“One of the men you took, a bald guy named Rick Jackson, is back.”

“And the problem is?”

“Shouldn’t he be in prison somewhere? I can’t imagine someone involved in shit like that, which included a couple of murders, is free to just roam around.”

“The things you can’t imagine would fill several large books, I’m sure. The fact is, only one person was actually arrested for violating US law. The man who shot the couple who found the prison site. And he’s currently in custody. The others were working on a contract from the government. The contract was canceled, and they were released. Mr. Jackson is a US citizen, free to travel anywhere in the country. It doesn’t matter if you or I agree with the decision. That was the final resolution.”

“So you don’t care that he ran down my mother, tried to blow up my girlfriend, and shot my brother.”

“On the contrary, I think that’s terrible. But it sounds like a local law enforcement issue to me. Have you filed a report?”

That was enough. I just stared at her. I slid my chair back to make her think I was leaving. I said, “I thought you guys took some kind of oath to protect the Constitution as well as citizens of the United States. Tell me how your operation in the hills behind Marlboro, and ignoring the men who built it, is helping this country? You kept claiming the terrorists were a threat. I think you’re the threat. You’re a disgrace.”

She put down her sandwich. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments. She made an assessment. An assessment of me. I could tell this was someone who did this kind of thing all the time. Could I be trusted? Would I do something crazy? I just gave her some time.

Finally, she said, “Tell me more about what happened to your family. Are you sure it was Jackson?”

I told her everything. From the blue SUV striking my mother, to my certainty that it was Jackson because he introduced himself at gunpoint. Just to give her a fair assessment of the situation.

We had another silence between us as she checked something on her phone. Then called a couple of different people, conducting very short and cryptic conversations.

Finally, she focused on me. She looked me right in the eye. She still hesitated. “Look, I believe you. I understand what you’re going through. But I’m limited by a number of things. Not the least of which, I’m not assigned to this sort of operation anymore.”

“So you believe me, but you’re sorry that I or some of my family have to die.”