great, saved 3000 US dollars.
As for whether the Mexico News Group would seek revenge?
Hahahaha...
Be careful of a bomb going off in your trash can at the door!
By then, it will definitely be the drug traffickers' doing.
...