Chapter 205: Acquitted

“Do you think they’ll expect us to come back so soon?”

Inside the dimly lit warehouse, two young men were swiftly grabbing anything valuable. This time, they had even asked some kids handing out flyers on the street for extras, using the listings to figure out what would be the most profitable to steal.

If it were purely about value, the used cars parked in another lot were undoubtedly worth more.

But those were hard to steal. They didn’t know how to hotwire a car without keys.

Even if they managed to steal one, fencing it would be extremely dangerous.

In the Baylor Federation, car theft rings were organized crime with an entire supply chain. If you found the local ring in Sabin City, you’d definitely find photos and info of Lynch’s car in their catalog.

These catalogs weren’t just local—they were shared across cities with higher-ups and lower-level operatives, like a photo album.

When someone placed an order, the thieves would steal the exact car or motorcycle the client wanted and deliver it.

That meant there could only be one gang per region. They couldn’t afford to disappoint customers or disrupt their network. If an outside group came into Sabin, the first to retaliate wouldn’t be the police—it’d be the local car theft syndicate.

One of the two young men chuckled and shook his head, feigning cleverness. “No way they’d think we’d come back so soon!”

They weren’t worried at all. Theft wasn’t a serious crime under federal law. Even if they got caught, the sentence wouldn’t exceed three years—possibly only two or three months with half a year of community service. The low cost of crime didn’t bother them.

They searched for high-value items that were easy to carry. Outside, a lookout in a blue vest stood in the shadows, smoking.

He didn’t think anyone would spot him. As a worker in the warehouse district, he knew how deep the water ran.

It was normal for some warehouses to lose a few items now and then. As long as the losses weren’t big, no one cared.

It had become an unspoken rule—everyone was in on it. That’s why so many people took on such a hard job. Even calling the police wouldn’t do much.

With over a thousand permanent workers in the warehouse district, catching suspects wasn’t easy. The cost of investigation was high, the payoff small. Most cases were left unresolved.

But this time, trouble was inevitable—because Lynch wasn’t an ordinary man, and he didn’t play by ordinary rules.

The lookout finished his cigarette and pulled out a pocket watch inherited from his grandfather. Under a streetlight, he checked the time—ten minutes had passed.

Maybe it was the cigarette, or maybe his attention was fading, but time seemed to slow down. He grew increasingly irritated.

He wanted to rush the two inside but held back, quietly waiting.

Meanwhile, a sergeant and five team members, six in total, were already in position outside the warehouse per Lynch’s instructions. They had been watching the lookout for a while.

Following the principle of catch the thieves and the goods, they waited silently.

Driven by an instinctive fear of danger, the lookout didn’t realize he was under surveillance—only that he felt more uneasy by the minute. The two idiots inside were taking too long.

Warehouse security didn’t usually patrol on schedule at night, but that unpredictability brought its own risk. Who knew when a guard might get a random urge to do rounds?

After another seven or eight minutes, the two came out through the pried-open door. They could’ve left earlier, but spent the extra time hiding the most valuable items on themselves.

Though friends with the lookout, they weren’t really partners. Sharing the profits with someone who only opened the door and took none of the risk didn’t sit well with them.

So they stashed some valuables. It was only natural.

In the dark, the lookout didn’t notice anything hidden on them. He only muttered, “Took you long enough,” then gently closed the door and led them into the night.

Just as they exited through a side gate, the sergeant made his move.

All three were quickly caught, stolen goods in hand. The team called the police, who arrived soon after and took the suspects into custody.

The sergeant reported everything to Lynch, who was very satisfied.

He didn’t intend to take justice into his own hands. Vigilantism was illegal in the Federation, and he trusted the police to make sure the thieves paid for their crimes.

Lynch thought the matter was settled—until the next day, when he received shocking news.

“You’re saying… they were released?” Lynch’s voice carried a mix of disbelief and absurdity. The police had just called the number they’d left after reporting the break-in to inform him of the case’s outcome.

The result was completely unexpected. After confirming the news, Lynch called the station himself. His tone was calm, masking his displeasure.

“Last night my warehouse was broken into. Three thieves were caught and reported to the police. But now you’re telling me they were released? I want to know why.”

The operator, a young woman, asked Lynch to hold while she checked. Seven or eight minutes later, she returned and confirmed the release.

“Mr. Lynch, I’m sorry for what happened. But the case was processed through Sabin City’s expedited court. Since this was their first recorded offense, the judge showed leniency and waived criminal charges. Instead, they were sentenced to community service—no less than twenty hours a week, for…” She paused, flipping pages. “Nine months.”

The call ended shortly after. The result was so ridiculous, Lynch almost laughed.

He immediately called Ferrell. Lynch’s original plan had been to post the criminals’ names and sentences around his warehouse, to warn others that some places were off-limits.

But now? Community service was basically no punishment at all.

Everyone knew that community service agencies wouldn’t offend residents. Without administrative orders or court supervision, these agencies would still report that offenders had completed their tasks—whether they had or not.

This wasn’t the result Lynch wanted. It would only embolden others. He had to find out what had really happened.

Ferrell offered a few words of consolation. He explained that Sabin City’s jails had stopped accepting low-level offenders.

In other words, the prisons were full—due to worsening public safety.

Another reason was that some people, having lost their jobs and struggling to survive, were turning to prison on purpose. In jail, they’d have food, shelter, even basic healthcare—at least for minor illnesses.

How were minor illnesses defined? By whether the treatment cost more than an autopsy and cremation, and whether the illness was contagious.

Many had started committing crimes just to be jailed. Inside, they had food, work, and no worries.

These people were no longer assets—they had become burdens. Their labor had no market value. So, prisons began refusing new inmates.

The prisons wouldn’t take inmates, the courts had no authority to detain them, and the police stations certainly couldn’t hold them either. Ferrell explained that the Sabin City Police Department and its precincts were suffering from severe manpower shortages, so unless the crime was major, offenders were simply sentenced to community service.

It wasn’t personal—it was just the only option left.

Meanwhile, the three released offenders felt a strange, indescribable sensation stirring inside them. They had committed a crime but were effectively declared innocent.

To them, community service was no different from being acquitted. They’d never heard of someone committing a crime and not serving time. So after a brief rest, they decided to stir up more trouble in the warehouse district—and for those who’d caught them the night before. They wanted to teach them a lesson.

They needed to understand: some people are not to be crossed.

With that mindset, they became even bolder. This time, they didn’t intend to steal—and certainly not to rob, since robbery was a serious crime. They were just going to move things.

Move items from one place to another.