LRAB Page 163
Page 163
The Sun went even further: "Victor's trial day? Boxing or massacre?"
It even spread to the United States.
Boxing Sports used a shocking headline: "How can a murderer become a boxer?"
But Chicago remained unmoved.
Even some immigrants from Northern Ireland applauded the move.
The rumors spread like wildfire.
Some say Victor is a hired thug for the gang, and this is a case of gangsters killing each other;
Some say he is inherently violent and has a criminal record;
Some have linked the incident to racial prejudice, calling it a frame-up against successful immigrants.
Sky Sports Boxing Promotion Company's phone lines were overwhelmed with calls, and the WBA officially expressed "high concern," casting a shadow over the originally scheduled fight of the century.
Supporters consider him a hero for fighting crime;
Opponents condemned the excessive violence and demanded severe punishment.
·······
The police questioning and the subsequent bail hearing became Sir Simon Lester's personal stage.
The old jazz musician remained calm and composed, like a seasoned symphony conductor, orchestrating every piece of evidence to deliver a powerful defense of Victor.
He did not deny that Viktor killed someone, but focused entirely on "why" and "how".
He first presented the evidence:
Victor's torn high-end suit jacket and the wallet with its pockets turned inside out had fingerprints that perfectly matched the deceased's.
"Gentlemen,"
Lester's voice, professional as he was, echoed in the room: "My client, a successful athlete, was surrounded in a dark alley by five burly men armed with weapons—daggers and clubs found on the ground."
They demanded money, and he gave it to them the first and second time! He cooperated! But greed knows no bounds, and the violence escalated. They wanted more, even threatening his life!
Then, he pointed to the forensic report: "Look at these wounds! Every fatal wound shows only one impact! What does that tell you?"
This was not a violent beating in a fit of rage, this was not revenge!
This was the most precise yet helpless self-defense response made in a very short time, under conditions of extreme fear and danger, in order to stop a continuous and deadly attack!
Every punch is aimed at incapacitating the opponent in order to protect oneself.
But my client, a world-class professional boxer, possesses a level of 'stopping' ability far beyond what ordinary people imagine.
Then, he changed the subject, pointing the finger at something deeper:
“But the one who should really be standing here is not my client! It is London’s terrible security situation! It is the ineffective public safety system that forces a law-abiding citizen, an internationally renowned athlete, to risk his life against five thugs in a back alley! If the police were more efficient, if the streets were safer, this tragedy would never have happened!”
Inspector Miller sat in the audience, his face ashen, but he couldn't refute it.
The chain of evidence perfectly supports Lester's argument:
The victim had a criminal record and was a member of a local gang;
Their fingerprints were on the weapons;
There was no evidence of Viktor attacking them.
The injury report also supports the theory of a single, devastating blow.
The judge listened to the statements, reviewed the documents, and ultimately made a decision.
The scales of justice tip toward the determination of self-defense and the rigorous consideration of 'reasonable doubt'.
On the afternoon of November 20, 1986, Victor Lee was released on bail less than 24 hours after his arrest, on the condition of a huge bail (Ethan readily paid $11).
The formal trial will be held in a week.
Throughout the entire process, Viktor remained unusually silent.
He remained silent when surrounded by reporters, gave brief answers to police questions under the guidance of his lawyer, and did not utter a word at the hearing.
But he was not entirely unmoved. When the handcuffs were put on, he felt a chilling humiliation, not fear.
When faced with the corpse, he felt no pity, no sense of victory, only a cathartic pleasure—the threat was gone, nothing more.
He was annoyed by the reporters' constant flashing lights, and their pointed questions sounded incredibly stupid to him.
His eyes flickered slightly only when he heard Sir Lester describe the dangerous situation and mention "protecting lives".
He recalled the familiar sensation of a fist striking flesh, and even further back, in darker places, the memory of throwing punches for survival.
He never enjoyed violence, but he was adept at it and knew it to be one of the most effective tools for solving problems.
He seems to view both praise and criticism from the outside world through a layer of glass, unable to truly touch them.
His only thought was:
We can't let the game be delayed.
The weigh-in ceremony, Valuyev's title defense, this is his track, and anything that tries to push him off track will be eliminated—whether it's robbers or legal proceedings.
