duty police officers working security that night told me that David Mitchell was trying to get in with his old Tribune press pass. They didn’t let him in, but said that he did get in three nights ago and was kicked out.” I looked at Morgan and then back at Jami.
“I recognize the name. Who is he?” I asked.
“The guy who used to work at the Tribune. He was fired and started a news Website. Blake, he broke the news about the kidnapping. I just read the bulletin on this and all news agencies are referencing his Website as the source.” I looked back at the video and watched the man still sitting on his bike.
“And you think that’s David Mitchell?”
“When I asked one of the officers where he went after they turned him away, he pointed to the parking lot.” A moment later, we watched as the man still sitting on his bike ducked behind an SUV as the kidnapper backed out of the exit, pulling a crate behind him, and walked over to a nearby van.
“Morgan, can you confirm?” On a separate monitor, he accessed the city’s DMV records. As he did, we watched the kidnapper pull the senator’s limp body out of the crate, dump it in the van, and drive off. The bike followed, headlights off.
“Got it. David Mitchell. Issued a Class M license by the state in March. It’s him.”
Chapter 24
The Website traffic was spiking higher than David Mitchell had ever seen. He monitored the visitors in real-time using a Web analytics service and saw that there were over a hundred thousand people at that very moment reading his short post that broke the news about the senator’s kidnapping.
Mitchell heard a knock at the door and got up from the chair in his home office. He looked through the peephole and saw a man staring back at him. “FBI open this door right now!” the man yelled after knocking again. He looked around the room before opening the door and putting his hands in the air.
“Are you David Mitchell?” the man asked as he walked in. Two others followed him in.
“I’m Mitchell.”
“Mr. Mitchell, put your hands down and take a seat on the couch,” the man said. He did as he was told and the first man ordered the other two to search the apartment. “Do you know why we’re here?” he asked and David nodded. “You’re running a Website from here, a popular one it seems. I understand you broke the story about Senator Keller’s kidnapping. Just how did you get that information?” Mitchell thought before responding.
“They were anonymous tips. I have an email address that anyone can send tips to.”
“How many do you get a day?” the agent asked.
“A couple hundred, I guess.”
The other two agents reappeared. “Apartment’s clear,” one of the men said. The agent interrogating Mitchell continued.
“You get a couple hundred tips a day and you publish a story online about a report you received that says the senator was kidnapped and driven off in a black van…” Mitchell was watching the other two agents who were looking at everything he owned. His eyes went back to the man talking to him.
“That’s right. Then I got another tip telling me the estimated age of the kidnapper.”
“You receive random tips all throughout the day… why act on these?”
“They seemed credible. The timelines worked.”
“Then you won’t mind showing me these emails, will you? I’d like to see them for myself.” The agent slowly revealed a smile, one that seemed to say I know you’re lying and I’m going to prove it .
David Mitchell sat for a few seconds, thinking it over. The other two men stood behind the agent, arms crossed. Mitchell had decided that the men were performing a light search of his apartment while the first man grilled him with questions.
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Mr. Mitchell, let me explain something. When you let us into your apartment, you consented to a search and no warrant is needed.”
“That’s not how it works. You need a warrant, signed by a judge, if you’re
“I recognize the name. Who is he?” I asked.
“The guy who used to work at the Tribune. He was fired and started a news Website. Blake, he broke the news about the kidnapping. I just read the bulletin on this and all news agencies are referencing his Website as the source.” I looked back at the video and watched the man still sitting on his bike.
“And you think that’s David Mitchell?”
“When I asked one of the officers where he went after they turned him away, he pointed to the parking lot.” A moment later, we watched as the man still sitting on his bike ducked behind an SUV as the kidnapper backed out of the exit, pulling a crate behind him, and walked over to a nearby van.
“Morgan, can you confirm?” On a separate monitor, he accessed the city’s DMV records. As he did, we watched the kidnapper pull the senator’s limp body out of the crate, dump it in the van, and drive off. The bike followed, headlights off.
“Got it. David Mitchell. Issued a Class M license by the state in March. It’s him.”
Chapter 24
The Website traffic was spiking higher than David Mitchell had ever seen. He monitored the visitors in real-time using a Web analytics service and saw that there were over a hundred thousand people at that very moment reading his short post that broke the news about the senator’s kidnapping.
Mitchell heard a knock at the door and got up from the chair in his home office. He looked through the peephole and saw a man staring back at him. “FBI open this door right now!” the man yelled after knocking again. He looked around the room before opening the door and putting his hands in the air.
“Are you David Mitchell?” the man asked as he walked in. Two others followed him in.
“I’m Mitchell.”
“Mr. Mitchell, put your hands down and take a seat on the couch,” the man said. He did as he was told and the first man ordered the other two to search the apartment. “Do you know why we’re here?” he asked and David nodded. “You’re running a Website from here, a popular one it seems. I understand you broke the story about Senator Keller’s kidnapping. Just how did you get that information?” Mitchell thought before responding.
“They were anonymous tips. I have an email address that anyone can send tips to.”
“How many do you get a day?” the agent asked.
“A couple hundred, I guess.”
The other two agents reappeared. “Apartment’s clear,” one of the men said. The agent interrogating Mitchell continued.
“You get a couple hundred tips a day and you publish a story online about a report you received that says the senator was kidnapped and driven off in a black van…” Mitchell was watching the other two agents who were looking at everything he owned. His eyes went back to the man talking to him.
“That’s right. Then I got another tip telling me the estimated age of the kidnapper.”
“You receive random tips all throughout the day… why act on these?”
“They seemed credible. The timelines worked.”
“Then you won’t mind showing me these emails, will you? I’d like to see them for myself.” The agent slowly revealed a smile, one that seemed to say I know you’re lying and I’m going to prove it .
David Mitchell sat for a few seconds, thinking it over. The other two men stood behind the agent, arms crossed. Mitchell had decided that the men were performing a light search of his apartment while the first man grilled him with questions.
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Mr. Mitchell, let me explain something. When you let us into your apartment, you consented to a search and no warrant is needed.”
“That’s not how it works. You need a warrant, signed by a judge, if you’re
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