"You're
being detained by the Department of Homeland Security," the
woman snapped.
"Am
I under arrest?"
"You're
going to be more cooperative, Marcus, starting right now." She
didn't say, "or else," but it was implied.
"I
would like to contact an attorney," I said. "I would like
to know what I've been charged with. I would like to see some form of
identification from both of you."
The
two agents exchanged looks.
"I
think you should really reconsider your approach to this situation,"
Severe Haircut woman said. "I think you should do that right
now. We found a number of suspicious devices on your person. We found
you and your confederates near the site of the worst terrorist attack
this country has ever seen. Put those two facts together and things
don't look very good for you, Marcus. You can cooperate, or you can
be very, very sorry. Now, what is this for?"
"You
think I'm a terrorist? I'm seventeen years old!"
"Just
the right age -- Al Qaeda loves recruiting impressionable, idealistic
kids. We googled you, you know. You've posted a lot of very ugly
stuff on the public Internet."
"I
would like to speak to an attorney," I said.
Severe
haircut lady looked at me like I was a bug. "You're under the
mistaken impression that you've been picked up by the police for a
crime. You need to get past that. You are being detained as a
potential enemy combatant by the government of the United States. If
I were you, I'd be thinking very hard about how to convince us that
you are not an enemy combatant. Very hard. Because there are dark
holes that enemy combatants can disappear into, very dark deep holes,
holes where you can just vanish. Forever. Are you listening to me
young man? I want you to unlock this phone and then decrypt the files
in its memory. I want you to account for yourself: why were you out
on the street? What do you know about the attack on this city?"