Media Matters Ch. 01

"Or it might destroy it." I said. "Mitt Bain Willis is no fool. He's already been doing 'security upgrades' on BigAgraFoods computers. I strongly suspect that passwords have been changed, algorithms changed, and possible destruct codes planted if we just plug into their system and don't have the right secondary codes."

"That's very possible, sir." said Mary. "Additionally, it's more likely that the program has to be run from a laptop that a BigAgraFoods executive would have, as opposed to accessing their main systems. Kind of a PGP... public code on the main, private code on the laptop." I nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Can you make copies of that jump drive?" asked Cardigan. Mary looked at me.

"We already have." I said. "We've also entered the data into our evidence servers in quadruplicate, so it's never going anywhere." I nodded to Mary, who handed out jump drives to everyone.

"So close... yet so far." said Jack Muscone. The DepDirector and I just glanced at each other.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Not to let this opportunity go to waste, I herded the law enforcement cats into vans. We drove to the City, to the office of Lloyd Feingold. We arrived at 11:30am.

"It's still taped off, and guarded." said City Police Detective Tony Long. "BigAgraFoods went ballistic on that, tried to get the warrants revoked, but the judge in the case, Judge Anthony Howell, is getting really pissed off with their antics. He lowered the boom on BigAgraFoods, almost put Mitt Willis in jail for Contempt of Court."

"Good." I said. "Okay, what I'm looking for is some kind of server or external drive. I see five pot lights up here behind the desk. Not much good for lighting for someone sitting at the desk."

"They're more for ambience, we believe." said Special Agent Martin Nash. He went over and closed the curtains to the windows, blocking out the sunlight. "When they're on, they provide light to see to walk around, but like you said Commander, I wouldn't want to do paperwork if that was my only light."

As I faced the desk, I saw doors in the back wall where the side walls came to meet that back wall. "Where do these back doors go?" I asked.

"The one to the left as you're looking at it is an executive washroom." said Nash. "The one to the right is a storeroom and coat closet. We've gone through both rooms thoroughly."

"No drop ceiling in this bathroom, I see." I said as I went to the bathroom door and opened it. The bathroom had a television inside, as well as a small shower and a telephone. I declined to consider why someone would want to do business while sitting on the potty doing one's business.

"What's this switch?" I asked, seeing a black switch with black cover plate on the black-painted wall next to the bathroom door.. I flipped the switch up. The pot light on my end, and only that pot light, went off.

I had E.J. Jefferson go to the main bank of light switches at the front of the room. When he flipped one switch, all the pot lights went off. My flipping of the one switch had no effect. Then E.J. turned the pot lights back on, and my switch turned off-and-on the one pot light on the end.

"There are.... FOUR lights!" I said, in an imitation of Captain Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation (Author's note: Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!). "Now that is interesting." I said. "Don't you agree, Jack?"

"Yes I do." said Muscone, getting it. "If that pot light is turned off, the interference it may be generating would drop off."

A ladder was quickly procured by the City Police, after BigAgraFoods refused to provide one. And as we waited, Mitt Bain Willis and an entourage of lawyers, security, and assistants came in.

"What are you doing here?" Willis demanded to know. "How many months are you going to investigate poor Mr. Feingold's death and continue to find nothing?"

"As many as it takes, Willis." I replied. A moment later the ladder arrived. I set it up and climbed up, pushing aside one of the drop-ceiling tiles. "Okayyyy..." I said, mostly to myself, "there's a small wire from the pot light assembly.... and it leads to... oh my..."

Hidden under some insulation was a flat black box. I put on latex gloves and stepped further up, then reached over, needing the full length of my long arms, and secured it. It was a server!

Disconnecting the wire that was its power source, I brought down the server and what looked like a Wi-Fi or radio receiver.

"My, my, my." I said to Mitt Willis. "What have we here?"

"You're not taking that with you." snarled Willis. "Not without a new warrant."

"And how are you going to stop me from taking it?" I asked as I dusted it for prints. The purple dust showed nothing, even when lit up in the UV light. I then bagged the server in an evidence bag, with Jack Muscone videotaping it all.

Mitt's security had gone for their guns, but found that the City Police Officers and Martin Nash were a bit too quick for them and had their guns drawn and pointed at the security people's heads.

