That evening, the police entered Michael's house and recovered six dead bodies. It was Mrs. Brown who had informed the police. The bodies were quickly sent for post-mortem examination.
Mrs. Brown sat outside the post-mortem room where Samuel's sister lay. Her mind was a storm of agonizing thoughts, a restless turmoil she couldn't escape. She sat in heavy silence on the cold wooden bench, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the doctor. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped out and looked at her with a somber expression. "Ma'am," he began, handing her the papers, "here is your daughter's post-mortem report. A death like this... it's truly a haunting and painful thing to witness."
With those words, the doctor walked away, leaving a heavy silence behind. As the report touched Mrs. Brown's hands, she could no longer hold back her tears. The weight of losing her husband and a girl she loved as her own daughter in a single day was too much to bear; she pressed her hand over her mouth, her muffled sobs breaking into a violent cry. Samuel, too, had been missing since late afternoon. Having lost all three of them in one day, she felt herself drowning in a vast, dark ocean of grief.
She sat there, letting her tears flow freely, yet no one approached her to ask if she was alright. When she glanced at the wall clock and saw it was already 7:00 PM—the time she usually fed the younger children at the orphanage—she was forced to pull herself together. Just then, a voice drifted from another bench nearby, "Grief comes to everyone's life. But that doesn't mean you can just let yourself fall apart like this."
Mrs. Brown looked up and noticed a man sitting on the adjacent bench, his head bowed low. She had been so consumed by her grief that she hadn't even realized when he had arrived or how long he had been sitting there.
The man wore a white hat pulled low over his head. He was dressed in a purple shirt layered under a grey blazer, paired with matching grey trousers and brown leather boots. Wrapped around his neck was a striking green muffler.
In response to such words, Mrs. Brown replied, "I haven't let myself go. Just today, my husband and a daughter passed away. My son has gone missing. In such a situation, isn't it incredibly difficult to keep oneself composed?"
She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. The man then asked in a calm, steady voice, "How many children do you have?"
Then, with a sudden flare of aggression, Mrs. Brown replied, "It's true that I have no biological children of my own. But all forty-four children in that orphanage are mine! But tell me... who are you to be asking such things?"
The man looked up, his voice still eerily calm, and said, "In our world, ma'am, we don't have the luxury of falling apart. We only have the duty of settling the accounts."
Slowly, the man removed his hat and lifted his face. Leaning back against the wall, he gazed out through the opposite window and said, "My brother died today as well. He was four years younger than me. The boy was only twenty-one."
At that moment, Mrs. Brown finally understood why the man had spoken those words. She immediately apologized for her aggressive behavior. In response, the man said, "There's no need to apologize. If I were in your place, I would have likely done the same. But you know... I will never forgive my brother for the crime that led to his murder."
Then, with a look of deep curiosity, Mrs. Brown asked, "What could be the crime he committed, that even in death, he cannot find forgiveness from his own brother?"
The man looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes, and said in a low voice, "He r*ped and m*rdered an orphan girl."
"Disgusting!" Mrs. Brown spat the word out in pure loathing, and suddenly, she seemed to wither. A specific question flared in her mind, accompanied by a crushing sense of dread. Forcing herself to stay composed, she asked, "What... what was your brother's name?"
The man, still looking upward, replied simply, "Michael."
Mrs. Brown gasped in shock. The one who had destroyed her daughter's life was the brother of the man sitting right in front of her! That meant this man was none other than Gabriel Young, the most notorious gangster in Texas!
Yet, despite being such a powerful criminal himself, why was he not shielding his brother's sins?
A swarm of questions began to buzz in her mind, and she was consumed by a new, paralyzing fear.
It was then that the man spoke again, his voice cold as ice, "However, it is also true that I will find whoever murdered my brother, no matter what."
For a moment, Mrs. Brown felt as if her breath was choking. She was seized by a sudden, sharp terror.
"Will he destroy Samuel to avenge his brother's death?"
Haunted by such terrifying questions, she became almost paralyzed with fear.
The man stood up and walked away, but he left Mrs. Brown trapped in a situation from which escape seemed impossible. She desperately wanted to find a way to bring Samuel back, but deep down, she knew all too well that it was already far too late.
She returned home just before 8:00 PM. As soon as she stepped inside, the children swarmed around her, bombarded her with questions about Samuel's whereabouts. Trying her best to distract them, she said, "Samuel is deeply shaken by what happened to Father and sister, so he wants to be alone for a few days. Don't worry about him; he is doing fine."
Most of the children were quite young, so it was easy to convince them. However, there was one who knew that she wasn't telling the truth. It was a girl, two years older than Samuel.
Her name was Catherine, the one who always stood by Samuel through every danger and obstacle, looking after him like a guardian. She knew all too well that Mrs. Brown was only saying those things because she was forced by the circumstances.
A long time passed, but Samuel never returned. Although Mrs. Brown had placed numerous missing person advertisements in local papers and filed reports with the police, they didn't make even the slightest effort to find him. Eventually, she gave up hope and stopped waiting. Yet, deep down, she still felt a lingering sense that one day, Samuel would surely return.
On the other hand, Samuel had started living at the Texas railway station. After committing such a brutal murder, he couldn't bring himself to return to the orphanage as a criminal. He was living a miserable, destitute life, struggling through immense hardship. He was forced to survive solely on begging.
However, the money he collected from begging was frequently snatched away from him. A few delinquent boys his age who hung around the station, and even some of the older beggars, were responsible for these thefts. Because Samuel was naturally timid and soft-hearted, he never dared to protest.
But this was merely the preparation for the turning point of his life.