- Are you chewing gum and smoking at the same time? - Holy shit!
- What?
- Are you chewing gum and smoking,
- at the same time? - What the fuck is happening?
Holy shit.
- Keep driving. - Get the fuck out of my car!
- Keep driving. - No!
- Oh my god, okay. - It's me.
- What?
- It's me. Keep driving.
- You're, you're-- - don't say my name.
- Uh...
Okay.
- Get back on the road.
- Wow. Yeah.
Yeah.
Can I ask you some questions?
- No.
- Okay. Can I just-- - no.
- We don't talk about any of this in the car.
- Oh, yeah, no, no, no the car's not bugged.
The--
excuse me. The car's not bugged.
- You left it unlocked at the gas station.
- Uh... okay.
Yeah, okay.
But can i-- is it alright if I confirm...
- Just kind of... - You're Abe richek.
- Your social security number is 988-64-4323.
You checked into a hotel at missoula.
You called your girlfriend at 11:17 pm.
At 12:13 am
you called a woman who is not your girlfriend.
I'm the one you're here to meet.
Now let's go.
- Ooh.
Yeah, yes.
Can you-- do you mind--
do you wanna just get in the front seat?
- Will you get back on the road?
- Yeah.
Yeah, just come-- come join me up here.
It's been lonely.
- Okay, let's go.
- Alright, which way?
- North.
- Okay.
Yes. Right. This way.
It's a method.
It's a method for quitting.
The cigarette, it's not lit.
I just hold it there
and chew the gum at the same time.
- Let me see your phone.
- Sure.
You can see what apps are running if--
there's a settings button you can go to on the right...
Oh my goodness.
Okay, or that works.
What would you have done if it was a phone
that you couldn't have taken the battery out of?
- Why'd you become a journalist?
- Serious question?
Oh, uh...
Why...
What made me become a journalist?
The money.
I think that I - I identify and for a long time have,
have seen myself as someone who cares a lot about the truth.
You know. And I'm not naive.
I recognize that there's a lot of moral relativity
and moral ambiguity and uncertainty in the world,
and in the worlds that we create,
but the truth does exist.
I think.
Or I try to act that way.
Ugh, that sounded pretentious to me.
Well, maybe it is a little bit pretentious...
I think that some people come to journalism as storytellers.
People who want to move the reader emotionally.
And I don't.
I'm more interested in truth,
regardless of how they feel about it.
- That's a good answer.
- Why do you do what you do?
- You can pull in by these silos.
We can talk there.
- Great.
- Let me search you.
- Uh, no.
Okay, I'm sorry but no.
You, you have to trust me, alright?
I've got a professional code of conduct.
I have a personal code of ethics.
You trust me to keep you unattributed,
you have to trust I'm not recording you, okay?
- No. I have still have to search you.
It'll be quick.
- Fine.
What do I have to do?
- Turn around.
Spread your arms.
This is not a small thing, you understand.
- I do.
Might be easier just to strip me, if you want.
- Be careful what you ask for.
- Can I put my arms down?
- Keep them out of my way.
And don't put them in your pockets.
- We are both in the same boat.
We both have something to lose.
Is that it?
- One more thing.
Cover your ears, this is going to be extremely loud.
- What is that? - Cover your ears.
- What are you doing?
Jesus, fuck!
Oh fuck!
I probably shouldn't even ask what you're doing right now.
- Aren't you afraid of treasure hunters? - No.
You're supposed to be someone I can trust.
- Who told you that?
Kelly? How do you know Kelly?
- Frankly I'd prefer to take this to larger,
more reputable papers.
- Sure, yeah,
no, I'd prefer to work for those papers but,
ya know, here we are.
- I'll give you thirty minutes.
And that's it.
No follow-up, no phone call, no email.
So make it count.
- I understand.
Okay, so first I need you to acknowledge who you are.
Just to me.
You can't be totally anonymous otherwise it's deep background
and I can't use that.
And since you're the only source for the story,
that means we got nothing, there's no story.
- You know who I am.
- Uh...
Well, you've very artfully communicated it
in extremely indirect ways.
But I need you to be direct on a couple points
otherwise there's, i mean, there's no foundation.
