Chapter 204: Medal Of Freedom

Burbank High School's front entrance was a solemn place.

The LAPD's alert had been lifted, and since the early hours of dawn, the citizens of Los Angeles arrived to lay flowers and pay their respects to the victims.

A modest Volkswagen pulled up to the side of the road. Martin stepped out of the car, clutching a bouquet of flowers. He walked somberly to the school gate, removed his sunglasses, and placed the flowers in the memorial area.

Like the others who were offering flowers at the same time, he observed a moment of silence facing the campus.

Many onlookers recognized Martin and glanced his way. An elderly lady with white hair approached him with open arms, and Martin embraced her gently.

"Child, don't be too disheartened. You did a good deed," the old woman consoled him. "May God bless each and every one of us." Martin broke away from the embrace, his face bearing a grave expression and reddened eyes, still deeply immersed in grief.

Others came over, offering handshakes and hugs, offering words of solace.

"You did your best."

"You're a true hero, kid."

"No one could have done better than you."

Martin remained silent, as if the weight of his sorrow was about to consume him.

Of course, in a place like this where flowers paid tribute, media reporters were a constant presence, capturing every moment with their cameras.

A reporter approached, wanting to interview him, but Martin politely declined.

Martin then walked back to his car, his back turned to the camera.

His posture was slightly hunched, as though he carried the weight of Los Angeles on his shoulders.

As the Volkswagen departed, numerous entertainment reporters and paparazzi followed in pursuit.

Shortly after, the car came to a halt in front of a renowned psychological clinic, and Martin entered the clinic accompanied by his agent, Thomas.

"No matter how strong a person is, there are moments of vulnerability," remarked a female reporter to her assistant. "I hope he doesn't have any mental issues like PTSD."

After taking the photos, the assistant, with a sly grin, speculated, "What if he's just putting on an act? Perhaps he's secretly thrilled with all the sudden fame."

The female reporter retorted, "He saved sixteen people! No matter what you say, that fact remains."

Martin's psychological state was, of course, stable. Thomas was merely concerned, so he accompanied Martin to see a psychiatrist. Given Martin's actual state, the conversation was quite casual.

Thomas received a call while waiting for Martin to finish his session. Once Martin emerged and they were in the car, Thomas shared the news, "The company just received a call from Coca-Cola headquarters. Coca-Cola wants to invite you to be their North American spokesperson."

Bruce, who was driving, couldn't help but chuckle, "Coke, the god of endorsements!"

Martin cautioned, "Let's discuss it, but don't make it public immediately. Announcing it now might give the impression that I'm profiting from a tragic event. I've been high-profile enough lately; I should maintain a lower profile as a person."

Thomas understood Martin's perspective. "Negotiations won't be swift. It's just preliminary contact for now. It will take some time to finalize the deal. In a few days, I'll accompany you to Atlanta for a movie shoot, and we can meet with Coca-Cola's representatives there."

Naturally, Martin wouldn't turn down Coca-Cola. Given the current stance of the Coca-Cola Cult, he could demand a seven-figure endorsement fee.

"They say I'm a hero in Los Angeles, yet I don't even have a house here," Martin mused.

Bruce checked the time and switched on the car radio. The representative from the White House, George Bush, was scheduled to give a televised speech on the Burbank Middle School incident at 10:30 in the morning.

...

In the White House Press Room in Washington, D.C.

George Bush addressed the camera with a heavy heart, acknowledging that many families had lived through a terrible nightmare the day before. Flags across the country were flown at half-mast in mourning. He promised that the authorities would take more decisive measures to safeguard the safety of schools, teachers, and students.

When a reporter questioned him about gun control, George W. Bush stated frankly, "Honestly, there's not much I can do that Martin Davis hasn't already done. He managed to subdue a gunman and save sixteen lives. I can offer prayers and condolences, but that's about it."

Another reporter pointed out, "Grief and prayers won't stop bullets."

George Bush found a shield to deflect further discussion on gun control. "Martin Davis averted a larger tragedy," he steered the conversation. "I'm glad to see a hero like Martin Davis step forward. He's a young man who embodies America's hope. I recommend him for the Presidential Medal of Freedom!" This prestigious honor, the highest a civilian can receive, is bestowed annually by the President of the United States.

The reporters' focus shifted instantly to Martin Davis, no longer pressing questions about gun control.

After the press conference, the White House forwarded Martin's information to the Committee on Distinguished Civilian Service, which compiled a list of nominees. George W. Bush would make the final decision.

...

