Chapter 43

Tuesday morning, the RCMP show up to school and haul me out of second period. They don’t cuff me or anything, but it is enough that it looks like I have been arrested, which starts the rumour mill again.

They don’t read me my rights, but neither do they tell me why they abducted me. Once at the station, the first thing they do is stick me in an interrogation room. There are three plainclothes police officers in there with me, whom I have never dealt with before. They don’t introduce themselves, so I have no clue who they are. The taller, dumber looking one asks, “What do you know about the Unabomber.”

“I know that I am not him, and so do you, since his first bombing was in 1979. That would make me 4-years-old at the time.

The pig called him the Unabomber which tells me that it was the FBI that asked them to question me, and it wasn’t one of the other agencies involved, tipped off by the FBI. Almost everybody else is still calling him the Junkyard Bomber, after the fact that his bombs are made out of base materials, making them look like they were made in a junkyard. The FBI got involved when Ted switched back to bombing universities. The term Unabomber comes from UNiverstiy and Airline BOMBER. The first bombs were sent to universities, but it was the first three bombs at airports and on an airline where they realized there was a serial bomber. Airports and airplanes aren’t in the FBI jurisdiction. When Ted switched back to bombing universities, the FBI got involved and discovered there were two earlier bombings.

The smaller bruiser says, “Don’t get smart with us, kid. You are in a lot of trouble. Now, how are you involved with the Unabomber?”

“It would be kind of hard for me to be an accomplice, considering he mails his bombs from Chicago. What am I supposed to get on a magical plane at recess, fly to Chicago, conspire with this guy then fly back in time for my next class? It isn’t me that is in trouble. I have had enough bad dealings with cops. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I am not saying another word until my lawyers get here.

They continue asking me questions about the Unabomber, screaming in my face, trying to intimidate me. When I was 15 in the other timeline, I had stood up to some drug dealers tried to force 13-year-old children to do hard drugs. They caught me, tortured me, then dumped what they thought was my dead body in a park at the centre of town as a warning to others not to stand against them. I obviously survived. My point being, I survived much greater torture than these guys could ever dish out. Screaming and acting like misbehaved children isn’t going to get me to talk.

It is almost 5 hours before I am allowed to see my lawyers. Since we were anticipating a cheap-shot like this, as soon as the police arrived at school, my guards would have radioed Paul. He would have immediately called my lawyers. The first of my lawyers would have arrived at the police station minutes after me. Technically, the police in Canada have the right to hold anybody for 48 hours without cause, phone call or lawyer. Since they have already let me see my lawyers, the police must have had to be threatened significantly, or this is a ploy to get me to talk.

Once my lawyers are seated, I begin, “I will need a few minutes alone with my lawyers, but before that, I need you, gentlemen, in here with the commanding officer of this police station.”

The three would-be torturers don’t move. After a minute or so, my lead lawyer speaks up, “It would be in your best interest to get the man in charge.”

Sneering, the tall dumb one leaves and comes back with another officer that I don’t know. The rank on his shoulder is that of an Insp, and his name tag reads Martin. Considering how often I have dealt with this detachment, I know that this is not the detachment’s commander.

“That is not the man I asked to see. Inspector Martin, you are obviously in charge of these men, so you will do. Have you ever wondered why people like me have multiple lawyers show up to things like this?”

The Insp is flippant as he says, “I suppose you are about to tell us.”

“Telling things to people like you is no good. It doesn’t sink in. I figured I would show you so that you will remember it a bit better.

“The four of you and the RCMP as a whole are going to be sued. Normally, when you hear that, you don’t care. Your silly little union provides you with enough insurance that it typically covers you, and you don’t have to worry about it.

“Canadian law is such that for me to sue you, I have to prove financial loss caused by your actions. For the most part, that is difficult to do, so harassment and defamation suits tend to be thrown out.

“Here is where this case is different. I am a child, but I am also a business tycoon. I am the second-largest employer in the Greater Victoria area. Since I am a child, it is challenging to attract adults to work for me, and I am forced to pay 15% above the going rate, or they will find jobs elsewhere, even in this weak economy. Because of this, I’m forced to use legal child labour. The minimum wage is $2 less for a child than an adult. That means I have to pay an adult roughly $5/hr more than a child.

