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The trial of Clint Cargile began on July 4. On some level, Amber wanted to believe that this was a sign from the universe. Maybe, in addition to being the anniversary of the country's founding, it would also be their "independence day" from having to hear his name.
Those first few days, during which Amber had known him as Chris Courtland, had been nothing if not absurd. Now that the immediate danger seemed to be past, though, she was left with very little to do. And, as it turns out, anxiety and boredom can be a very dangerous combination.
Although Clint seemingly had every reason to retaliate against Amber for putting him behind bars, he clearly wasn't taking that chance. Of course, he probably figured that blowing the whistle on Danny and Rachel, two people who would never meet each other, would risk turning the jury against him. (To be fair, from the news Amber consumed, the case was pretty lopsided to begin with; the trial was mostly a formality).
In any case, if the authorities at Harvard knew anything about Rachel's academic dishonesty that they weren't already aware of, they didn't let on about it. A few weeks after the end of the semester, both girls received their transcripts from the spring semester; Amber's excellent grades contrasted starkly with Rachel's passable ones. No indication was made on Rachel's transcript that anything was out of the ordinary.
Amber tried to feel relieved about that, but she couldn't shake the sense that a storm was coming. And when the storm did come, it would get loud.
But in the meantime, she had a life to live, and she lived each day to the fullest. She would go on increasingly long jogs around Boston, trying to forget all about those three days of excess back in May. Unless she needed to tune into the news to keep up with Clint's case, Amber actively avoided consuming such media, instead reading novels to keep her mind sharp.
Amber also renewed her friendship with Rachel during this time. The two would eat a meal together at least twice a week, and more than once they ended up at the same Pokémon Café near the Public Garden. It was more than a little surreal to eat there after having learned that Pokémon were not, in fact, mere creatures of fantasy, but she tried not to let that plague her enjoyment of the restaurant too much. (Nor did Amber ever mention the emotional predicament she'd been under the first time they'd broken bread here. It no longer seemed relevant, now that nobody needed to know about Rachel's cheating.)
By the end of June, the jury had been selected; owing to the high-profile nature of the case, its members were kept anonymous. According to Officer Glorious (who refused to tell Amber any details about Danny's new life, not that she blamed him), this was done due to the threat of "stochastic terrorism." That was a fancy term to describe when a figure with a large enough audience riled that audience up to commit a random act of violence against a preferred target, hence the word "stochastic."
Perhaps that's what they're afraid will happen to Danny. And I'm sorry, Officer Glorious, but I can't stop thinking about him. It doesn't matter that we had less than a day with each other.
It was for the best, and Amber knew it. But she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit to pondering where Danny was now, as well as second-guessing her actions that night. Should she have maintained that embrace for a few seconds longer? (As she imagined that, she heard Officer Glorious telling her that it didn't matter anymore; honestly, Amber knew he was right, even if she'd rather not admit it.)
The Fourth of July came along, and the patriotic city of Boston prepared for its televised Independence Day parade. However, that parade's ratings were likely to be severely affected by another event airing on several networks.
Amber phoned Rachel, asking her if she wanted to come over to her apartment and watch the opening of the trial. This was a rarity in itself, for Rachel was usually the one to initiate their meet-ups. But when her friend said yes, Amber went to the nearest convenience store and bought several party-sized bags of cheddar popcorn for the occasion.
"I see you've got some Smartfood there" Rachel muttered, running a hand through her red hair.
"Yes. You know what they say - you've always gotta bring the popcorn for these things."
Rachel smiled. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"
"I did. Attention to detail is my superpower. Just like…".
Amber trailed off, for within the context of attention to detail, she remembered something she'd researched over the last two months. Even if it was healthier not to, she'd learned that many people on the autism spectrum could focus intensely on their "special interests." And the category of "people on the autism spectrum" included Danny.
"Like whom?" Rachel inquired.
"It doesn't matter," Amber replied. "Let's turn on the TV. The opening statements should be happening pretty soon."
It wasn't difficult to find the channel, for there were multiple channels carrying the trial. MSNBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, and even Fox had decided that their normal programming could be preempted to focus on Clint Cargile's Court Case. (And yes, that's how they were billing it on all the networks.)
