Chapter 6 - The Photograph
By seven the next morning, Avery Bell's face was on a news site's homepage.
The article named Bell as an overlooked rescuer and discussed her injury. The reporter added material from public records, but I'd supplied the photograph without her permission. Strangers immediately began arguing about her online.
She called me before I finished reading.
“You gave them my picture,” she said. No greeting. No raised voice.
“I sent the flyer. I didn't expect them to identify you.”
“Did you ask me?”
“No.”
“Then you did expect to spend something that wasn't yours.”
I felt the truth of it before I could answer. “I'm sorry, Avery.”
“Sorry doesn't take my daughter's school out of the comments.”
She hung up. I called the editor and asked for the image to be removed. The editor complied after checking the privacy concern, but screenshots remained everywhere.
Harlan summoned me to his office. A legal officer was already there, along with the public affairs officer who had received my draft warning.
“We're removing you from direct witness contact pending an administrative review of the disclosure,” Harlan said. “You'll turn over all relevant communications and cooperate.”
I could have argued that the reporter had made the publication decision. Instead I told him exactly what I'd forwarded.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I thought people would keep paying if I waited.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand I chose someone else's exposure as the cost of my urgency.”
He glanced at the legal officer, who made a note. He did not look pleased. I wasn't asking him to be.
Owen met me outside. His mother had seen the article and become frightened that her name would be published next. She'd stopped answering the nonprofit's calls but had also stopped answering his.
“Mom says she doesn't trust anybody with her paperwork,” he said. “That includes me.”
I told him I had mishandled Bell's photograph. He stared at the floor for a long time.
“You told me not to do that,” he said.
“I know.”
For once there was no defense that made the sentence easier.
The ceremony was postponed, not canceled. Keene supported the postponement in a short statement that gave no details. Sentinel Passage responded with a public post accusing unnamed officials of trying to silence veterans. Calls flooded the installation.
After lunch, I turned in my contact records. Before I left, Whitfield handed me an acknowledgment form and a sealed copy of Keene's statement for the designated reviewer. It was the last document I would touch in the matter for a while.
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“Avery agreed to testify,” she said.
Relief rose so quickly I almost cried. Then Whitfield added, “But she has one condition. She will not let you attend the interview.”
