Chapter 47 — Shrimp Street Without Name

The large meeting room of the Provincial People's Council was packed with people on the morning of the questioning session, much more crowded than the group initially expected. In addition to the official delegates, there were also the presence of a number of press reporters, including Minh Khang, and representatives of several social organizations interested in coastal land issues.

Hai Yen sat in the row reserved for related people, along with Kien and lawyer Hoang. Her heart beat faster when she saw the other side of the hall, where two lawyers representing Dai Duong sat next to a man she immediately recognized: Mr. Bao, appearing publicly for the first time before an elected body since the incident broke out.

Ms. Lan began her questioning on time, her voice rang out clearly and coherently in the solemn space of the hall. She presented each point, based entirely on the summary that Hai Yen and lawyer Hoang had painstakingly prepared: from the situation of unusually cheap land collection after the collapse of the Kenh Ba cooperative ten years ago, to the signs of fraud in recent test results, and even the existence of the Cua Bien Project with complex satellite companies behind it.

“I ask the representative of Ocean Group to clearly explain the connection between these events,” Ms. Lan concluded, her voice sharp. "And I ask the Provincial People's Committee to consider suspending all approval procedures related to the Cua Bien Project until there is an official investigation conclusion."

One of Dai Duong's two lawyers stood up, his voice calm and professional. "Madam delegate, our client fully respects the ongoing investigation process, and will fully cooperate with the authorities. However, we object to making accusations that have not yet been officially concluded in a public forum like this, which could seriously damage the reputation of a business that is creating jobs for thousands of local workers."

The debate was tense for nearly an hour, with arguments going back and forth between Ms. Lan and lawyer Dai Duong. At one point, the meeting chairman, perhaps sensing a deadlock in the purely legal discussion, decided to directly invite the relevant person to speak.

"I propose to invite Ms. Do Hai Yen, who directly collected most of the evidence in this case, to present a few words to the council," the chairman said, his eyes directed towards Hai Yen.

Hai Yen stood up, her heart was beating rapidly, but her steps were still steady as she walked to the front of the hall. She looked around and saw the eyes of hundreds of people watching her - curiosity, suspicion, but also support from familiar faces: Kien, lawyer Hoang, Minh Khang, and even Ms. Sau sitting quietly at the end of the hall, her eyes full of pride and worry.

“Dear council,” Hai Yen began, her voice shaking slightly at first but quickly regaining her steadiness. “I am the daughter of Mr. Do Van Tien, former head of Kenh Ba shrimp farming cooperative, who was convicted ten years ago in a case that I believe was partly staged by the same people standing across this hall today.”

A low murmur spread throughout the hall. Hai Yen took a deep breath and continued to present, not shying away from anything, even the most difficult part — the truth about the small batch of goods that her father had ceded many years before the big case happened.

"I say this," she said, her voice remaining calm despite her emotions, "not to defend myself or seek pity. I say it because I believe the truth, however imperfect, however complicated, is always more valuable than any edited story. My father made mistakes, but he also had the courage to stand up against wrong when he recognized it, and he paid with his life for that courage."

The whole hall was absolutely silent, only Hai Yen's voice rang out, slowly but full of weight, recounting the entire journey she had gone through for nearly two months, from initial doubts to concrete evidence, from personal fear to the determination to stand up for a community much larger than just her family.

“I don't stand here today just to talk about my father,” she continued, her voice echoing further in the stillness of the hall. "I stand here to talk about Ms. Ut Phuong, who kept a notebook for ten years just because she believed the truth deserved to be known. I talk about Mr. Kien, who lost his younger brother in an accident that I believe is not as simple as the official records record. I talk about Mr. Tu Hanh's family in Quang Ngai, who went through exactly what my family went through, seven years ago, in a land hundreds of kilometers away, but with the same scenario. same model, just different name.”

She looked straight at Mr. Bao, who was sitting silently, his face no longer maintaining its familiar calmness. "I'm not here to demand revenge. I'm here to demand the truth, and to ask a simple question: how many other families, in how many other lands across this country, have paid and are paying for the same pattern of benefits that we're talking about today?"

That question hung in the air in the hall for a long time, no one responded immediately. The chairman of the meeting, after a moment of solemn silence, thanked Hai Yen, then invited Dai Duong's representative to respond.

Mr. Bao, instead of letting the lawyer continue to speak on his behalf, suddenly stood up and asked permission to speak for himself. The whole hall was silent before this unexpected action. He stood there for a long moment, as if considering every word he was about to say.

“I cannot deny all the allegations,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, completely different from the confident image the public is used to seeing. “But I also want the council to understand that every decision I have made over the years, no matter how wrong, came from a situation that was much more complex than what can be presented in a short questioning session like this.”

That half-hearted statement, both an admission and an excuse, made the whole hall stir. The Chairman, realizing that the situation was tense enough, decided to pause the questioning session, transfer the entire content to a specialized committee for further consideration, and at the same time officially approved Ms. Lan's proposal to suspend approval procedures related to the Cua Bien Project until there is a clear investigation conclusion.

When the hammer hits at the chairman's table, marking the end of the session, the whole hall burst into endless whispers. Hai Yen stood silently for a moment in the speaking position, feeling like all the strength in her body had just been drained after moments of extreme tension. Kien was the first person to run up and hug her in the crowd that was gradually dispersing.

“You did it,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. "The project is paused, Yen. You just saved an entire land from a disaster that could have happened."

Mrs. Sau also rushed forward, hugged her daughter, her tears kept falling. "I'm so proud of you, Yen. Your father, if he were still alive, would definitely be equally proud of you."

Lawyer Hoang, although maintaining his usual calm and professional appearance, could not hide the bright smile on his lips. "This is a big victory, but we need to remember, this is just the beginning. The specialized committee will take time to reach a final conclusion, and the other side will certainly not give up easily."

Minh Khang, making his way through the crowd of reporters surrounding Hai Yen, could only wink at her from afar, signaling that he would contact her later to discuss the next article, an article that would certainly be titled the historical questioning session that had just taken place.

Amid all that emotional chaos, Hai Yen looked towards Mr. Bao and saw him being escorted out of the hall by two lawyers through a private entrance, avoiding all cameras and questions. In the moment their eyes met from afar, she saw no hatred or bitterness in his eyes, but only a deep fatigue, almost relief, of someone who had carried a secret burden for so long, and was now finally starting to face it, albeit much later than he should have done ten years ago.