The Philadelphia District Attorney's Office.
Eric Hart sat behind his desk, the ashtray on it overflowing with cigarette butts.
Rain was falling over Philadelphia, pattering against the windowpane with a dull thud.
Hart stared at the copy of the trial transcript that had just been delivered to his desk.
The phone rang again.
Hart glanced at the screen. It displayed a number from Washington D.C.
He didn't answer.
He let the ringing echo through the office until the caller hung up.
He knew who was calling, and he knew what they wanted to say.
Legal counsel from the Democratic National Committee, lobbyists from the insurance conglomerates, even high-ranking officials from the Department of Justice.
Their message was singular: he had to secure a conviction.
They needed Luigi Randall nailed to a Cross, to make an example of him with the harshest possible sentence. It was to deter any would-be copycats and uphold the dignity of a healthcare system worth trillions of US Dollars.
