On the day of the second hearing, the scene in front of Pittsburgh City Hall was completely different from a week ago.
Hundreds of citizens had gathered in the square, holding various signs.
"Our community is not a commodity!"
"Mayor Carter Wright, stop selling out Pittsburgh's soul!"
"We stand with the Steel Worker Community Center!"
Frank and his old buddies, wearing jackets with Union logos, were maintaining order among the crowd.
News vans from over a dozen local and national media outlets were parked at the edge of the square, an arsenal of cameras aimed at the doors of City Hall.
The atmosphere inside the hearing room had also undergone a dramatic transformation.
The public gallery was packed, filled with community supporters and reporters.
The chairman of the City Planning Commission, Robert Jennings, no longer wore the relaxed, casual air he'd had last time. He seemed restless, constantly dabbing the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
Allen Wexler, the lawyer for Peak Development Group, remained in his seat, a professional smile fixed on his face. His eyes, however, lacked their previous confidence, replaced by a hint of solemnity.
When Leo led the community representatives into the hearing room, a burst of applause erupted from the gallery.
Leo nodded to the crowd, then walked to the speaker's lectern.
This time, there was no trace of nervousness or uncertainty in his eyes.
Chairman Jennings struck his gavel, declaring the hearing open.
Leo rose immediately and approached the lectern.
"Mr. Chairman, before we discuss any substantive issues, we request that the committee first examine the new evidence that has come to light since the last hearing."
Jennings's gaze immediately shot to Allen Wexler.
Wexler, still smiling, gave Jennings an almost imperceptible nod.
Jennings looked away, cleared his throat, and said to Leo, "Please present your evidence, Mr. Wallace."
Leo produced the documents he had prepared.
"According to the Pittsburgh City 'Ordinance on the Disposal of City Assets,' Article 11, Section B, for assets of non-profit organizations that serve a public community function, City Hall must issue a public notice at least 60 days prior to the auction in no fewer than three local public media outlets."
He placed a photocopy of the legal statute on the overhead projector so everyone could see it clearly.
"The fact is," Leo continued, "City Hall's public notice period this time was only 45 days. Furthermore, it was only posted on the official city government website and in a small community paper with extremely low circulation. This is a serious violation of statutory procedure."
"Therefore, we contend that the entire auction process was illegal and invalid from the very beginning!"
The moment he finished speaking, a wave of supportive murmurs rose from the gallery.
Wexler shot to his feet.
"Objection," he said. "Mr. Wallace's interpretation of the statute is flawed. The term 'public media' mentioned in the ordinance is not explicitly defined. The official city website and the community newspaper also qualify as public media. As for the notice period, that was likely a minor clerical error that doesn't impact the overall legality of the auction."
He was attempting to use his trademark sophistry to obscure the issue.
But this time, Leo didn't fall into his trap.
Thanks to Roosevelt's guidance, Leo was well-prepared for these potential counterarguments.
"Mr. Wexler, are you insulting the intelligence of everyone in this room?" Leo's tone became confrontational. "The legislative intent behind 'public media' is to ensure information reaches the widest possible audience. Can a government website with only a few hundred daily visitors and a community paper subscribed to by only a few hundred senior citizens be compared to the Pittsburgh Chronicle with its circulation of hundreds of thousands, or a local TV station with millions of viewers?"
"As for your so-called 'minor error,' that's a joke. Being off by one day is an error. Being off by fifteen days is deliberate deception! The goal was to prevent more citizens from learning about this, so your client could complete this dirty deal at the lowest possible cost!"
Leo cited his sources and didn't give an inch.
He laid out the relevant legal precedents, one after another.
In a debate on pure legal procedure, this history student, who had spent a few days holed up in the library, was going toe-to-toe with a battle-hardened top lawyer, and even seemed to be gaining the upper hand.
Beads of sweat began to form on Wexler's forehead.
He realized that the young man before him was a world away from the passive greenhorn he'd faced at the hearing a week ago.
Just as Wexler prepared to offer another rebuttal, Leo changed his tack.
