I Confess

Oops. You weren't supposed to read that. That's another document from my confidential files--the confidential files stored in my computer, where only I can access them. Not that I really need to see them, anyway, because they are hoaxes, fakes, completely made up.

By now, I think you can see just how dangerous it is to keep confidential files, even if they are hoaxes, fakes, completely made up.

So I called Stephen Jones to tell him I now can sympathize with him after all those mean Oklahoma City bombing stories and also because I wanted the recipe for the ravioli he'd fed that swine reporter from the Dallas Morning News before he'd swiped all of Jones's confidential files. And I also wanted to tell Stephen how very enlightening, if completely incoherent, his two dozen different explanations of Tim McVeigh's confession had been. And Stephen, who's been doing a lot of talking for the past ten days, said that even so, he had something he wanted to confess to me. "I've never told anyone this before," he said, and I believed him, because he is a lawyer and cannot lie without running the risk of being disbarred. "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It's like this. A couple weeks before the trial, we needed really big body counts...

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