She retweeted a lot of news about New Surge. Most of the posts she shared were from the company, too. Her Twitter profile has a cover photo of the company with a link to the company's page. She's listed as a Digital Officer for the company. And, based on all the retweets and posts she shares, it's clearly a division of the IT department.
I then spend a little time looking at her Instagram feed, which, thankfully, is a public feed. She posts a slew of photos there. A bunch of pictures of the sunset. A few photos of different areas in DC. There's a selfie of her standing outside the Lincoln memorial. There's a picture of her and some Georgetown graduates standing by the capitol building. Apparently she views Trader Joe's as her third place, her home away from home.
There's nothing on the page that wins over my attention. Nothing unfamiliar to other Facebook pages. You could have replaced her name and picture and it could have been anyone, anywhere U.S.A. So there's nothing distinguishable.
Her Facebook page is blocked, so there's no chance of looking inside of that midfield. But I don't want to, either. Most Facebook pages have been reduced to feeds of memes and partisan articles. Nothing worth reading too deeply.
At a loss, I cup my head in my hands and lean my elbows against the table. I scrunch my hair because it's frustrating to not have any leads on this.
I look at the reporter's notebook beside my laptop. Okay. What do I know? She worked at New Surge. She was meant to testify.
But why? What purpose could she have had in the case?
Her lawyer would know. That's for sure. But how on Earth could I find that stuff out?
Well, this is the beautiful part of being a journalist and having unlimited access to content across the web. I do a quick search, typing in Kayleigh Donnowho and her representation. I have to scroll through a few pages of Scribe articles until I find it buried in a legal proceedings article on the upcoming Senate hearings.
KAYLEIGH DONNOWHO - REPRESENTED BY SIMPSON, SAMPSON AND CROWS LLC
So that leads me on another quest. Right down the rabbit hole I jump. SIMPSON, SAMPSON and CROWS. Never heard of it before, though if they're helping out with Kayleigh, this must mean they're a pretty high-end law firm that isn't afraid to get involved in the bigger cases.
A quick shirt shows me that the law firm comes from Boston, Massachusetts, of all places. A little hometown feeling sets within me. Of course this would all lead back to Massachusetts. The law firm is indeed a place for high-end clientele. Pictures of the Boston skyline highlight the front page of their website. The text is smooth and ultra techie.
When I click on the partners, I see Jerry Simpson, Emily Sampson, and Ethan Crows. All three of them look like they've had money for their entire lives, and they've never had to struggle.
Okay. So this whole lawsuit goes way up.
How could Kayleigh afford a lawyer like this? They must be associated with New Surge, right?
So I jump down that rabbit hole, searching for any connection between Simpson, Sampson and Crows, and New Surge. And indeed, I find an article in The Scribe about how the law firm is working with New Surge for all of its upcoming lawsuits, just like it had done with the dozens of others that the company faced over the years. The law firm would also work with Up Sync, a subsidiary of New Surge.
Okay. So what can I do with all of this information? What do I do with the law firm knowledge? Do I just call them up and ask about Kayleigh?
Hmm. Yeah. Maybe that's exactly what I do.
I click through until I find their phone number on the contact us page. I then call the law firm and hear a warm voice on the other end. It's a woman with a heavy eastern accent, where her Rs are totally AHs. I can imagine her with a warm Dunkin Donuts coffee at her desk as she's getting ready for the day.
"What can I help you with?"
"Hi, my name is Annette and I am a reporter for the Washington Scribe. I'm working on a story about one of your law firm's clients and I was wondering if I could talk to someone about that."
"One second dear," she says.
She puts me on hold, which I only realize because the phone buzzes with static on the other end. Seconds later a voice enters in the void.
"SSC, this is Mack."
"Hi, Mack. My name is Annette and I am with the Washington Scribe. I'm doing a story on one of your clients and I was looking for additional information."
"Hi Annette. Thanks for reaching out. Is this about the New Surge case?"
"It's related."
"Okay. So, I'll let you know right up front, that I can't comment on anything related to the hearings."
"Of course," I say. "I understand. It's just a related matter."
"Okay."
"And this isn't for an article. Well, it wouldn't be printed. I can tell you upfront that all of this would be off the record. I'm sort of looking into another angle and just need some help finding the right path to follow.:
"Oh," he says, "well in that case I can talk a little more openly. I appreciate the honestly."
"Hey, anytime."
"So what can I help you with?"
"Okay, so I know you represent New Surge and Up Sync and all of these places. But I'm looking into one of their employees. Her name is Kayleigh."
"I heard about her. Are you writing an obituary about her?"
I open my mouth to say no, but that's not a bad excuse. So instead, I say, "Sort of. I'm just following a few different angles, like I said."
"Okay, okay, I see. I see. Well, yeah, I mean, what do you want to know?"
I can hear him move in his chair. That's a sign that he's upset, right? Or maybe he's nervous. Who knows what's going through over there.
"Well, I just wanted to know what she had to do with the case. I'm not really sure why she was involved with this whole thing."
"Oh, you don't know that?"