He didn't get bogged down in legal minutiae.
He knew the anonymous meeting minutes were his trump card, but it wasn't the right time to play it.
He pressed the power button on the projector.
The large screen in the hearing room lit up.
"Mr. Chairman, Mr. Wexler. I believe our debate on the legal statutes has been sufficiently clear."
"Now, I would like you, and everyone else present, to see something else."
"Something about what this auction truly means."
"Objection!"
Allen Wexler's voice rang out as he shot to his feet.
"Mr. Chairman, I must remind you, this is a legal hearing on municipal auction procedures, not a community rec room for showing home videos."
His tone was filled with urgency.
"Whatever Mr. Wallace intends to show is irrelevant to the legal issues of this hearing. Its sole purpose is emotional manipulation, which does nothing to help resolve the legal questions. I request that the Chairman immediately put a stop to this unprofessional, time-wasting behavior."
All eyes in the room focused on Chairman Jennings.
The reporters' cameras pivoted from Leo and Wexler to the chairman's dais.
A fresh sheen of sweat broke out on Chairman Jennings's forehead.
He could feel the immense pressure from the hundreds of pairs of eyes in the room, and he could see the constant flashing of the reporters' cameras.
He knew that if he granted Wexler's request now, tomorrow's headline would be "City Hall Chairman Refuses to Hear Citizens' Voices."
That would be a disaster for his political career.
He cleared his throat and brought the gavel down hard.
"Mr. Wexler's objection has been noted for the record."
His voice was much louder than before, as if to conceal his own nervousness.
"However, considering the immense public attention this case has generated, the committee has decided to grant Mr. Wallace the opportunity to present his background materials."
He turned to Leo and added,
"Please be brief, Mr. Wallace."
Leo nodded at the dais, then pressed the play button.
The "Pittsburgh Heart" logo lit up on the large screen.
The first person to appear was a scar-covered Vietnam veteran.
He spoke to the camera, recounting how he was tormented by nightmares and alcohol after returning from the war, and how the community center's support group had pulled him back from the brink of collapse.
The second person to appear was a single mother who worked in a restaurant.
With tears in her eyes, she described how her child, who has a reading disability, read a complete sentence to her for the first time in the community center's tutoring class.
A third, a fourth...
One after another, the stories of ordinary Pittsburgh residents played out on the screen.
The entire hearing room fell silent.
The reporters, who had been whispering just moments before, stopped talking.
They simply raised their cameras, recording every face on the screen, and the faces of the residents in the gallery, who were moved to silent tears.
When the video ended,
Leo turned off the projector.
He turned to face Allen Wexler, his gaze burning.
He asked the killer question.
"Mr. Wexler, your legal knowledge is impeccable. You are an excellent lawyer."
"But now, can you, before all of Pittsburgh, answer a non-legal question for me?"
"Is your client, Peak Development Group, really prepared to use the tears of these people, the nightmares of these veterans, and the hopes of these single mothers to water the expensive lawn in front of their future luxury apartment building?"
Allen Wexler was at a loss for words.
He couldn't answer the question.
He could argue the law, he could explain procedure.
But he couldn't, with all the cameras on him, deny the raw emotion and humanity in that video.
He opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.
The atmosphere in the room became incredibly awkward.
Seeing that the situation had spun completely out of control, Chairman Jennings frantically banged his gavel on the desk.
"Order! Order!"
"In light of the new evidence regarding the auction procedure presented at today's hearing, and the widespread public concern it has generated..."
He glanced at the pale-faced Wexler, then at the calm and composed Leo.
He made his choice.
"I declare this hearing... adjourned! The final disposition of the community center will be... will be discussed at a later date!"
After he finished, he beat a hasty retreat from the dais.
Leo and the community residents walked out of City Hall.
They were met by the deafening cheers of the hundreds of residents in the square outside.
They were chanting Leo's name and shouting, "Long live the community!"
Margaret and Frank came forward and hugged Leo tightly.
They had won the second round.
But Leo's face showed little joy.
He knew this was only a temporary truce.
The fight was far from over.