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A blue sky with thin, wispy clouds stretched on over a fountain that sprayed water into the air. People had gathered in the grass that surrounded that fountain: reporters with camera drones that floated over their shoulders, political aides who shuffled about and, of course, the odd spectator.
A man in gray pants and a blue jacket with silver trim along its high collar stood before them all, the centre of attention. Square-jawed and stern, Jeral Dusep surveyed the crowd before speaking. “Please…Please,” he said to quiet the hum of voices. “I know that we are all grieving.”
Turning slightly, he gestured to the fountain behind him while keeping his eyes fixed upon his audience. “Five days ago, this place was the site of a tragedy.” Murmurs rose up in response to that. “A tragedy perpet
