PERSONAL JUSTICE by Ramlee Awang Murshid

32

CHINATOWN, NEW YORK

11 October 2000 - 1.18 p.m.

DALJIT looked around at the outside. The scenery was no difference from that of China. While the businesses operating in narrow alleys were no difference from those found at Petaling Street, Kuala Lumpur. Beside Chinese, be they permanent residents or illegal immigrants, there were other races from the Asian region like Pakistan, Thailand and Singapore. However, Chinese were definitely a majority.

"Do you know what I'm thinking, Gabriel?" Daljit asked, without turning. He was still preoccupied with the scenery outside their room. There were a number of Caucasians in the area, too, either the Americans themselves or immigrants from all over Europe, sightseeing or shopping. 

"What are you thinking about?" Gabried asked, instead.

"I wonder, how come the local papers won't do any follow-up on the story about Hilman? Despite the news being published on the front page earlier," Daljit said, still looking outside.

"So... what's the answer you get?"

"That's what I'm thinking about, now." Daljit turned to Gabriel who was already standing beside him. "You are... a spy, right? What do you think about that?"

"I can't think of anything right now." Gabriel said truthfully. "What are you looking at, Daljit?" Gabriel changed the subject. Daljit sighed. Gabriel chuckled at the change in Daljit's face. 

"Tell me, now, why choose Chinatown? Why not somewhere else? Manhattan is big, you know. Why not Harlem, Chelsea or Little Italy?" Daljit posed questions after questions like an interrogator, or a prosecutor cross-examining a witness. 

 "I choose Chinatown because..." Gabriel thought.

"Because Chinatown is like our country, right? We Malaysians don't feel awkward integrating with the Chinese here. Because Malaysia is a multi-racial country." Daljit forwarded his answer to Gabriel. Gabriel nodded.

"It's the same with the newspapers here. The story about Hilman has no effect on them. Meaning... it's not big news." Daljit made a logical assumption. Gabriel blinked in amazement at Daljit's theory.

"So... why didn't you call them? At least to get an explanation?" Gabriel suggested.

"Hmm... a good idea." In an instant, Daljit turned then sat and picked up the telephone. He contacted several newspapers including the Washington Post and New York Post.

Gabriel let Daljit went on with his work while he pressed his brain, thinking and finding any evidence to prove that Hilman wasn't drunk while driving. He didn't know who Hilman was. That was the reason he found it difficult to assume anything about the man. In the meantime, he waited for the next development about Hilman without acting beyond the country's law.

Gabriel was taken aback when Daljit slammed the phone down. Then Daljit rose and took out his notebook computer. Soon as he switched the computer on, he set down to type something. 

"What are you doing, Daljit?" Gabriel asked. 

"Typing a story," Daljit replied without turning. He was engrossed to finish a further development of the accident that befell Hilman.

"What happened?" Gabriel asked again.

"The local editors thought the accident was insignificant. They said it was not a big story. They're concentrating more on the upcoming presidential election on 7 November," Daljit said. His fingers danced fluidly over the letters on the keyboard. 

"Meaning, they're not interested at all?" 

"Exactly," Daljit replied. 

"Oh..." Gabriel nodded.