I can't publish.
Okay?
- We're going to do this? - Yeah.
- Great.
Uh, Debra?
Right? Debra Bratton?
- Yes. - Good.
- And you work for?
You can say it.
- I, uh...
It's--
- you have to tell me, i can't guess.
- You know it.
- That doesn't cut it.
- Here.
Got that?
- I think so.
Alright, I'm not going to write your name down,
I'm not going to write any proper nouns
that we're using here, I'll use a shorthand.
- Yeah.
- I'll keep this notebook literally on my person
at all points and then I'll destroy it
as soon as I've written the story.
Does that sound alright?
Great.
So Debra, your position is what?
An information analyst?
- Uh, senior information processing engineer.
- Okay.
Um, and what's a general way to refer to you
that's also accurate?
- What do you mean?
- I mean, like, if I'm quoting the mayor's chief of staff,
and he's not going on the record I might say
he's a "senior city hall official."
Can I refer to you as a senior analyst?
- No, not really.
Senior's in my title but I'm not senior.
Not like that. Not like you'd think.
It's just there to distinguish me from all the other ghosts.
The pure code guys.
- Did you say "ghosts?"
- Like pac-man.
They're ghosts and I'm pac-man.
Or in my case Ms. pac-man.
- Do they call you that?
- Just in the office.
It's not on my business cards.
- It's good. Can I use it?
- No. Absolutely not.
That's exactly the sort of personal detail I don't want.
And I'd prefer you don't even include my gender
as that's an enormous clue to who I am
in an agency that's 80% male.
With a job title that I share with maybe twenty other women.
- Yes, I understand.
- I don't want this to be about me, at all.
You know why people like snowden fucked up?
Because they became the story.
All anybody was interested in
was snowden in that dumb airport
or Manning and his gender identity shit
or assange and his disappearing condoms.
Everyone focused on the human element.
I don't want any of this to be about the human element.
- I understand.
I - I guarantee you that I have no interest
in making you famous.
You're not my story.
If the content of what you have,
what you're offering is good enough.
If it's strong enough, then you're not important.
But, please understand, i have to verify that you exist.
Right? I gotta verify who you are
and how you know what you know.
That I'm not just passing along some kind of rumor
that I heard second hand.
- I can see that. That's sound.
- Right?
I mean, we gotta, we gotta trust each other, alright?
We gotta be partners.
This only works if we are absolutely rigorous.
- First.
- Can I pick that up?
Is that so you can say you didn't give this to me?
- I didn't give it to you.
- Alright, I'll look at it as soon as I can tonight.
- Abe.
Did you see that car arrive?
It wasn't here when we got here, was it?
- I don't know.
No. I didn't see it but it's a long way off.
It's probably just some farmer.
- I don't like it.
Let's go somewhere else.
- Well, hang on.
Look, if that's somebody following us
then what are they doing just sitting out there
in the open where it's so obvious?
Goddamn it.
- Take a left on bofer,
and then head west, towards pasco.
Left.
- Hold on. - What are you--
- what are you doing?
- I want to see this mystery car.
- No, I told you. We need to get out of here.
- If they're watching us, they're watching us.
I just wanna-- i just wanna see who it is.
- This isn't a fucking game.
- I know that.
- You have no idea what you're doing.
- Huh.
- Okay, so you've had your look.
Let's go.
- I want to go see it.
Hello!
I don't think that-- i don't think anybody's here.
It's weird though,
I'll Grant you that.
Leaving a car here...
It's probably a farming thing that...
I don't know anything about.
Whoo! Alright.
See? We are a-ok.
- That's not the point.
- I'm very curious to hear what the point is.
Alright, where do you wanna go?
You want to head back to the gas station?
We set this up for months.
You drove all the way out here.
You're gonna get spooked by this?
You're gonna get spooked by a car,
sitting in a field, alone.
- Go back and turn left on bofer.
Towards pasco.
- Great.
- You think I'm paranoid.
- No, I don't.
I think that it seems like an excess of caution,
but I admit that I don't know.
What you know, I don't know everything you know...
Let's not get scared of ghosts, how 'bout that?
