He was Jack Reynolds, the branch chairman of the dockworkers' Union.
He'd worked on the docks for thirty years. His father and grandfather had worked here, too.
He commanded absolute respect among the workers.
Reynolds snatched the newspaper, his rough, large hands nearly crushing the paper.
He stared intently at the headline, the muscles in his face twitching.
He remembered how Frank Kovalsky had once sworn to him that Leo was a trustworthy kid who would put the workers' interests first.
Reynolds had believed him.
He had rallied the brothers on the docks to vote for Leo, even personally driving retired old-timers with mobility issues to the polling stations on Election Day.
Now, this newspaper was telling him he was a fool.
He'd been tricked.
The shame of this betrayal enraged him more than the fear of unemployment.
"Chairman, what do we do?" a worker next to him asked, his eyes red. "Are we just supposed to wait around to be laid off?"