"I'd reconsider, Mittens." I said, using the insulting term Willis hated right to his face. "I'll kill you before your security can stop me, and just on account of your God damn bad manners. Let's go guys. Mittens, I'm sure we'll be talking again."

"Still haven't learned, have you Troy?" Mitt said. "The music plays on. The music plays on." His words were to my back as I left the office, the other LEOs following, with Nash and E.J. Jefferson bringing up the rear and not taking their eyes off Mitt's security until the door was closed...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"How did you find that?" asked Muscone as we came into the FBI suite of the Federal Building in the City.

"If all the pot lights are turned off with the front switch," I said, "the power to this server was also cut off, so its signature wasn't detected. But if you turn the pot lights on, then use the switch by the bathroom to cut off just that one pot light, the electricity to the server continued, and it was active. This transceiver device would then be able to accept Wi-Fi signals from Lloyd's computer."

"Pretty neat thinking on Feingold's part." said Ashton Cardigan as his people worked to set up the server with one of their computers. "Maybe he was able to get some files on it."

"I'm not counting on it." I said. It suddenly became quiet in the room.

"Why not?" asked the DepDirector.

"Two reasons." I said. "First, there were no fingerprints on the server or the transceiver. None. I expected to find Feingold's prints, but there were none. Second, Mitt Willis's little act in there. His attempt to stop us from taking it was a sham, and a dangerous one at that; we could've shot him and his people without so much as a blink of an eye. But he wanted us to think we'd found something big and he was pretending to try to fight to stop us from seeing what was on it."

"Please be wrong... for once." the DepDirector moaned. We all turned to the FBI cyber-experts. After a few minutes, they gave us their report.

"There's one file on it." a technician said. "Audio file."

"Oh no." said Muscone. "I'll bet Don can tell us what's on that file, too."

I nodded, and wrote something on a post-it note, and handed it to the DepDirector, who then said "Go ahead and play it."

The high-octave piano notes of a familiar piece of music began playing on the computer's speakers. The DepDirector showed Jack Muscone what I'd written, which was the song playing: Frank Mills's 'Music Box Dancer'.

"Willis's people found the server." I said. "And they left this little message for us. For me."

"So close." said Muscone. "Yet once again, so far away..."

Part 5 - Child Support

As Jack Muscone gave me a ride back home, my cellphone rang.

"Hi Don." said Cindy's voice. It sounded somber. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up. The Media's got the story of your payments to Paulina. Bettina's going to break it in two minutes. She called for our reaction."

"If you care to," I said, "give her this quote from the Duke of Wellington: 'Publish, and be damned!', unquote."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, with breaking news!" the redheaded reporterette said with tremendous excitement and happiness in her voice. "Fox Two News has just confirmed that the payments by Commander Donald Troy to Paulina Patterson are not campaign donations; they are child support payments!"

"Neither Commander Troy nor ADA Paulina Patterson have returned calls asking for comment," said Bettina, her smile huge, her face practically glowing, "but multiple sources tell Fox Two News that Donald Troy is indeed the biological father of Paulina Patterson's daughter Tasha!"

Bettina: "The payments were set up with approval of the Court, with Judge Rodney K. Watts signing off on the papers of the agreement! The account receiving the money is set up as a trust that pays a monthly stipend if it is withdrawn. Any money left over or not taken out accrues interest, and may be used for Tasha Patterson's college fund when she enrolls in College."

"While Commander Troy may have not broken the law this time," Bettina said, "this is still a huge breaking scandal! Fox Two News has also reached out to Dr. Laura Fredricson, Commander Troy's wife, but she has not returned our repeated calls for comment!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Captain Damien Thompson was facing a rabid Media in the TCPD Press Room, a Media that smelled blood and wanted to rip into people and destroy their lives forever. He waited until they had to draw breath, then said "I'll take questions one at a time, in an orderly and polite manner. Keep this crap up and we'll stand here all day. I'm getting paid either way."

"Is it true Don Troy is the father of Tasha Patterson?" yelled Priya Ajmani as the frenzied gang suddenly hushed.

"It's not like that's a secret, or ever was." said Captain Thompson. "It's right there on her birth certificate: Tasha Dionne Troy-Patterson. And I might add that the child support papers weren't secret, either; they're public Court documents, very easy to find... if you actually try."