- I'm Ms. pac man, remember?
I can eat the ghosts.
- Yeah!
I don't doubt that for a second.
This my left?
- They're following us.
They just pulled out and turned after us.
- No, that's not the same...
Is that the same car?
- Of course it's the same car. Speed up.
- Uh... sure yeah...
You know, i don't want to go...
We don't want to get pulled over.
You see what they look like?
- No, not in the mirror.
I don't want to turn around.
I don't want them to see my face.
At this intersection take the left,
and then we'll take our next right.
The odds of them randomly going that way are...
- Yeah.
- Keep your eyes on the road.
Okay, that right up there, we'll take that.
Right here.
- They could not possibly...
There's literally nothing here.
- Stop here.
Keep it in drive.
- Would you like to start over?
Alright, how about this?
I'li tell you a story.
- Do you have to?
- It'll have nothing to do with anything.
Just something for me to gab about
and you can ignore it if you want to.
How's that sound?
- Great. - Great.
- Alright, so,
when I was a kid I grew up about an hour west of Chicago
in a little town called dekalb.
University town.
Probably forty, fifty thousand people.
My mom was a sociology professor
and my dad worked for the county.
- You don't have a dad.
- Sorry, uh...
- Is this even a true story?
- Do you have--
this is kind of a personal question.
Do you have...
Asperger's?
- What's wrong with you?
- What? It's just a curiosity.
- You are barely in my good graces.
- There's no stigma. A lot of perfectly--
- just stop.
Stop!
- Very intelligent-- - stop!
- Alright, so one mom was a sociology professor
the other worked for the county.
Very small town feel.
Lots of big houses, big yards, plenty of trees.
Pretty classic sitcom setting apart from the relative
trailblazing on the part of my parents.
So one early spring weekday,
and I remember that it was a weekday
because my parents weren't home,
we went out to the common area
and there was this circular grove of cherry trees,
the grove had been planted way back by the city fathers
or whoever.
And, so at this point we had twelve, fifteen
really beautiful mature cherry trees.
White pink flowers, really stunning.
You could see them for miles and miles and miles.
But today, this day, they had transformed.
And they were this nasty green-black combination.
And they were shimmering.
Which is not exactly the right word.
Not like leaves in the wind shimmering,
but like the surface of water, if the water was thick,
like a sludge.
I had obviously never done drugs at that point in my life
but it was... It was like I was high.
It was so wrong and fundamentally unnatural.
So we got closer, you know,
we want to see what's going on,
and we discover that covering these trees,
literally covering every inch of these trees
are these thousands and thousands of
green-black caterpillars.
Every tree.
And they were going to town.
They were eating the leaves and the stems
and everything, everything.
And it was only the cherry trees, I remember,
for whatever reason they weren't interested
in any of the others.
And...
- Turn here. - Yeah, yeah, yeah.
And so we get up closer and it's just this,
like, gross and horrifying
and amazing sight and it's cool.
But we knew that these trees were a big deal
so we went over to my buddy Todd's house--
- this is good, let's stop here.
- Do you want to get out?
- No. Let's just sit here for a while.
So what happened?
- Hmm?
- D'you spray 'em?
- Oh, uh, no.
I guess there wasn't time for that.
We... Todd's dad saw them,
and he freaked out.
Which was cool to see an adult share your level
of excitement about something.
And he ran home
and got on the landline and called another dad.
And the two of them got out there with ladders
and these big old plastic buckets.
And they got up there and just started yanking
fistfuls of caterpillars.
They were tent caterpillars, i found out later.
And evidently, every couple years
there's just this explosion of them.
So we get these adults
and they're throwing caterpillars into the buckets.
And we're eight so we're trying to be as helpful as possible.
And whenever these buckets would get nearly full,
we would take 'em down.
And they were heavy.
We'd take em down, and there was a ditch nearby,
and we'd pour em out into the ditch and bring 'em back.
And after probably an hour or so of this
we'd gotten most of 'em off the trees,
barring a couple dozen stragglers or so.
Meanwhile this ditch is waist-high full of caterpillars.
And one of the dads went back to his house
or his garage or something.
