I’m wiped today. I’ve been keeping myself busy the last few days, and I had a gig all the way out in Houston which I didn’t get home from until late last night. I don’t even have the energy to channel surf, so Gregg has the remote. He didn’t have to do anything except give Zoe driving lessons. He has a series of Christmas concerts to play in right before we go on vacation, so we’re trading off.

We’re watching a news broadcast detailing the newest spending bill passed by Congress yesterday. My eyes are glazed over, and I’m only taking in bits of information about it here and there. My mind keeps slowly shifting from listening to the news broadcast and listening to Ashley’s french horn. She made all-Area yesterday, meaning that she’s eligible to make the All-State band. Such incredible work she’s put in; I didn’t make it into All-State until my junior year. Still, even by her standards this practice session is pretty intense.

“She's been at it for two hours already, and it's still morning. She's a real workaholic,” I comment to Gregg. “I think all the messed up stuff happening is getting her more than she wants to admit.”

“Makes sense that she’d bury herself in her work. She’s your daughter, after all,” Gregg replies.

“Mmhmm. How could it not get to me? Someone connected to human trafficking working at their school? What hell has been unleashed?”

“I can’t believe we’re letting something like this happen. The government should be fighting these malicious groups tooth and nail.”

I blearily look at the TV, which is currently showing footage of one of the Senators from our state making a speech before Congress about why the bill shouldn’t have passed. Something about immigration…

“They should be,” I say. “I just don't know what’s happening to this world anymore.”

I glance over at Gregg. He has that thinking expression again. And behind that, a sort of fire in his eyes.

“You do realize something, right?” he says. “If anyone comes for Ashley and Zoe because of what happened… we will have to intervene directly.”

I let out a long, slow sigh, and feel myself deflate. “They need us as parents too. You remember what happened to the others, right?”

“It’s not a decision we should make flippantly, of course. All I’m saying is, if they are targeted, our hands will be forced.”

I don’t reply. The truth of what he’s saying slowly settles in… as little as I like it.

The broadcast changes. A familiar face appears on the TV; a disgustingly pretty newscaster who dominated the airwaves back in California. She’s wearing a red dress, her blonde hair is neatly tied in a ponytail, she’s wearing these ridiculous heart-shaped glasses and gaudy earrings, and she has a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Good morning, America,” the woman says in her stupid, fake cheery voice. “This is Kelly O’Hare with our next segment. Across the country, thousands have demonstrated this weekend, protesting the shocking death of Eric Garner at the hands of a white police officer. Our question today is; when is are Southern whites finally going to drop their historic white supremacist ideals?”

“What the hell?” I question, anger momentarily rousing me. “Eric Garner was killed in New York City! That’s just misleadingly worded!”

“Hmm. Typical of her to blame anyone and everyone but the institutions responsible.”

“Oh, just change the channel, please, I can’t stand the sound of her stupid voice any longer.”

He unexpectedly gets to his feet, and places the remote in my lap. “Here's the remote. I have an errand to run, now that you've reminded me.”

“Oh really? And what is that?”

“I want to find our state representative's take on these events,” he explains as he grabs his car keys off the counter. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

His office is small and tidy; just a few armchairs and a table with some magazines on it. In the back, there is a small window, behind which his secretary is sorting papers. I walk up and say, “Good afternoon. Is Mr. Casey in the office right now?”

“He is, but he is currently on the phone,” she answers in a bored voice. “If you could wait here for a moment, I'll call you back there when he's ready.”

“I appreciate it.”

“If I may ask, what is the occasion?”

“Well, I wish I could say I wanted a friendly chat. I don't suppose you've heard about what happened at my daughter's school?”

“You mean that teacher who got into a fight with some students and died shortly after?”

“It was not so much a fight as it was the teacher preying on the students. But yes, we are probably thinking of the same incident.”

“That's just what I had heard. The official report was scant on details, so I had to go off word of mouth.”

“I am a primary source; I was there the day that it happened. My daughter was one of the students targeted. It seems as if there are some mild misconceptions going around..”

“If I had to take a guess, people are disbelieving that a sweet little lady like her could be guilty of such a thing. The culprit dying also shrouds the case in uncertainty, as there was never a chance to put her on trial and determine a motive.”

I hear the door open behind me. A rough-looking middle aged man with a short beard walks in and takes a seat.

“Well that is certainly true,” I say. “Most troubling to me are her comments shortly before we left. It seems there were co-conspirators involved. Which brings us back to why I have come here. I want to express my utmost concern that the matter is being investigated. I am very concerned that things were allowed to get to this point.”

“You may share your concerns with the representative shortly. You have my deepest condolences that your daughter was caught up in the situation.”

“Thank you, ma'am. I do appreciate it.”

The man sitting behind me speaks up suddenly. “Yeah, that just goes to show why you shouldn't let that sort work as teachers.”

