Chapter 343 Protest Parade
Slightly earlier.
The victims of the fire in the South Bank Industrial Zone and the factory owners who lost their industries for no reason watched helplessly as the surviving factories still standing on the burned ruins were operating day and night, producing a large amount of fresh and hot goods and taking away what was rightfully theirs. Orders and money.
Taking someone's money away is tantamount to killing your parents.
The factory owners, who had repeatedly asked Scotland Yard to provide the results of the fire investigation but received no follow-up, became increasingly frustrated and angry.
So at a certain victim gathering meeting, under the touching speech of a victim whose face could not be recalled, they decided to unite and hold a march to protest.
They asked the industrial factory owners still standing on the ruins, or the British government, or whoever else took the blame... In short, they must find a culprit to compensate them for their losses, compensation for their equipment costs, lost work costs and Workers’ Compensation.
What? You said that this was most likely a fire caused by our failure to pay attention to safety rules. If we had paid attention to fire prevention, this situation would definitely not have happened.
"Yes, as long as we take precautionary measures, at least the fire will not spread as badly as the night before yesterday - ah, don't hit me in the face!!!"
The person who made these remarks was already suppressed by the furious victims before he finished speaking, and was beaten until his nose was bruised and his face was swollen, and he never dared to utter such cowardly remarks again.
The factory owners gathered their employees who had lost their jobs and their friends and family members who died in the fire to form a large team of hundreds of people and resolutely held up the slogans "Give me my job," "Expose the truth about the fire," and "Down with all evil." A series of eye-catching placards such as "Aristocraticism" and "Blood debt must be paid with blood" are like an indestructible team marching towards the city center.
This impassioned parade chanted touching words along the way, attracting the attention of many passers-by. Some of the words clearly touched some citizens who felt the same way.
Especially some young people who are full and have nothing to do. Their blood vessels are filled with male hormones that have nowhere to go. They are worried that the numb labor life every day is really boring.
At this moment, seeing these passionate marchers holding banners and slogans and shouting the words of the founding of the government, especially the beautifully dressed ladies in the procession, the passionate young people resolutely threw themselves into this lively protest march. Activity.
But in fact, this group of people held up the words "Prostitutes' lives matter!" ’ ‘We need the truth! ’ ‘When can the Ripper be arrested? ! ’ ‘Is London still safe? ! ’ ‘East London is London too! ’ The ladies with the placard were not victims of the South Bank Industrial Park fire, but potential victims of another horrific case.
They were all prostitutes who sold their bodies near the Whitechapel area of East London.
Due to the recent spate of Ripper cases - because the terrible murderer prefers to disembowel prostitutes, the fearful residents of the Whitechapel area now call him the Ripper.
As of this morning, six sisters have died tragically at the hands of the Ripper. The horrific scene of the sixth corpse found in the muddy alley this morning has deeply penetrated the hearts of the people in the Whitechapel area. .
Any prostitute who witnessed the murder scene could not help but imagine the scene of being disemboweled. Their legs were so frightened that they felt weak and trembling, as if there was a smelly and hot liquid flowing down the hem of their skirts.
This group of flesh workers gathered together in private and discussed in low voices.
"This pervert, Farke...actually arranges the victim's body to look like a disemboweled Saint Mary every time...Is it satirizing us? Don't we want to be chaste women? Don't we want to be at home with peace of mind? Are we willing to sell our bodies to those dirty guys?”
"Hey If it weren't for the sake of living, which woman would be willing to sell her dignity?"
"Sigh... If it weren't for my little Connor, I wouldn't be willing to do this job... Maybe I would have jumped into the Thames River to end this painful life..."
"No, we can't stay in this place any longer... If we stay any longer, the next victim might be one of us."
"Do you want to escape? Escape to work in other areas? I heard that the tavern in the next area is doing well and needs people like us to solve the troubles of drunken guests."
"What a great idea. Can we all go together?"
"Okay! Since the Whitechapel area is so dangerous, then we might as well all go to other places to work... This way, no more sisters will die."
This suggestion was agreed by all the ladies, who were determined to evacuate the dangerous Whitechapel area collectively and stay away from the crazy Ripper.
However, at this time, a sister who did not know when she joined in poured cold water on her, "But if we all leave the Whitechapel area, then the Ripper will no longer be able to find a suitable crime target, will it happen?" If we move the target directly to other areas, wouldn’t it be equally dangerous for us? And the Ripper is very likely to follow us. Wouldn’t it be easier for him to attack us in groups now?”
"The most important thing is, although you sisters can go to other places to work, don't your families live near Whitechapel? So as long as we live here, we will definitely not be able to avoid the danger of being attacked by the Ripper!" This cold water was poured on the heads of this group of miserable women who had just ignited hope, and their faces were once again covered with a thick layer of gloom and sadness. An indignant woman questioned, "Then what do you think we should do? No matter where we go to work, we can't escape the danger of being disemboweled?!!" The sister whose face and experience seemed a little vague in the memories of a group of prostitutes smiled as sweetly as always, and suggested: "Why don't we hold a march to protest to Scotland Yard? Ask them to immediately increase the investigation and patrol force, or at least arrange patrolmen to patrol near Whitechapel at night, so that we will be safer when we come back in the morning." This whimsical idea was ridiculed by other prostitutes on the spot. They all laughed and asked this sister, "Have you forgotten who we are?" We are not the noble ladies of London, we are just prostitutes living at the bottom of London society!
We are few in number, our demonstrations and protests have no power, how can the masters of Scotland Yard listen to us? !