And he had got a gas can and brought it back.
And they were just about to start pouring it on this ditch.
Um, and then I just...
Like, I just ran out there
and grabbed a bucket
and started grabbing caterpillars.
- Why?
- I don't' know.
I didn't-- I certainly didn't know at the time.
I think that it was just,
ya know, i think was awful
to see them about to get destroyed like that.
I think that was really awful.
And I think I had the idea that maybe I could save some.
I didn't know what for.
Later on, i figured out something.
But that initial impulse is tough to explain.
They let me keep, like, uh, fifty or sixty of them
and they...
I had to promise to keep them away from the trees.
And, the adults, they backed all of us kids up,
way, way, way, back,
and one of them took the gas can
and he poured gas all over the ditch,
and another one flicked a match onto it.
And... just this enormous fireball.
And, uh...
- Let's get out.
- Here we are again.
- So what happened?
- With what?
- Uh, caterpillars.
- Oh. Does this coming out of my half-hour?
- Keep it tight. - Okay.
- Uh, where was I?
- Uh... fireball.
- Yeah, right! - Pocket full of caterpillars.
- Yes, yes, yes, yes. So, um...
Have you ever heard the bill cosby routine
about saving a snowball for the summer?
Oh man. Okay.
It's good. You should check it out.
Anyway, so, uh,
I've got these, like, fifty, sixty caterpillars
and I figure I'll take 'em home,
they turn into cocoon's and you know,
in my little science brain,
then I'd have butterflies, right?
A whole basket of butterflies to surprise my moms with.
I thought it would be a very, very sweet gesture.
They ended up separating when I was in college.
And then my mom Cindy passed away last year.
Which I'm sure you...
- Yeah, sorry.
- Thank you for saying that.
It is what it is.
So, so Patrick's dad gives me this coffee can
and I put 'em in there, and I take 'em home,
and I put 'em in the basement
where I know nobody but me is ever going to look for them.
And then I every day just keep bringing 'em leaves and water,
and I wait.
But I notice something kind of weird is happening.
I started, ya know, with like,
fifty or sixty caterpillars, at least
and now at this point, maybe I've got thirty tops.
So, I can them out of the coffee tin,
I picked out a couple dead ones,
but it didn't make sense, the math didn't add up.
And then a couple days later
I figured out what was going on.
Ya know, start with fifty,
thirty, twenty, ten, and then finally three.
Three enormous, disgusting caterpillars
with the remains of all of their brothers
and sisters inside of them.
You can imagine the feelings that I had as a kid.
This was supposed to be this really sweet thing for my moms,
and it had become a nightmare.
I took 'em out onto the concrete,
grabbed a big hammer,
and I smashed down as hard as I fucking could.
I never told anybody that story.
What?
- What?
- Why would you tell me that story?
- I don't know. I don't know.
I wanted to tell a story.
I don't like silence, i just started talking.
It came-- I don't--
- jeez, Louise. - Okay. Okay...
What?!
- It's just, it's, uh...
- I assume there's some kind of encryption key.
- In 2010 and 2011, you lived with a woman, right?
- Yeah.
- Your current license plate number
and her mother's maiden name, interchanged.
But everything reversed.
So, last digit of the license plate first,
then last of the name.
Then it alternates. Make sense?
- Five, a, nine, I.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Like that, right?
- First letter of the last name cap,
the rest lowercase.
License plate number all caps.
- Okay.
So these files contain what exactly?
- About two-thousand names.
Their last known location, previous address,
profession sometimes, social security number,
phone, email, ip.
- And what is important about them?
- You're going to have to find out.
- What prompted this change of heart?
Is it what this list is, or represents?
Something in the news--
- what do you mean, change of heart?
- A shift of values.
I mean, it sounds like something of an awakening, no?
- No.
- No?
- No, I haven't had a change of heart.
- Then why are you doing this?
- Because I hold what I do to a high standard.
I think cleaning ourselves of what's on that drive
makes us better, stronger.
- And you don't conflate whatever these abuses are
to the core of what you do?
- You don't think what I do is very valuable, do you?
- I think that we shouldn't get into it. - No.
- Let's stick to facts.
