Opinion: A Client, A Cell Phone And A Threat
"No you don't," I answer. "Unless that is your doctor prescribing you life-saving medicine you need to stay alive right now, you're not answering the phone. What we're doing here is important. Give me your phone."
I've not felt such a smug sense of righteousness since I last grounded one of our children for some infraction against what passes for my sense of order.
He hands me the phone, and I place it in my lap.
The infernal toy begins to buzz, a text message brightening the screen. I ignore the message displayed.
Then the phone buzzes again, and then again.
I look down.
"If you tell the reporter anything more about me, your life will get much worse," the message reads. Am I really reading a threat of some sort conveyed to a young man in the midst of speaking to the FBI?
Tense and privileged discussions follow. We agree to let the FBI search his phone. As we're doing so, the phone rings. I answer it.
"You tell him he better not talk about me," a caller says, after I identify myself and explain my client was otherwise occupied.
It was supposed to be downtime, but it ended up as anything but that. A whole new world of chaos opened in a moment, and now, I suspect, my next trip to the big city will be anything but a joy ride.