The camera showed a cavernous, oaken courtroom with the American flag on one side of the judge's chair and the Massachusetts flag on the other. The judge, a burly man wearing black robes and a sash, made his announcements:
"This is the case of Commonwealth of Massachusetts v. Clint Cargile. The defendant is accused of three counts of collaboration with the Lobster Mobsters, five counts of espionage against the United States government and two counts of attempted assault, among other felonies. We will start with the opening statement by the prosecution."
One of the Commonwealth's lawyers, a gray-haired man identified as Kurt Brody, took the stand and began his opening statement. Even though Amber and Rachel were divorced from the actual courtroom, the tension still radiated through the TV as if they were actually there. That was the power of journalism - what a shame that the profession was declining.
"He's not going to say anything that we don't already know," Rachel remarked. "I mean, it's been well-documented that he pretended to be working with the government while giving sensitive information to the Lobster Mobsters. Do we really need a government lawyer to tell us that?"
"Rachel, there's more to it than that" Amber said, before she could stop herself.
"What do you mean?"
Amber sighed. Should I tell Rachel that she was so close to seeing the inside of a courtroom? Or should I leave her blissfully unaware that she was ever in trouble?
Within seconds, Amber decided that honesty was the best policy. In other words, she elected for the more painful option.
"Rachel, I'll be honest with you. Clint pretended to be someone else when speaking with me over the phone."
"Oh?" Rachel mouthed, her ear perked up as though her curiosity had been piqued. Which, of course, it clearly had been.
"Yes," Amber sighed. "He came to me and said that if I didn't help track down Danny Sham, he would tell the world a secret of mine. A secret of yours."
Rachel gasped. "He was going to tell the world that I cheated on my CRT exam last year?" she mouthed breathlessly.
Amber nodded.
"He wasn't!" Rachel half-whispered, half-shouted. "That's insane! Oh my Arceus, I was this close to being expelled!"
To Amber, the evident anxiety in her friend's face seemed to belong to a different time. Nothing in the world would have persuaded her to willingly go back to those fear-filled days.
But Rachel had not experienced those days, so she needed to be comforted. And that's what friends were for, right?
"Rachel, it's okay" Amber responded. "Clint's under a gag order. He's not going to be telling any secrets to anyone who matters anytime soon. You're safe. Danny's safe."
"I'd hope so," Rachel sighed worriedly. "Because Amber, that secret's hanging by a thread, and the person holding it has nothing to lose. Doesn't that worry you?"
"I've had enough worry for a lifetime in those three days" Amber muttered. "I can't deal with more right now."
"Do you ever think about him?" Rachel inquired.
"Danny?"
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Rachel nodded.
"Nearly every day, if I'm being honest" Amber responded softly. "And I mean it. Hardly a day goes by when I don't wonder where he is, and how he's doing now."
"You don't know where he is?"
"No, I don't. That's how witness protection works. I'm not allowed to contact him, and he's not allowed to contact me. Even if I met him by chance, he's under a different identity now, so how would I even know it's him?"
"And you're at peace with that?" Rachel asked. "You're okay with knowing you might never see him again?"
Amber shrugged. "I guess I have to be. Keeping my distance is what's best in order to keep him safe, so I'll observe the terms of the protection."
Just then, the MSNBC feed lit up with the words BREAKING NEWS: CLINT CARGILE TO GIVE STATEMENT IN HIS CRIMINAL TRIAL.
"Is he going to deny, deny, deny?" Amber asked nobody in particular, rolling her eyes. "Because that just sounds like lie, lie, lie to me."
"Probably."
The camera shifted to Clint Cargile, who had taken the stand. During his time in jail, he'd lost a few pounds, and his white beard was a lot thicker than it had been before. His barking Southern accent, however, was not diminished in the slightest.
"Your Honor," Clint stated, "I come to the stand knowing that I have made a severe and continued lapse in judgment."
Oh, great. That means he isn't sorry at all.
"I know that the families of the Lobster Mobsters' victims - of my victims - may never forgive me, but I'm at peace with that," Clint continued. "I have to be, because I can't go back and make things right, no matter how much I may want to. And I want to fix my errors, but there's no time machine waiting to take me back."
Rachel cringed. "He's not going to apologize for what he's done. Not that that'd be likely to matter, but he isn't even going to try. Mark my words on that."
Fortunately for Rachel, however, she was in her best friend's North End apartment rather than a Las Vegas casino. That's because she was proven wrong only seconds later.