In a Los Angeles villa, Angelina Julie watched the live TV news and pondered.

The Presidential Medal of Freedom was one of the highest federal honors a civilian could receive. Bush's mention of it during the press conference indicated more than just capitalizing on Martin's popularity; he genuinely intended to award it.

After all, it was a medal granted by the President himself.

Julie couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. It would be a perfect addition to her planned trajectory, and it would elevate her image beyond the realm of movies.

How many Hollywood actors have received this honor? Angelina Julie pondered the question and could only recall two individuals: Audrey Hepburn and the esteemed black actor Sidney Poitier.

Her cellphone interrupted her thoughts, a call from Brad Pitt.

"Hi, tonight? Isn't your wife with you?" Julie's gaze remained fixed on the TV. Once again, the news displayed Martin's heroic rescue from the previous day. For some inexplicable reason, she suddenly found Peter, the caller on the other end of the line, dull and offered a casual excuse, "I have an important script discussion tonight and won't be able to go out. Let's plan for another day."

Peter, on the other end, was disappointed but didn't press further.

Julie hung up the phone and set it on the sofa. She felt that Martin's warmth was absent for the moment.

Originally, she had hoped to leverage Martin's fame to ignite her own career.

Julie stood up, approached the window, picked up a newspaper, and found Martin's face within its pages.

Martin was everywhere.

Julie calmed herself and reassured that the filming of "Wanted" was about to commence. As a student, she had ample time to seek guidance from Teacher Martin.

...

Two days later, at Los Angeles City Hall.

The Presidential Medal of Freedom was yet to be determined, and even if it were, it would need to be presented before Independence Day. However, the city of Los Angeles wasted no time in confirming an honor of its own.

In order to steer the public's perception, Los Angeles City Hall and the City Council expedited the recognition of Martin.

Accompanied by Thomas, Martin attended the memorial service at Town Hall Square.

McClain, the LAPD's public relations specialist, remained at Martin's side.

Before the formal proceedings began, Martin and McClain were interviewed by various television networks, including the Los Angeles Times, Warner Television, CNN, and NBC, near the podium.

After three days of silence, Martin finally spoke a few words, lending his support to the LAPD.

His voice was soft and hoarse, tinged with profound sorrow. "I've wanted to express my gratitude to the LAPD, but I've faced some psychological struggles in the past few days, rendering me unable to communicate with others." Many reporters present were aware of Martin's visits to a psychiatrist.

Martin continued, "With the help of doctors, I've gradually recovered and can finally say thank you to the LAPD. My companions and I were cornered by a gunman in a corridor. At the most critical moment, it was the LAPD who saved us."

McClain quickly interjected, "No, it was Martin who saved sixteen people, subdued two gunmen, and cooperated with the LAPD to neutralize the final assailant. It's the LAPD that should be thanking Martin!" For them, all credit for averting the tragedy belonged to Martin and the LAPD.

The memorial service commenced shortly after. After a moment of silence, Los Angeles Mayor Villaraigosa took the stage and delivered a heartfelt speech: "Over the past three days, all of Los Angeles has been shrouded in sorrow..."

He continued with a string of words, wiping away tears as he moved to the rear.

Movie stars often ventured into politics.

Grief wasn't the focal point of the event, and Villaraigosa added, "We cannot forget a single victim, injured person, traumatized individual, or affected family. Nor can we forget those who came to Los Angeles' aid. Martin Davis, a simple actor, an ordinary young man, faced gunfire from gangsters and bravely saved sixteen lives. He is a hero, Los Angeles' hero." The mayor lifted his gaze towards the sun, as though seeking hope, and declared, "During that dark time, Martin Davis was our sun! Los Angeles will always remember Martin Davis, and on behalf of the city, I confer upon him the title of Honorary Citizen!"

Villaraigosa summoned Martin Davis: "Please, Martin Davis!"

McClain guided Martin to the stage, where he received the golden key symbolizing honorary citizenship from Antonio.

The entire square erupted in warm applause.

The public had witnessed the video footage and believed their own eyes. Martin held the golden key, approached the microphone vacated by Villaraigosa, and struggled to speak, his voice soft and hoarse, as if overwhelmed by grief: "I'm sorry, I did my best..." But he couldn't finish the sentence and broke into tears: "I... I'm sorry, I can't speak anymore..."

With that, Martin turned and left the stage.

Initially, there was silence in the square, and then someone shouted, "Martin, you're amazing!"

"You should be proud!"

The voice was quickly drowned out by applause, which continued warmly for several minutes.