"No. I looked at some of the documents and it just seems like she was supposed to testify before the senate before she was taken from us. But I didn't see anything about why she was asked to testify."
"Yeah, well, I can't tell you too much about it," he says. "I mean, I can tell you that she was a late addition."
"A late addition?"
"Yeah. She wasn't supposed to testify originally. She was added toward the end of the hearings, before the shutdown. So, yeah, I don't know who too much."
"Did you add her?"
"I believe it was one of the partners who added her. I'm just a media guy here. But I know she was added onto he list toward the end. And for good reason. I'm sure some of the lawyers directly involved on both sides would know more, or even the judges."
"Yeah, but I doubt they'll want to talk."
"I don't anyone will want to talk to you about that stuff. It's still pretty raw. I hear they're having a funeral for her this week?"
He asks it like a question, so I tell him, "Yeah, I believe so."
"You going down there? Some of the partners are thinking about flying over to your neck of the woods for it, but I didn't plan on making the trip."
"Wait, I thought she worked in New York?"
"She did," he says. "But she's from Baltimore. Just outside it, actually."
Baltimore for the funeral. That's not such a bad idea for a trip. Then again, heading all the way to Baltimore will be a costly adventure, especially so soon. Maybe I could do it. But is it worth the cost? How long will it take me to get there?
It does spark an idea in my mind though -- maybe there are family members and friends who I can talk to about her, so I can learn a little bit more.
"Well, I guess there's not much you can tell me," I say. "But is there anything you know that you might want to share with me right now?"
"Just that I met her once. She was brought in toward the end of the case, like I said, and we told her in a meeting that the lawyers were going to handle everything and that she wouldn't be asked to say much. We would help her recite the information e had at hand and everything would be fine."
"Huh, that's inte
resting."
"How?"
"Well, it seems like the law firm just added someone to listen so they could get across an agenda."
"Maybe, but that seems like that's what these cases are. Just both sides trying to get their points across, right?"
"Sure."
"Well, let me know if there's anything else you need or if I can help you. I doubt I could, but let's hope."
"Sounds good. And I appreciate your help."
He hangs up and then I'm left in silence. My mind buzzes with questions now about what I need to do, and where I can go next. But I love the idea he put in my head. Maybe there are family members and friends who can help me uncover all of this information. Maybe there is a next step for me to take.
I open up my computer and go back to work.
There has to be something new here.
I hit up Facebook again, and I decide there's a much better route for me this time. I open up the search bar and type in the name of New Surge. A litany of pages pop up. One of them reads NEW SURGE New York. That's the one I need. I double-click it and open up the page. It takes a brief second to turn on. Internet speed must be down.
When the page loads, I scroll down the front of the page. The first post is an RIP Kayleigh post. It's a large picture of her with three paragraphs of text that wish her well in heaven. I open up the comments. There's five-hundred comments underneath the photo. There are a lot of prayer emojis, and words like "RIP" and "BLESSINGS!" All of the names are unfamiliar to me. But I know they're her former co-workers.
I stop scrolling when my eyes fall upon a noticeable name. Tiffany Donnowho. I double-click the image and see her profile page pop up.
Her page isn't blocked. She has a wide open, public page -- one I can read. I scroll down the page. The first post is a wide remembrance photo for Kayleigh. Her bright blues eyes and pure white teeth. The smile that stretches from ear to ear. She's so beautiful and young. Gone way before her time.
The text explains that Kayleigh was Tiffany's sister. She's sorry that her sister is gone from this planet, but she still loves her with all of her heart. She hopes to see her again. She hopes to talk with her about their ice cream Friday nights, or the times they walked home from college parties too late for safety. "I'll see you again," she ends with post with.
So she has a sister. That's important to note. Is there a way to contact her? I open up the about section of her page. Her work history pops up. It's a list of the places she has worked.
And New Surge is the first one.
"Bingo," I say.
And I know, truly, I have found the right path at last.
Chapter 13: Funeral
They scheduled for the funeral for tomorrow. So I plan on attending. I map out the course I'll have to follow to get there, and the ride there will only take an hour or two, depending on traffic. The government shutdown has created less traffic in the area so driving that far won't be hard during the middle of the day.
I pack a bag full of clothes that I can wear if I need to. I doubt there's a chance I'll have to stay over in Baltimore for longer than the day but you never know what can happen. Random events can popup no matter where you go.
I don't know what I'm going to do at the funeral. I guess my first intention will be to find any co-workers who might know more information about what happened.
But it's her sister, Tiffany, who matters most. She'll have the most information for me. Since she also works at New Surge, she'll have the details on what was going on. And she might even have information about why Kayleigh was pulled into the court case at the last minute.
I won't waste anytime by going up there either. It's only a day trip. And if people look at me funny, I can say it's for an article. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
I turn in early because I have a big day planned for tomorrow. I sleep a dreamless sleep. No bad dreams float into my mind, which is a little surprising for me. When I wake up, there's an orang-gold light of the morning sunrise flooding the far wall of my room. I want to wake up. But my eyes have other plans. They slowly begin to close, so I roll over and drift back to sleep.