"Does Commander Troy intend to press the libel lawsuit against KCTY?" asked Tim Sioban of KSB, who was KCTY's competition (such as that was).

"You better believe it." said Captain Thompson. "KCTY clearly libeled Commander Troy. They did not say 'alleged', and they could've easily confirmed that what they were saying was false, but they went with it anyway. Commander Troy intends to make them pay, as he will make any of you pay for continued slander against him and his family."

"How does Commander Troy's wife feel about her husband not only cheating on her, but fathering a child with another woman?" asked Lester Holder.

"Harrumph." said Captain Thompson. "She delivered the baby at University Hospital. Beyond that, I'm sure she can make her own statement."

"Where's Commander Troy?" shouted Brian Jennings. "Why isn't he here to answer these questions?"

"Commander Troy is currently working on solving a case, and------" he stopped as he noticed Commander Cindy Ross come in, followed by the other Commander, who was carrying a two-year-old child... and they were followed by the Head of the Psychology Department at the University. The shouts began, but I just shook my head until they shut up.

"I'll make a brief statement." I said. "I am holding this young lady Tasha, who I am very proud to say is my daughter. I not only do not deny it, I am proud to be her father, and I am just as proud of her as I am of my other children. There is nothing you animals of the Press can say that will cause me to deny my child or to not love her with all my heart."

"Furthermore," I said, "the libel KCTY committed against me and my child will be addressed in Court. I have filed suit against them. They attempted to retract the story and have the lawsuit dismissed, but I am happy to say that the judge overseeing the case has refused to let it drop. KCTY will answer in Court for its vicious falsehoods, and it's way past time you bastards of the Press were held to account for your reckless and propaganda-driven reporting. Now Dr. Fredricson has a statement to make?" Laura nodded and I gave her the podium.

"I want to be clear," Laura said, standing tall in the face of the hatred of the Enemy, "that I knew that my husband was the father of this child before she was born, that I delivered her myself, and that I love her very much, as if she were my own. As some of you in this room know, I had to undergo a hysterectomy after having my second child, and I know how precious children are."

Laura went on, anger creeping into her voice: "My husband and I have an honest, open relationship, and always have, and there is nothing you rabid assholes of the Press can say that will shame me. I love my husband, I stand proudly with him and with all of his children. Paulina Patterson is my friend, and she is a good person and a wonderful mother to this child. And this is the last I will say to any of you Media bastards concerning this matter."

As we left the room and went to my office, rabid shouts of "Where is Paulina Patterson? Why isn't she here?" could be heard from the totally-out-of-control Press.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"It was good," said Chief Moynahan, "in that you both not only faced them head-on, but made it clear you're not ashamed of your child." We were in the Chief's Conference Room, with Cindy and Captain Thompson, and Tasha, also in the meeting.

"What is not good," continued the Chief, "is that it seemed almost too quick, too pre-emptive. The Press will figure that out, and will come right back at you."

"I've already gotten a restraining order from Judge Watts." said Laura, who did not play when it came to threats like this. "The Press cannot approach to within 500 feet of me, nor 1000 feet of the Psychology Building, nor be filming on Campus while I'm on Campus, and they cannot be at University Hospital while I am there... except as patients, of course."

"Which I would not mind making happen." I said, not a shred of humor in my voice.

"We'd all like to make that happen." said Cindy.

"Dr. Wellman helped get the restraining order for Laura." I said. "He made it clear to the Press he was not brooking their shit with one of his professors."

"Wish we could get that for Police Headquarters." Cindy quipped. Tasha laughed, mostly at just hearing her cousin Cindy's voice.

"Where is ADA Patterson?" asked Captain Thompson. "She'll have to face the Media soon."

"She's at her Campaign Headquarters." I said. "I think they're trying to get a grip on the political side of it, see what to say. I told her what we'd be doing today, asked if she wanted to join us, and she said she'll wait to see how things shake out."

"I hope," said Chief Moynahan, "that this has not tor-peed-oed her cam-paignnnnn."

