He sneers. “Maybe you should read it again. The part about unreasonable search and seizures.”

“Nobody is trying to seize anything from you. All we’ve asked for is information.”

He sits back and folds his arms. “Private information that belongs to my users.”

“Your website doesn’t have a privacy policy that covers this. Our lawyers checked.”

“That’s how it starts. A little here. A little there. And the next thing you know I can’t even fly in an airport without the gestapo stopping me. Of course you wouldn’t know about that on your private jet.”

We do step over bounds, and people are right to be suspicious. Our country is supposed to be a free democracy and not a police state. I’m a bit of an anti-authoritarian myself, but I understand the idea of law and order.

This conversation is not going where I wanted it to. “I fly commercial all the time. I have to put up with the same inconvenience. I may not agree with it. But it’s the law. I answer to the Constitution and the people you elect to make the laws and interpret it. My job is not to pick and choose which laws I’m going to enforce based upon what I agree with. Congress, elected by the people, gives us directives telling me what to do according to the Constitution.”

“They’re a bunch of crooks bought out by the corporations,” replies Reynolds.

“Maybe so. The FBI has put a number of politicians in jail. Between you and me, it’s a source of pride for us.” I pick up Chloe’s photograph and bring it to his eye level. “Political arguments aren’t going to help us get her killer.”

“Neither does being a good little Nazi who only says she’s following orders.” The words come out of his mouth too neatly, like something he’s rehearsed over and over in his head.

It’s such a sophomoric conversation. The kind of thing I went through in college when guys with Che Guevara shirts found out I was a criminal justice major. To them, anybody who was in authority who wasn’t them or on their narrow bandwidth of political thought was a thug.

I pause, then speak as calmly as I can. “I have a pretty clear idea of what right and wrong is even when things are gray. Do you?”

“Yes. Giving in to you guys would be wrong. I don’t care how many photos of dead girls you try to scare me with. Maybe you’ll start calling the Warlock a terrorist next. Then you’ll get to do anything you want. That’s why people have to stand up to you.” His cheeks are flushed. For him, this is his moment. I’ll bet anything he’s recording our conversation to share triumphantly with the Internet later.

“Recording me without my permission is against the law,” I tell him.

His face goes white as he stumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Would you mind showing me your phone?” I ask.