I turn to him. “Yes, we shouldn't let pedophiles become teachers. That goes without saying.”

“And yet the liberals are pushing all sorts of anti-discrimination bullshit to try and get homosexuals and other deviants hired at schools. It's sick.”

I repress the urge to roll my eyes. “This has no connection to the gay rights issue.”

“Pfft. They let a lesbian work as a teacher, and she starts making moves on the female students. Who could’ve seen that coming,” he says sarcastically.

“You're misinformed about what happened. The teacher was primarily targeting a male student, so we can reasonably assume she is not a lesbian. While there were a couple of female students caught up in the situation- including my daughter, I'll have you know‐ they got involved trying to prevent it on behalf of the male student.”

“Yeah well, I'm sure a depraved person like that will go after any child who gets in their sights.”

“Well, yes. Isn't it just as wrong of an act regardless of what gender is targeted or responsible? So now you see my point that this isn't related to gay rights.”

“It still is. People who accept unnatural sexual behaviors in one form are bound to push for even more ‘inclusion.’ Soon we will be called bigots for being against the hiring of open pedophiles and zoophiles.”

I had heard this argument before and was never particularly impressed by it. I decide to switch my tactics. “I'll have you know that my daughter, one of the victims of this occurence, is gay herself. You are plainly showing that you aren't concerned with the safety of children, only with having someone to pick on.”

“You might want to consider homeschooling your daughter, for the sake of all the rest of our kids.”

The nerve of this man. “She's no danger to them. The only disciplinary problem she's had is a fight with a student who was bullying her girlfriend. And that is a problem with people like you who spread this misinformation.”

“Gentlemen,” the secretary interjects firmly.

“Maybe you should think about why all the students in the school can't stand them,” the man continues, ignoring her. “How detestable does someone have to be if we have to be banned from criticizing them?”

“Please,” the secretary interrupts again.

“So that's it, then?” I argue anyway. “The tyranny of the majority rules? What about individual rights?”

“This is a waiting room, not a debate stage,” the secretary says in a raised voice. “If you have an issue please take it outside.”

I take a deep breath. “That's quite okay. I don't think anything will come of this conversation, so let us cease.” The other man doesn’t say anything; he just scowls and looks at the ceiling disdainfully.

After a while, I am called back to the office. Mr. Casey is a young man about my age (well, that’s young by political standards.) He has an easy smile and a reassuring air of charisma.

We begin by recapping what I told the receptionist, the details of the incident. I want to make sure any misconceptions that he may have heard are dispelled right off the bat. I then express my concern that the teacher’s co-conspirators are still at large and my confidence that the state government is doing whatever it can to investigate them and any other human trafficking operations.

“You're certainly justified in your concerns,” he tells me when I’m finished. “I was not made aware of the totality of this situation, so I appreciate your input.”

I find this odd. The receptionist I understand, but how could a state official be unaware of reports of human trafficking in his own district?

He continues. “You're in luck. Governor Schneider, before becoming governor, was a state prosecutor, and then attorney general. It was during that time he made a name for himself in busting sex trafficking. We are in capable hands. I will schedule a conference with him and some of my other colleagues to discuss. Protecting children is a bipartisan issue, and once Congress is back in session we will give the matter our closest attention.”

“Great to hear. I do have a few more words of warning, however. First of all, the gentleman scheduled to see you after me seems set on blaming the gay and lesbian community for the actions of these people. Do not fall for this rhetoric. There are straight men who target little girls, are there not? Aren't they equally as large of a concern?”

“Yes, of course. We will target all sex trafficking without bias. I see no reason to drag culture wars into such a universally reviled issue.”

I feel a faint sense of relief. “Thank you. That is very respectable of you to put this issue ahead of pandering to the party base.”

“Of course. As I said, this is a time for country over party.”

I nod in agreement. “And finally, my impression is that the police performed a rushed and sloppy investigation, pinning the blame on a different teacher who turned out to be innocent. Perhaps if they had not wasted time on him, the real culprit could've been caught sooner.

“Hmm. Well, you know that I don't have any direct control over the police, right?”

“I'm telling you because I find the behavior suspicious. I wonder if there is a chance someone on the force was paid off.”

“I doubt it. It's important that we stand by our men and women in blue in this trying time.”

“Well, unless they are corrupt. I have no proof that they are; just a suspicion. It might be worth an internal investigation.”

“We can do that if any proof does come forward; but for the time being, let's not risk spending so much time investigating the police that they don't have space to do their jobs.”

“I understand,” I say curtly. “That's all I have. Thank you for all of your work.”

“It's my duty and pleasure. Good to speak with you as always.”

I leave the office reasonably satisfied. I hadn’t really expected to make headway on that last point anyway; it was a stretch goal. I suppose we’ll just have to see how the situation shapes up, and if any action follows these promises. Of course, it is politics, so that’s rather up in the air…