······
After being granted bail, Victor barely lingered and, accompanied by Frankie and his lawyer, went straight to the weighing ceremony.
The WBA weigh-in ceremony proceeded as scheduled, but the atmosphere was extremely strange.
The number of reporters in the audience was far greater than usual, and the cameras were no longer focused solely on boxer Valuyev, but also more on Viktor, who had just come out of the police station.
Valuev, the massive, reigning boxing champion, looked at Viktor with a contemptuous and provocative smile. He made a throat-slitting gesture, which drew cheers from his supporters in the audience.
The media were eager to see Viktor's reaction, hoping to capture even the slightest hint of wavering or anger.
Victor walked onto the scale with a blank expression and took off his robe.
The exaggeratedly shaped, fatty muscles sculpted the body like a sculpture under the lights, every inch of which contained terrifying power.
He passed the weighing and then turned to Valuyev.
The two looked at each other in front of the camera and, as is customary, touched foreheads together.
Valuyev muttered insulting words in Russian under his breath.
Viktor's gaze, however, was like two cold daggers, piercing through the opponent's bluff.
He didn't speak, but there was no sign of retreat in his eyes, only an almost cruel calm, as if he were examining an object about to be dismantled.
The surrounding flashes almost exploded.
The photos from the second day perfectly captured this moment:
On one side is a roaring boxing champion, and on the other is a challenger whose calmness is suffocating.
The headline might be: "A showdown outside the law: Viktor passes the weigh-in and sets his sights on the champion."
The weighing ceremony was over, but everyone knew that the real storm was yet to come.
Is the match result valid? Can the match still proceed as scheduled?
The boxing association is having a meeting.
Chapter 138 Eligibility
London, November 20, 1986.
The night was thick, and cold rain lashed the streets, while neon lights distorted into a blurry halo on the wet pavement.
Victor Lee stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his high-rise apartment, overlooking the vast and bustling city.
Outside the window, the cold pulse of the city beats, but inside, there is an almost stagnant silence.
He had just been released on bail, and the cold touch of the handcuffs still lingered on his wrists; an invisible shackle seemed to still be binding him.
I felt a dull pain in my finger bone; the doctor said it was a severe contusion, but thankfully it wasn't broken.
But the pain was real, a reminder of the bloody encounter that had occurred not long ago deep in the alley—five men who had tried to attack him had all fallen to his fists and never got up again.
The court has not yet made a ruling, but the public is already in an uproar.
"Butcher," "killer," "master of self-defense"... the media has labeled him with all sorts of sensational tags.
Viktor twisted his aching wrist, his eyes cold.
He was not a bloodthirsty person; his outburst that night stemmed from an extreme need to release pressure.
At this moment, he felt no joy of victory, only a heavy numbness and a deep-seated exhaustion.
Tomorrow should have been the pinnacle of his career – a fight against WBA world champion Nikolai Valuev, a Russian giant known for his strength and size.
Now, the significance of this match has become complex and subtle, and even whether it can be held as scheduled is uncertain.
The pager on the table suddenly blared, shattering the silence of the room.
Viktor's heart skipped a beat; at this moment, most of the information was related to his fate.
He picked up his pager; the screen displayed a brief message from an official within the WBO with whom he had a good personal relationship:
"The controversy is intense, and there is significant debate regarding eligibility. Contact your lawyer immediately."
Those few lines of text struck him like a heavy hammer blow to the chest.
The qualification dispute... Sure enough, some of them wanted to make a fuss about it.
A chilling anger and anxiety instantly dispelled the vulnerability that followed the murder.
Boxing is his whole life, the only way he climbed out of poverty. Should he be deprived of it because of a case that has not yet been settled?
He would rather stand in the boxing ring and be knocked down by Valuev than lose his chance in such an absurd way.
·······
Prior to this, in a luxurious hotel conference room on the other side of the city, the atmosphere was thick with smoke and so tense it was almost palpable.
Several high-ranking representatives from the WBO (World Boxing Organization) and WBA (World Boxing Association), along with key members of the event organizing committee, broadcaster representatives, and sponsor representatives, sat around a long table.
The meeting had only one theme:
Viktor Lee's eligibility to compete.