"When she ran," I said, "I asked her what she'd do if this came out. She was more worried how the Press would treat me, but she said she was willing to take the fallout. We'll see... the fallout is going to hit."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Amber Harris, KXTC Fox Two News at Six!" said the athletic blonde reporterette at 6:00pm, Tuesday June 3d. "After an intense news day that included a confrontational press conference at Police Headquarters, District Attorney candidate Paulina Patterson has finally made a statement regarding the parentage of her daughter."

Amber read the statement: "The statement reads: 'As he confirmed earlier today, Don Troy is the father of my child Tasha. I have no regrets about anything to do with my wonderful daughter, and I never tried to hide who her father is. The Press frenzy, attempting to make it sound like something is wrong with my daughter for having a good man like Don Troy as her father, is a new low for the Media, and explains why their status is so low in poll after poll.'."

"We have with us Dr. Romanov of the University's Institute for Political Policy." said Amber. "Dr. Romanov, how does this affect Ms. Patterson's campaign for District Attorney?"

"Amber, it's much worse for Commander Troy," said Romanov, "who is facing the Independent State Counsel investigation next week, and who also must answer to his wife for his adulterous liaison with Ms. Patterson."

"True," said Amber, "but what about the D.A. race?" said Amber. "How does this affect the race? Especially with her not denying anything..."

"We'll just have to see how voters react to a woman having an adulterous affair with a married man, and having a child by him." said Romanov, enjoying the salacious nature of what he was discussing. "Ms. Patterson was already on shaky ground with minorities, and considered to be a sellout against her own ethnicity. And now to be having a sexual affair with a white Police Officer well known for his abusive and racist tactics... it will be something voters will have to consider..."

Part 6 - The Spirit of Freedom

Wednesday, July 4th. Independence Day.

I was at the starting line for the Town & County Independence Day Triathlon. It was going to start at 8:00am. Then I'd have to hustle over to watch the start of the Wheelchair Race in Town.

"We're going to mark off the northbound section of University Avenue between Jefferson Avenue and Elm Street for the triathlon," explained Lt. Irwin the afternoon before, "and the southbound side will be for the wheelchair racers. They'll stay on in-Town streets otherwise, while the triathlon racers stay on the normal route." Sounded like a plan to me.

As I looked around, I saw the Defending Champions. Teresa and Todd were wearing matching white form-fitting athletic shirts and royal blue pants that were fairly snug swimming speedos. Many women were noticing Todd's considerable 'package' that bulged against his pants, and many men were noticing Teresa's large breasts straining the fabric of her shirt. They were also wearing matching race patches with the number "29" on them, which contained a zippered pouch to carry their baton.

And above the number, at the neckline of their shirts, was a patch that looked like a Scouting Merit Badge... it had a red border, black background, and stitched red diamonds emanating from a central point... the icon of Clan Troy.

"Nice patch." I said, pointing to Teresa's icon. "I have got to get me one of those!"

"We've got more." Todd replied.

"You guys ready to race?" I asked jovially.

"Always, sir." said Teresa. Todd nodded vigorously in agreement. Then I saw them straighten up, then bow.

Looking behind me, I saw why: Takaki Misaki was coming up to us. His son and daughter, Takaki Nagamasa and Takaki Mariko, were wearing athletic gear befitting racers.

"Konnichi-wa, Misaki-san. Konnichi-wa, Nagamasa, Mariko." I said, bowing to the elderly Japanese man and his offspring. He returned the bow with equal exactitude. Nagamasa and Marko bowed lower.

"Ah, Don-san, a very good morning to you." said Misaki. "We have a competition here, I believe."

"Yes, we do, Misaki-san." I said. "In my country, we place small wagers on such competitions."

"It is the same in my country, Don-san." said Misaki with a smile. "The losing Clan leader buys the saké at our celebration of America's birthday, neh?"

"Sounds good to me." I said. We shook hands on the bargain. Nagamasa and Mariko looked fearful. Misaki-san told them to do their best, and there was no loss of face in the outcome. I told Teresa and Todd, with a grin, to get out there and kick ass.

I looked around some more. There were Media people milling about, but they had (so far) avoided me. I also saw Brian Jennings of KSTD talking to Priya and other KSTD people. A young girl was with him, about ten years old. She looked to be his daughter, and she looked as happy to be with her dad as Carole was whenever she was with me in public...