- No, no. Let's get into it.
Here, let's start with this.
This, this device that you think affords you privacy,
did you make this?
- I get it.
- Do you?
This incredibly complex device
with thousands of precise components
assembled by people whose lives are shit
working for you.
Are you under the impression
that you are just some fortunate guy.
And the rest of the world wants to work with poor eyesight
and hungry stomachs and bloody fingers
for you to amuse yourself?
These things do not just happen.
People wield power to make them happen.
If you honestly think you could enjoy
anything close to your lifestyle:
Your iPads and your fair trade coffee
and your discount airfares, and your press freedoms,
without the threat of enormous power behind you,
you're delusional.
You are a party to these actions,
you are complicit, and deep down you know it.
I do what I do because someone has to.
This world is chaos and fear
and desperation and violence,
and the only thing that has ever brought any security
and order to it
is the careful and ruthless application of power.
Get in the car.
Go, go, go, go , go!
Okay, go.
- Are they FBI?
- No.
- Oh shit.
Fuck.
Shit, shit.
So if they're not cops,
they clearly have my license plate.
They gonna figure out who I am?
Are they going to come harass me back home?
- Are they? - I don't know.
- You think if I thought any of this would've happened
I would have come out here?
- You know what, i have not done anything wrong.
Have I?
What have I done? I met you, we talked.
I told you a story about fucking caterpillars.
Huh, right?
- I need you to throw the USB drive out the window.
- Okay, hang on.
- What do you think is going on here?
Do you think these are just some rednecks fucking with us?
You asked if we broke any laws,
the better question is whether
there's anything of value inside this car.
There are two things.
What's on that drive and what's in my head.
You are only in possession of one of them.
- Yeah.
Yeah, okay.
- Wait until there's a turn. I don't want them to see it.
When I tell you I want you to throw it as hard as you can
away from the road.
You ready?
Now!
Thank you.
- Well, it is what it is.
- How does this thing do off road?
- I live in Chicago. I don't know.
- If we get the chance i might need to drive.
- Okay.
- Shit.
We need a bridge.
Does it narrow? Does it get any narrower?
- I do not know what you're trying to ask me right now.
- Never mind, just keep it steady.
- I don't know what you think I've been doing up here.
- Does this back window open?
- No. What are you doing?
- Is there anything identifying you in this bag?
- Uh, yeah, my stuff.
- Anything sewn into the lining. Anything like that?
- I don't know.
What are you-- what are you gonna do?
Whoa, whoa, what the fuck!
- They'll stop for it. Keep driving.
Speed up!
And watch for the next car you see coming towards us.
As soon as you see it I want you to pull into their Lane
and stop immediately.
- You want me to run head first into another car?
I want you to block their Lane.
- If I can. I'm not going to hit anybody.
Alright, I think I see one.
- Pull into their Lane.
- Shit.
Jesus Christ...
- Come forward please!
Let's go!
Keep it to this side. Let's go, let's go!
Good.
Cut it this way! This way, ma'am.
Let's go. This way. C'mon, c'mon!
Go. Go. Go.
Ma'am, we have a situation on the road up ahead.
I need you to step out of your vehicle.
I need your keys ma'am.
Thank you very much.
- What are we doing?
- I'm sorry to get you into this.
- Into what?
- Debra, into what? - Can you please not say my name?
- Look, it's my car, alright?
If you're in such peril that i can't even say your name
out loud in my car...
Where does that put me?
- I didn't mean for any of this to happen.
For now at least we're in this together.
- In what?
- What are we in? - In this situation.
- That's all that you're gonna say.
- That's all I really know.
- Who are the people who are following us?
- I don't know.
- You don't know, or you don't trust me enough to say?
- I don't.
- I'm sorry.
- Keep going.
We can finally get away from them.
- Keep driving. - Why?
- Tell me why.
- Please.
- That's not good enough.
- No.
Leave me your keys!
That way you can tell them I stole your car!
- You would be stealing my car.
- No.
- I need to report a reckless driver, please.
Yeah, I'm east of the 397.
It's maybe kirk road?
Huh?
Yeah, I don't know...
I'm sorry.
