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The case is simple.
A wealthy, alcoholic father, Paul Sr., is now sober. Seeing his son, Paul Jr., still a heavy drinker, he's displeased and threatens to kick him out of his will. An argument ensues, and the father falls to his death from a tall building.
The prosecutor charges the son with patricide.
The law firm pleads not guilty.
Chuck quietly observes the courtroom.
During a recess.
"What's going on?"
Diane asks.
"Four jurors expressed a mild dislike for him,"
Chuck says succinctly.
"Is it because of the crime scene photos?"
the female attorney asks.
"No, it's because of the photo of Mr. Bauer in his Vietnam War uniform, holding a beer."
Chuck shakes his head.
"Now they think Mr. Bauer is a Vietnam War fanatic,"
Diane says, feeling a headache.
"We can still investigate the home invasion case. We just need to find another suspect,"
the female attorney reminds her.
"Okay,"
Diane nods, looking at the female investigator. "Kalinda, you'll investigate the robbery."
Kalinda agrees and leaves.
"It's time for lunch. I need to go observe the jury members eating."
Chuck said, then nodded and left.
In the courthouse cafeteria,
Chuck found an empty corner and sat down, starting to take out his lunch box and set it out.
"Can I sit here?"
A childish voice sounded expectantly.
Chuck looked up and saw little Leonard looking at him eagerly with his plate in hand.
Not far away, Diane was sitting with her nephew Mike and the female lawyer. Little Mike was smiling as he talked to his aunt and the others about his understanding and aspirations for lawyers, attracting their attention so much that they even forgot little Leonard was not there.
Chuck nodded and said seriously, "As long as you don't eat dairy products."
"No dairy products!"
Little Leonard quickly brought his plate to the front, indicating that he didn't order any dairy products. Then he grinned and looked at the seats, and tactfully sat across from Chuck, the one farthest away.
The two of them quietly enjoyed their lunch.
"Aunt Diane told me you're a detective, so you saw right away that I'm lactose intolerant?"
After a moment, little Leonard couldn't hold back any longer and asked, "That's so cool!"
"At your age and height, you should be drinking more milk, but there's no dairy on your plate. I don't want to smell anything."
Chuck wanted to laugh, but he couldn't control his body, so he remained serious and expressionless.
Lactose intolerance, the inability to digest lactose, causes gas, commonly known as excessive farting.
Little Leonard was immediately embarrassed. He took out an asthma inhaler and took a few deep puffs, but he wasn't the least bit annoyed.
There was nothing he could do. He'd gotten used to it.
If this could irritate him, he'd have become the Hulk long ago.
So he quickly calmed down and grinned, "You're amazing!"
Chuck remained silent and continued eating, occasionally glancing up at the jury gathered in the distance.
"How can I become as amazing as you?"
Little Leonard asked his most curious question.
"Exercise more, rest more, and eat more vegetables."
Chuck glanced at him.
"..."
Little Leonard smiled bitterly.
Although he was still young, he had an extremely high IQ. In addition, he had been "trained" since he was a child, so he matured too much. Naturally, he knew that this was a common phrase used by adults to coax children to be obedient.
Of course it was useful.
He could get more rest and eat more vegetables, but how could he, an asthma patient, exercise more?
Besides, what does exercising more have to do with becoming a great detective? He's not going to participate in the Olympics!
The phone rang.
Chuck put down the spoon, wiped his hands and mouth, and then took out his mobile phone to answer it. After listening for a while, he glanced at little Leonard and said to the other end of the phone: "Send it to me."
"Another new case?"
Little Leonard was very curious.
"No, I'm doing someone a favor."
Chuck shook his head, pulled his laptop from his briefcase, placed it on his desk, and began to work.
Texas.
East Texas.
Over three hours ago.
IRS branch office.
A tall, portly man walked in with a little boy in a blazer and bow tie.
"I'm George Cooper, and this is my son, Sheldon."
"I know, we talked on the phone,"
the bald clerk said, glancing at the father and son with a half-smile.
"Your voice is exactly the same as on the phone. Not everyone does that,"
little Sheldon said seriously.
"Let's get started,"
George interrupted immediately.
This unnecessary IRS audit had been provoked by his son, who didn't know when to keep quiet. As an ordinary American with common sense, he knew you don't mess with two things: death and taxes.
If he let his son continue, who knew what would happen, and it couldn't be good!
"Okay."
The bald clerk sat down and began auditing the Cooper family's expenses over the past three years. He asked little Sheldon, who worked as his family's accountant, to explain the income and expenditure.
George was apprehensive, but young Sheldon was confident and high-spirited, confident that his accounting was flawless and impeccable.
"Let's start with the business deductions on Schedule A of your 1989 tax return,"
the bald clerk began.
"Okay, the data is right here, dated, highlighted, and cross-referenced,"
young Sheldon said confidently.
"Explain the necessity of this expense,"
the bald clerk continued.
"Our adjusted gross income totals less than $50,000."
Faced with the auditor's questions, young Sheldon offered reasonable explanations one by one.
The question-and-answer session lasted a full three hours, and the bald clerk, unable to find any problems, couldn't help but admire him: "It seems you really understand tax law. Impressive! You're helping your parents manage their finances for free at such a young age."
"Oh, I'm not doing it for free. My dad's buying me a model train afterward,"
young Sheldon quickly corrected.
"Interesting."
The bald clerk immediately smiled: "So you accepted compensation, and you are not a licensed tax professional. This violates federal law."
Little Sheldon was stunned, and then he couldn't control his bladder: "Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom."
George waited for a long time, but his son didn't come back. He hurried out to look for him, but found his son sitting on the ground crying.
Little Sheldon cried and said that because of this mistake, the family would owe a lot of money in back taxes, and their family was struggling financially and didn't have this money.
More importantly, how could he, such a law-abiding person, violate federal law!
George had no choice but to comfort him reluctantly. The father and son returned to the meeting room. Just when they were about to admit defeat and accept the penalty, little Sheldon suddenly remembered that his father was a school coach and a teacher. This wasn't accepting compensation, but receiving educational guidance.
The bald clerk caught the look from the people standing outside the door, then looked at George, who was giving him a pleading smile, and nodded. "Okay, your taxes are fine. Your son is incredibly smart."
"Thank you,"
little Sheldon said, his chin raised. "I hope you come back next year to audit our family so I can beat you again."
"Don't push it!"
George's face turned pale. He stood up, grabbed little Sheldon, and prepared to leave.
At that moment, the conference room door opened.
Another bald man walked in.
"Director!"
the bald clerk stood up and greeted.
"Come with me,"
the IRS director said to little Sheldon and his son, then turned and left.
"Looks like we don't have to wait until next year."
The bald clerk looked at them with a half-smile. "Go ahead."
George's face turned pale.
Little Sheldon was completely confused by the situation, but he still smiled confidently and said, "Winning two games in one day would be awesome."
Director's Office
"Sit down."
The bald director motioned for them to sit down, picked up his phone and dialed a number: "I need you to audit a tax return!"
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