"Failing that, the next best thing is for me to accept the consequences of my actions, even if that means I cannot be a free man any longer. I may need to spend my lifespan without any cellmate whatsoever, but I am still deeply sorry. I regret what I have done. I do not expect forgiveness, for I do not deserve any."
"A bit overdone, perhaps?" Amber posited.
Rachel shrugged. "Whatever. If you commit murder, you don't get away with it just because you regret it later."
"For that reason," Clint continued, "I will withdraw my original plea of not guilty and instead enter a plea of guilty. This case will not go to trial. I cannot in good conscience put the Commonwealth through that trauma when I have next to no chance of beating these charges. Of course, I've damaged my conscience beyond repair already, but that doesn't mean I should keep damaging it further."
After the judge asked the defendant to confirm that he would, indeed, plead guilty to all the crimes he was charged with, and Clint nodded in affirmation, there was nothing else to be done. The security guard walked over, locked the handcuffs around the defendant's wrists, and led him out of the courtroom. He would be taken to a supermax prison from which escape would be even more impossible (though it was at least conceivable he'd still try). Then, the next indictment was called in.
And just like that, the trial of Clint Cargile was over.
"Serves him right," Amber muttered. "He played Danny and I against each other, and who knows how many other heinous crimes he's committed. We don't even need to name them all - use your imagination."
"I don't think that's productive" Rachel stated. "A broken clock is right twice a day; we need to move forward."
"Fair enough. Shall we change the channel?"
Rachel consented to this, so Amber picked up the remote and pressed the button that would switch to the next channel. Of course, "channels" were becoming increasingly obsolete these days, but that's another rant entirely.
"Oh wow," Rachel mouthed. "Who is this guy?"
To Amber's chagrin, they had ended up on the channel known as One America News - OAN for short. The man on screen wore a tie with the pattern of the American flag on it, as well as a navy blue suit that made him resemble a coach for America's most popular sport - football.
Amber curled her lips, vaguely recalling that precisely this man had been on TV at the Pokémon Café during the girls' first dinner there together. Apparently Rachel had been too focused on how excited she was to notice who'd been given a platform by a kid-friendly Boston restaurant.
But Amber did not mention this detail. Instead, she spat out the following: "That's Charles Weldworth, an insane wingnut conspiracy theorist on a channel devoted to insane wingnut conspiracy theorists. He spits out obscene lies."
"Wait a minute," Rachel mouthed. "He calls himself Upchuck?"
Amber nodded. "Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes, isn't it?"
"Indeed."
Although they had several bags of Smartfood on the coffee table, all sat unopened. Quite frankly, the sight of Upchuck Weldworth on her TV made Amber want to hurl, banishing any thoughts of snacking to the realm of hell no. At the same time, Weldworth's show was the sort of thing you couldn't look away from if you happened across it, for he was just that outrageous.
As usual, the OAN host spat venom out at the girls. Not them specifically, of course - Upchuck Weldworth knew who his audience was. But he was quite fond of breaking the fourth wall!
"Today, my fellow conservative American patriots," he said, "a travesty has occurred in my beloved city of Boston. A miscarriage of justice, if you will."
Amber glanced at Rachel, pausing the telecast. "Get a load of this, Rachel. He's about to put an insane spin on the fact that Clint pled guilty."
"How's he going to make that a conspiracy, though?" Amber's redheaded friend wondered aloud. "Isn't it pretty clear he confessed of his own accord?"
Just you wait, Rachel. Just you wait. Your family's wealth has insulated you from the more insane parts of this country. But just like when you crumbled under pressure and cheated on that exam, you're going to have to face the fact that 45% of this country has lost its Arceus-damned minds.
Amber didn't say anything, instead clicking the play button. And the Upchuck Weldworth show continued.
"I am referring, of course, to the trial of alleged Lobster Mobster Clint Cargile. As it turned out, it wasn't much of a trial at all, because Mr. Cargile pled guilty right after the opening statement! How ridiculous is that? It's like folding your poker hand when you've got a straight flush! It's hard to believe that he'd do that…".
Amber shot a glance at Rachel. Wait for it.
"...maybe even too hard to believe. Hahaha! But in reality, it's no laughing matter, because the liberal communist Democrat Party is after him!"
"I get it now" Rachel responded, holding a hand in front of her mouth as though she'd just witnessed something horribly tragic and/or violent.
