“We are standing outside Amelia Finch’s home right now, where she lives with her mother, Maggie Finch. Earlier today Amelia witnessed the Death Mob’s attack on Navy Pier, and narrowly escaped by jumping into Lake Michigan. As you might remember, Amelia’s father, Steven Finch, was the last victim to be brutally attacked and killed a little over two years ago.”

My stomach knots. Where is she taking this?

WGN flashes to an overly tan news anchor trying to seduce the camera. “Emi, the Death Mob, which many locals call the Swarm, usually goes after tourists. At the time of Steve Finch’s death, didn’t sources speculate he could have been targeted?”

“Exactly, Brian. Finch was the lead prosecuting attorney building a case against real estate tycoon Bill Morrell for allegedly organizing the Death Mob murders. Three weeks before the case went to trial, Finch was killed and the case was dropped. Because of it, many people speculated his attack was intentional.”

Overly Tan News Anchor leans forward. “Now Finch’s daughter is almost mobbed. That seems like an unlikely coincidence. Emi, do we know why she was at Navy Pier?”

Emi blinks twice before responding. “Amelia gave her official statement to police at the hospital earlier this evening. Authorities are not sharing that statement yet.” She dips her chin. “Certainly, tonight and the days that follow will be difficult for the Finch family.”

My mom walks away without commenting.

If I didn’t find the cameras so intolerable, I’d march outside and smack Emi Vega in the middle of her broadcast. Of all Chicago’s superficial reporters, I despise her most. After my dad died, she basically said it was his own fault for creating “an enemy list a mile long” with his high-profile cases. She diminished his life’s achievements, implying he took cases for name recognition only, including his case against Morrell. Slandering a dead guy unable to defend his legacy is a cheap and dirty gimmick. Which apparently wasn’t beneath her, or any other media desperate for airtime.

How convenient of her to omit from her broadcast that Morrell killed himself a week after my dad’s murder, proving my dad was onto something.

Light from the news trucks outside seeps through the sides of every drawn curtain in the room. I want to staple the fabric to the wall. The incessant flashing feels like an alien invasion with a giant spacecraft landing in my front yard. Not something I really care to deal with tonight.