“My original staff was made up entirely of child labour. Since I came to Victoria, the police have constantly publicly harassed me. This has caused many parents to refuse to allow their children to work for me, even though the incentives for a child working for me are great.

“I provide time at work for children to do their homework while being paid. We have tutors, and we offer incentives for children to be physically active. Almost all of my employees are on the honour roll, and most of the rest are on their way there.

“Since the week school started, I have lost 237 child workers. Most of them would have stayed with me until graduation. Other child workers would have replaced any that left. The company has been split between locations, and I only anticipate 10% of the growth will be within Canada. Allowing for growth, future hires and lost labourers, your antics are quite costly, and we will be coming after you for it.

“Unlike most lawsuits, this one is big enough to warrant a team of lawyers, so we will also be going after you for court costs and legal fees. I will continue to find other areas where your antics have caused me financial hardship. In the end, you four will owe me millions, and your precious insurance only covers a small amount.”

I look at the junior-most lawyer. He gathers his things and races out of here. I then look back at the cops and say, “That, gentlemen, is why I need multiple lawyers at a simple questioning.”

The Insp is a bit flabbergasted and says, “You can’t do that.”

“I already did. You will likely receive a writ informing you of my intent to sue within the hour. The lawyers only needed the names of the interrogators, that were illegally interrogating me.

“You can’t interrogate a minor without the guardian or legal representative. You still haven’t allowed me access to the legal representative or my guardian. He is in the waiting room. Can you invite him in so we can begin?”

Like a good boy, tall and stupid heads out of the room, returning with Paul. The first thing Paul does is provide the Insp with a notarized letter, permitting him to act as my guardian, but only in legal matters such as this. He then sits down in the seat vacated by the junior lawyer.

“You might as well give them the letter.”

Reaching into his pocket, Paul pulls out the letter and sets it on the table. Tall and dumb grabs it, opening it up, saying, “What is this?”

I shake my head in disgust, and Paul cringes. I state, “Meathead, you are contaminating evidence. That is a letter from the Unabomber to me. If you dust it for fingerprints, you will only find Paul’s and mine. He is quite good at hiding who he is. You won’t even find any traces of DNA.”

The Insp asks, “What is DNA?”

In Canada, we still haven’t used DNA for forensic evidence. The Unabomber was one of the first cases in the US where it was used. They scoured everything he might have touched, trying to find out who he was. They never found his DNA. Even if they had, there wasn’t a DNA database, so they would have to know who he was to compare the DNA and match him.

“Never mind, you might as well just give the envelope to the FBI before you contaminate it anymore, making the FBI think one of you is the Unabomber.”

Tall and dumb states, “So you have been in contact with the Unabomber.”

Looking at the Insp, I say, “Your intimidation tactics failed, so why continue them? You and your men grab a seat. Better yet, let’s go to a conference room. This place is getting cramped. There we can have a conversation like a bunch of adults. If you keep up with your childish behaviour, I will just get up and leave. Behave like adults, and you can claim you helped catch one of the most wanted men in American history.”

“Most wanted. He’s just another serial killer.”

“Actually, he isn’t. He has only killed one person, but the technology sector is scared. He has been targeting them since 1978, and he will escalate if left unchecked. The FBI is contemplating offering a million-dollar reward.”

The Insp decides that it is time to grow up, and he takes us to a conference room. We just get seated, and he asks, “Why don’t you just give us his name and address, and we can take it from there?”

“He has an IQ greater than 160. Do you not think he has thought of that scenario. As your comrade can tell you, the letter indicates that we have been negotiating. He has agreed to stop the bombings if we publish his manifesto, which he has agreed to write with my help.”

“What does that have to do with anything? If you know where he is, let’s get him.”

“As I said, he is ready for that. There are three things he is doing as we speak. He has begun writing his manifesto, in hopes that I am being honest. He is building a bunch of bombs, in case I double-cross him. And, he is watching his residence, in case the FBI shows up. I have him in a position that he won’t send any bombs unless we screw up, and you are asking me to let you screw up. The answer is no. I will not tell you who he is or where he lives.”