Chapter 175 The Sickness in America

(Chapter 174 is under review... everyone, don't worry...)

"First, the cases discovered so far are all concentrated among manual laborers, but that doesn't mean they don't exist within the white-collar group."

"Medical Center, design teams, hotel operations teams—if there are similar situations among these people, we don't have the data yet."

"Second, the source of the fentanyl. These two workers got the stuff from the Cincinnati riverfront area, which was Derek's territory."

"Now that Derek is dead, those illicit trade operations are still ongoing."

"Vinnie Caruso previously helped us integrate the client network for the electricity market, but we haven't touched the contraband sector."

"If we don't touch it, someone else will."

"Third, and most crucially, the current police force in Oxford Town is more than enough for routine public safety maintenance."

"But if the contraband problem spreads from individual cases into a group phenomenon, the existing police force configuration will not be enough."

Mu Xin stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, on the main street of Oxford Town, the first wave of morning customers was already lining up in front of the newly opened Chinese restaurant.

In the distance, a tower crane on the construction site was slowly rotating, hoisting a bundle of steel bars from the ground into mid-air.

In the eyes of anyone unaware, this small town looked like a quiet and orderly painting.

But Mu Xin knew that on the back of this painting, the things breeding in the corners he couldn't see were spreading at a speed he had never anticipated.

Fentanyl.

The only time he had encountered this word before was in the news, when the CDC released the annual nationwide drug overdose death data; fentanyl was always the number one killer, exceeding 110,000 people last year.

But he had never connected these numbers to Oxford Town; Oxford Town's essence had previously been a university town, a quiet small town with only a few blocks.

Only now did he realize the naivety of that thought—a town expanding from 20,000 to 30,000 people, and he hadn't prepared a plan to deal with the proliferation of contraband in advance.

This was his oversight; it wasn't an oversight of ability, but of perception.

He came from a country with zero tolerance for contraband. In his fundamental mindset, the word "drugs" was associated with harsh laws and capital punishment for severe crimes.

But in the United States, contraband was part of the fabric of American society—from OxyContin to fentanyl, from Purdue Pharma to Mexican drug cartels, from legally prescribed painkillers to five-dollar white pills on the street.

Every link in this chain was legal, or rather, within the American legal system, it was difficult to distinguish between legal and illegal before it completely snapped.

The Sackler family of Purdue Pharma used billions of dollars in marketing to sell OxyContin to tens of millions of Americans. Doctors took commissions from Purdue and signed their names on every prescription slip. The FDA admitted to regulatory failure in post-incident investigations, but no one went to jail for it.

After tens of millions of people developed a physiological dependence on opioids, the government suddenly tightened prescription controls, raising drug prices to a level that lower-class patients simply could not afford.

Those patients, abandoned by both the Sackler family and the government, faced a choice on the very first day they were cut off from their medication.

Either endure hellish withdrawal symptoms or go to the street and buy a fentanyl pill.

This was an entire assembly line of death created jointly by legitimate capital and legitimate policy.

And Oxford Town was now standing at the very end of this assembly line.

He couldn't stop people carrying pain and trauma from coming to his territory, but he could decide whether they would get a chance to turn their lives around when they appeared on his turf, or be thrown directly into another abyss.

"Tom, where are those two people now?" Mu Xin asked.

"They are in the holding cell at the Police Department; a case hasn't been formally filed yet," Tom said.

"I haven't transferred them to the County Prosecutor's Office yet. For one thing, the chain of evidence isn't complete; we haven't traced the source of the fentanyl yet."

"On the other hand," he glanced at Mu Xin, "I want to hear your thoughts before deciding on the next step."

"These two are your workers, and they are also your residents. It's your territory, you make the call."

Mu Xin smiled, "This isn't my territory; I'm just investing here. Watch your wording."

"For that riveter, arrange for the Medical Center to conduct a full assessment of his old back injury."

"If his need for pain relief is reasonable, then prescribe him legitimate prescription painkillers. The Medical Center has prescribing authority; he doesn't need to go find street alternatives himself."

"At the same time, arrange physical therapy and rehabilitation for him. It's not about toughing it out by taking painkillers; it's about gradually solving the root cause of his back problem."

"Have him sign a confession, then send him to the Medical Center and tell him that from today on, he is part of the rehabilitation program."

"As for that nineteen-year-old scaffolder." Mu Xin rubbed his temples, "Notify his family and let them know he is in Oxford Town."

"At the same time, send him into mandatory withdrawal and have the professional team at the Medical Center handle the medical withdrawal."

"Clear the addiction from his body as soon as possible, then let him continue working on the construction site, but he must go to the Medical Center for a re-check every week. His base salary will still be paid during the withdrawal period."

Tom and John exchanged a look; Mu Xin's approach deviated from what they had anticipated.

"Does doing this require legislative support?" Tom thought for a moment and asked.

"The Police Department of Oxford Town has discretion. As the Police Chief, you have the authority to decide to initiate community rehabilitation programs for first-time non-violent contraband possessors instead of handing them directly over to the criminal justice system."

"This is your authority; you don't need to go through superiors," Mu Xin said, having learned quite a few legal clauses from spending time with Jessica.

"Also, leave the fentanyl supply chain alone for now."

"John, arrange for people to investigate whether it is an individual or an organization selling fentanyl to the construction site. Determine who they are, where their supply source is, and how large their distribution network covers."

"I will have Vinnie assist you with this matter; he has channels in the gray market, and your collaboration will be most efficient."

"As for the current police force," Mu Xin turned around to look at Tom, "There are probably a few months left until the theme park opens. Around the opening, the transient population in town will reach a peak."

"By then, the contraband problem will be more prominent than it is now. I need you to prepare a targeted police force plan in advance."

"Not those routine patrols, but a specialized contraband control unit."

"How many people are needed, what the organizational structure is, what the authority is, how to coordinate with the Medical Center's rehabilitation plan, and how to divide labor with John's security company. Write it all down clearly and give it to me by next week."

"Once you have completed these tasks, we will discuss how to proceed to the next step!"