"Shut up, you too! For someone your age, you sure know how to twist things around. Aren't you afraid I'll send you to the criminal police squad? Look at how badly you beat him—his nasal bone might even be broken. Do you know that's called assault? And you say your family has someone in the First Division—are you trying to fool me? Why do you assume I'm from the sub-bureau police station? What if I'm from the Second Division?" This blatant threat from Brian Carter immediately silenced the thief in the front seat; it seemed he'd hit a nerve. But it infuriated the policewoman beside him—he was being way too brazen, daring to threaten a witness right in front of a cop. Did he think the law didn't exist?

"Hehehe... You're really funny. There are female officers in the Seventh Division, but they're all real tigresses. You're much cuter than them. And don't try to scare me. I already told you, my family also has people working in the public security system. I'm not bluffing, it's true. Your badge number already says it all—002 is the city bureau's criminal investigation division, 01 is the Xicheng sub-bureau. I just can't tell from the following numbers whether you're from the sub-bureau or the police station, since this isn't my field. Besides, even if you want to enforce the law, you have to tell me your unit first, right? Otherwise, you'd be violating procedure." Once he figured out the thief's issue, Brian Carter realized he didn't need to be afraid of this policewoman either. She couldn't really do anything to him—at most, she'd keep an eye on him while he took the injured man to the hospital. And then what? Take him back to the station? Not likely. She might be willing to deal with this hassle, but her mentor probably wouldn't be.

A rookie cop like her, just assigned to a unit, always works under the guidance of a veteran officer, called a mentor internally. If she's a police station officer, her mentor definitely wouldn't want to take on this kind of case, because there's no merit in it. At best, it's a street fight, not even a public security case, let alone a criminal one. If it doesn't count as a case, there's no achievement to be had. No matter how well or thoroughly you handle it, it's just routine work. Police at the station don't like these cases. If they get a report, they have to respond, but if there's no report and they just break up the fight, who would bother bringing both parties back to the station? Do you think the police have nothing better to do?

If she's from the sub-bureau, no matter which department, she has even less authority to handle something like what Brian Carter did. At most, she could notify the police station in charge of the area to deal with it. The thing is, sub-bureau officers and police station officers are on the same level—there's no hierarchy. Everyone in the system knows this. Why would you go out of your way to make trouble for a colleague? Would they appreciate it?

Even if the thief's nasal bone really was broken and it counted as minor injury, making it a criminal case, she still couldn't do much to him. As long as he didn't go out of his way to offend her, she'd prefer to avoid extra trouble. After all, he'd already made it clear that his family was also in the system. If she insisted on prosecuting him, she'd be deliberately making an enemy of a colleague, turning it from a case into a personal grudge.

Chapter 0012: Team Up to Take Her Down!

The main thing is, for minor injuries like this, the normal way to handle it at the police station always includes the option for both parties to settle privately. As long as the victim doesn't insist on official proceedings, if you pay some medical expenses and lost wages, and both parties sign a settlement agreement, it can't go to public prosecution. This is the official procedure—no one can say anything about it.

Would that thief go all out to accuse him? Absolutely not. He'd gain nothing and would end up offending someone in the police system, which could be a huge problem for him. For a petty thief like him, not getting hauled into the station a few times a year would be considered slacking off. If someone in the police system started watching him, even small things could become big problems. Why would he take that risk? That policewoman isn't his mother. In the end, he probably wouldn't even ask for much compensation. He'd just take the beating for nothing, chalking it up to bad luck for messing with the wrong person—a professional mistake.

Is this considered corruption or perverting the law? Not really. Everything is out in the open—there's no under-the-table deal. That's just how things work in reality. If every little thing had to go through the judicial process, police departments everywhere would need to expand their staff several times over, or else there wouldn't be enough people. And it's not just about manpower—detention centers would need to be massively expanded too. Otherwise, you couldn't keep everyone at the police station, and that's neither feasible nor legal.

Of course, if Brian Carter didn't understand any of this, the thief had no concerns, and the policewoman insisted on making a big deal out of it, then Brian Carter really would become the defendant and might have to spend ten days or half a month in detention. But once it went to court, it would still end with probation and compensation, wasting a ton of public resources for the same result.

Strict law enforcement is a noble goal, but achieving it requires a lot of prerequisites. It's not as simple as shouting slogans—it involves all sorts of factors. Just ask the police if they'd be happy to spend every day chasing after these trivial matters. Their workload is already maxed out. If you pile even more on them, not even an iron man could handle it.