"I believe that some Democrat operatives stormed Clint's home last night and put a gun to his head. They told him that if he didn't plead guilty to his alleged crimes, they would kidnap him, drive him to a ditch somewhere, blow his brains out, and make it look like he killed himself! Even though we'd have no trial to watch, he'd look even more guilty than if he stayed to fight!
"I know that happened, in fact" Upchuck stated. "I'm 99.8 percent sure that's the explanation, and when it comes to a one-in-five hundred chance of being wrong, I feel comfortable saying I know what happened!"
Rachel snorted at the ridiculousness of that assertion, but Amber knew exactly what Upchuck's tactics were here. He stated his opinion as though it were fact, then acted like there was ample evidence to support said opinion as a fact. Moreover, he took care to make his explanation just plausible enough that it was within the realm of possibility, or at least could not be disproven. Most importantly, he presented a story, which almost invariably provided a more satisfying explanation than a mere statement.
After all, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't impossible to picture. A would-be assassin, possibly a member of a rival gang, breaks into Clint's jail cell with a gun. (Sure, that was crazy, but if Clint himself could break out of prison multiple times, it wasn't that hard to see someone else breaking into a mere jail). Then, the would-be assassin points the gun to Clint's head and forces him to promise a guilty plea the next day. In so doing, the would-be assassin eliminates a key threat without having to actually commit murder. Again, perhaps it wasn't the most likely explanation, but it was at least somewhat believable to the simpletons who watched this charlatan's show.
"And whose fault is this situation?" Upchuck stated. "Well, I've thought about it for the last two months, and it has to be Danny Sham! You remember him - he's the young Democrat man, formerly known as Dennis Summers, who faked his identity in order to escape a mental hospital for those with autism!"
Amber gasped. This show truly was akin to a news story about a submersible trapped under the ocean - as horrific as it was, you could not look away.
"I believe in my heart of hearts that Danny The Sham - get it? - broke into Clint Cargile's jail cell and coerced a false confession out of him!" Upchuck bellowed. "The sham, the sham, the sham's on fire, and he's at it again! He's taken on yet another identity - supposedly he is in witness protection and living a new life somewhere in the country!"
"That's bullshit!" Rachel bellowed. "He shouldn't be allowed to spread claims like that!"
Amber sighed. "I guess he's protected by the First Amendment, sadly. But you're right."
"Now, none of us know where Danny The Sham is right now. But that's what makes him so dangerous! Put that chyron on screen right now - this man is a danger to the country."
Rachel snorted. "Can this man even spell the word projection?"
Amber wasn't laughing at all, though, as Upchuck kept spewing his vile filth at the audience.
The on-screen graphic was soon placed beneath Upchuck's face. Had Amber been in a more lighthearted mood, she might have chortled endlessly at how it looked like Weldworth was labeled as a danger to the country. That would've been accurate, at least.
"Danny The Sham could be anywhere in the country. Now, I'm not advocating for violence or anything like that, but something must be done about him!"
Amber shut the TV off after that. She couldn't bear to listen to that man's voice any longer as she processed what he'd just implied.
I'm not advocating for violence or anything like that.
Amber wanted to shout "Yes, you are!" to the TV, but she knew those words would not reach him. The relationship between commentator and audience, after all, was very much a one-sided one.
Then there was the line that chilled her the most: Something must be done about him.
Charles "Upchuck" Weldworth hadn't bothered to specify what would be done about "Danny The Sham" or who would do it. That was by design - Upchuck needed to keep plausible deniability in case someone traced this act of stochastic terrorism back to him.
In case something actually happened to Danny.
"This is ridiculous," Rachel mouthed. "How can he get away with spewing such lies?"
Amber could have name-dropped the First Amendment again, but she decided not to. After all, in a perfect country (or at least, a better one than the U.S. of A), everyone understood that rights had limits - you couldn't shout "fire" in a crowded theater, to use the most famous example. But Amber was in no mood to philosophize about the Founding Fathers' intentions when they wrote the Bill of Rights.
Instead, she glanced at Rachel with her head hung low. The moisture had seemingly been sucked out of her mouth as she rasped the following:
"I don't know as much as my major would suggest. But I do know one thing."
"What's that?" Rachel replied.
"Upchuck is riling up his followers so that they won't rest until they hunt down their target. Danny's life is in danger."