The bright light of the morning wakes me up. No need to turn on a light. The sun is bright enough for me. This time I don't need to close my eyes or roll back to sleep. I slip out of bed and drag my feet to the edge of the room. I lean against the window and stare out at the city streets below. Random cars drive by far apart from each other. The rest of the city has barely woken up.
I get dressed in a black pair of slacks, a black top, and black shoes. I have to look like someone who's attending a funeral. I grab a cup of coffee from the already-boiled pot and drink it while scanning through my Twitter feed. About an hour later, I'm out the door with my pack lingering on my shoulder. I stroll down to the front office. I pull out my phone and tap away to hail an Uber. Five minutes away. I wait inside ht lobby until the black Ford Fusion rolls into the front of the hotel. A cold air bites at my skin when I step outside. It's a chilling cold, one that really digs at your bones. So I rip open the car door and slip into the back seat. I tell the driver we're all set. He agrees. And we're off toward Baltimore.
We sit in silence for most of the ride. He asks me if I'm enjoying the city so far. I must give off the pretense of a newbie, or at least someone who doesn't frequent Washington too much. He asks why I am going to Baltimore, and I tell him it's for business purposes. He asks what business. I tell him I'm with the Scribe.
"I've only met a few journalists in my time."
"Really?"
"Last one was this girl with the cutest name. Minny."
"Minny?"
"Yeah."
"You said, Minny?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Nothing," I lie. "The name is so unique." At this point, my brain is screaming. Minny! He met Minny! He actually met the mysterious journalist that I've never met.
"Like the mouse, or whatever. She worked for the Scribe," he says.
"That's where I work!"
"No way. Funny world. Yeah, she was really kind. She told me she was getting out of the business, though. Said she couldn't handle all the craziness."
"Craziness?"
"Yeah. She was writing on politics and stuff and she said it was too dramatic for her, which is crazy," he says. "I can't imagine having to cover politics. Especially in this horrible shutdown. It's just wild."
"You're not liking it?" I muse.
"Not at all," he says. "I'm stuck without anyone to drive. It's just such a pain in my ass."
"Well, I hope that you can figure something out. I talked to a Lyft driver who was pretty pissed about it too."
"Smart move."
"Did you ever see this Minny girl again? Sorry, I just, I've heard of her but I never met her, actually. So I wanted to see if you ever saw her again?"
"Nope, never saw her. But I did decide to look her up once I got home that night. Figured it might be cool to see the articles by the person I drove. Like, how often does that happen?"
"And what did you find?"
"Oh, just a bunch of political articles. As expected. But it's funny. My buddy created this little Chrome extension thing -- you know, for the Google and what not -- and it's supposed to show you how many hidden articles there are with someone's name. Like, all hidden articles buried in search engines and stuff."
"That's unique."
"Well, he figured he'd make it in case the government ever started deleting articles and stuff. He's a conspiracy dude. Runs a YouTube channel, actually. And he's always spouting these crazy theories that the government is taking down articles to keep real information from leaking."
"Sounds interesting."
"Yeah. Anyway, when I searched this Minny woman, her number on the true Google search was like fifty-six articles she wrote. Right? Like, it might have been more or less. Somewhere around there. But then with this app, I found out she had written closer to two hundred articles. Almost like all of the article she ever wrote were hidden for some rea
son. Like she didn't want anyone to see them or something. It was the weirdest thing."
"Huh, that is weird."
It's also weird that I happen to jump into the one Uber car where there driver knows Minny. What are the chances of that? It's almost too coincidental to be a coincidence.
I tap my fingers against the door handle in the back seat. I grab my bag and set it on my lap. I look up at the driver. His head is focused on the road.
"DO you have the name of that extension?" I ask.
"Yeah. It's called Hidden Ideas. Just a simple one you can install in your phone."
"Awesome. And hey, can I get your number actually? I might have some followup questions I want to ask down the road."
"You seriously?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No reason." He reaches into his pocket, and then he throws a card from the front seat. It lands on my lap. I pick up and read is name HAROLD AMICK. I stow it in my pocket and then lean back.
"I'm gonna take a nap now if you're cool with that."
"Go ahead miss. I'm just hanging out here by lonesome."
I snicker and then lean back in the car. It's probably not the safest thing in the world to do -- sleep in the back seat of your Uber. They could drive me off somewhere I've never been before and start a bunch of problems.
But I ignore my fears and slowly drift off into the darkness. The warmness of the seat combined with the rolling wheels of the car just tickles me off to sleep.
When my eyes slowly open, I can see the Baltimore skyline popping up in the distance. We're getting closer.
"Sorry, I feel asleep for a little bit."
"You're fine. Hey, I actually wanted to tell you something while we're at it."
I rub some of the dust out of my eyes. "Yeah?"
"You know, it's funny we were talking about that journalist girl. I drove her a few months ago, and wha's funny is that was headed to Baltimore of all places. What a coincidence."
Into the Night Page 10