- Five.
Lowercase a.
Nine.
Lowercase I.
Five.
Lowercase c.
Capital r.
R.
Capital u.
Lowercase a.
Capital t.
Capital g.
Yep.
- You have to let me call a lawyer.
My name is Abe richek.
I'm a journalist. I work for...
I work for the Chicago Mercury
and you can call my publisher to confirm that.
I have not committed a crime.
I have not broken any laws.
So, you need to charge me with something or let me go.
This is a blatant--
I haven't done anything.
- Tent caterpillars hatch in June.
- What?
- Tent caterpillars in north America hatch in early summer.
Cherry trees blossom in march.
- Who are you?
Mesmer?
Sgc?
Ziki?
Let me contact my supervisors.
We can work this out.
- It is worked out.
I'm sorry.
- No! No! Wait!
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Okay.
Okay, okay.
Okay.
Fuck!
Ah, shit.
Um...
Okay, okay.
Oh.
Ah!
Fuck.
Okay, okay.
- Hey, stop the car.
Pull over.
You know, i grew up around here.
- Really?
- On the other side of the river in hermiston.
- Things change much?
- Some things.
My old house is gone.
New owners tore down. Not sure why.
Makes me think of this one time I was a kid.
I had this friend, Todd moray.
I remember his dad was always out of work and on welfare,
but he had this job once,
where he worked at this place called Saxon shoes.
It was a shoe store downtown
where they used to take an X-ray of your foot
to determine the shoe size.
One summer Todd and i are down by the creek
next to the houses where we lived.
We found this pair of box turtles.
One was a little bit lighter than the other.
And Todd had the idea that we'd take these things as pets.
Which meant we had to choose our favorites.
And I remember Todd ran for the bigger, darker one,
which we assumed was male.
And I got the smaller, lighter one,
which we assumed was female.
He called his boxo and I called mine boxie.
Later that day we took out our pocket knives
and carved markings into their backs.
He carved out an o and I carved out an x.
It wasn't even to tell 'em apart.
I mean, it was easy because of the color of their shell.
This was to tell the universe that they were ours.
So we built them these, these big cardboard houses
that we stuffed full of mulch and dirt and grass clippings.
And we fed them caterpillars and slugs,
and lettuce and carrots.
And when we could we'd meet at this common area
in between our rows of houses
and takes them for walks on leashes.
But it was never very orderly
because one of them would go straight
and the other one would walk in a circle.
Or vice versa.
By the end of the summer my parents told me
I had to get rid of my turtle.
To them it wasn't a pet, it was a wild animal.
But I'd really grown to like the thing.
I'm sure boxie didn't feel the same way about it,
but I was eight.
It's a selfish age.
So my parents set a deadline.
I had to get rid of the turtle the day before school.
And I remember I waited 'til the very last second.
On labor day.
There were dark clouds in the sky
and you could feel the pressure dropping
right before a big storm.
But my dad was insistent.
So I took boxie out to the creek where I found her,
and I let her go.
And every time Todd and I would go back there we'd look for her
but I never found her.
Figured the storm got her.
Then after summer it was fall.
And after fall, of course, winter.
And boxo, Todd's turtle goes into hibernation.
But that February we had this unseasonable warm,
and the temperatures got up to about 70.
And everyone's outside in their t-shirts,
and all of sudden boxo comes out of hibernation.
And Todd's out there taking him for walks,
and I'm jealous.
But then sun goes away.
The warm spell ends and it's winter again.
Boxo can't go back into hibernation.
So after a few days, he dies.
- So is that it?
- Basically.
Two turtles found, two turtles dead.
Then a few years ago I'm back there with my little girl
and I'm showing her the old neighborhood.
Introducing her to a few of my relatives that are still around.
And it's hot, cuz it's summer,
so I take her down to the old creek.
And she's picking dandelions and running around,
and she says "hey, dad, look there's a turtle."
So, I go down there and sure enough
there's a turtle with a clumsy x scrawled into its back.
Like it had just been waiting there for me.
Like time had just stood still...
- Hmm.
- You never can tell.
- Here you go.
- Thanks.
- Take car.
- Yeah. You too.