Silence is Rewarded, Truth is Hunted

Ding, ding, ding.

            The bell rattled softly as the door opened, letting in a cool breeze and the sunlight's warmth. Elliot closed the door softly and slowly, almost trying to delay the difficult conversation that he knew needed to happen. There in the corner, out of the way and almost out of sight, what Elliot craved was a table. This conversation would not want to be interrupted or disturbed. He sat down and pulling out a folder, one he had studied extensively for the last month of his life. Each page representing a day of investigation, and interviews, of sleepless nights, all ingrained into his mind.

            A waitress came over and took his order. Expresso, double shot with two sugars, which was very sorely needed.  While waiting for his drink, Elliot started taking out pages from the folder, each page telling their own tale. An insignificant tale by themselves, but when threaded and moulded together, they told a story of injustice. Approaching footsteps made him jump and attempt to cover up the pages hurriedly and sloppily, he looked up and breathed.

            It was just the waitress, bringing his drink. He gave her a quick smile of thanks.

He continued to look over his pages, adjusting his glasses as he needed to. Multiple pages filled with black lines, redacted files, covering the names and personal details, but still enough information to tell a story of corruption and lies, cover-ups and conspiracy. The names and actions of men and women whose entire lives could ruined, and their careers destroyed.

Ding, ding, ding.

            The bell rattled softly once again, signalling another arrival, he steeled himself, not turning and hoping, praying, it was not the arrival he had been dreading all day.

            A quick glance proved it was.

            Collecting the pages and files, Elliot hastily stashing them back into the manila folder just as the arrival sat down.

            “Hello, Simon.”

            He smiled back at Elliot, brushing his hair out of his eyes, the piercing hazel eyes which burned the very depths of Elliots soul, almost immediately, his smile dropped as if he knew he wasn’t going to like what Elliot had to say.

            “Hello Elliot, I would say glad to have a second meeting, but I fear you have something to say I’m not going to like.” The manila folder was sat in front of them both, filled with the files that both men had slaved over. Elliot’s eyes never left Simon’s. Simon’s eyes never left Elliot’s.

            “I can’t, I’m sorry Simon but I can’t run this story.”

            “What?”

            “I can’t run the story... there is no story to tell.”

            Simon grabbed the manila folder and pulled out the pages and pages of evidence and allegations. “There’s no story? Are you kidding me?”

            “I did my due diligence; The Hidden Lens Agency denies any wrongdoing and my sources within the government told me the exact same thing.”

            “Of course they would say that, they’re the government.” Simon leaned back, eyes finally leaving Elliot’s and stared at the roof. “The agency always back their own.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “My career is at stake, my integrity. You’re seriously telling me that you can’t put this story out to the public.” Simon looked back at Elliot, disappointment radiating from his body and sadness filling his eyes. Tears slowly dropped onto the table, each drop sounding like the raindrops outside. “Silence is rewarded; truth is hunted.”

            “I want to send this story, I really do,” Elliot told Simon. “The evidence is intense, the files are compelling, but I can’t run this story. My editors will never go for it, and my boss has shut it down, he won’t even let me share it outside my editors.” Simon looked down at the table. “You were my only chance, no one else would take me seriously.”

            “Simon, I think your allegations are true,” Elliot said sympathetically. “I think that the agency is covering something up, I believe you.”

            “Then publish the story,” Simon said defiantly. “If you believe me, if you truly believe, write the story.” Elliot passed the folder back to Simon, softly shaking his head. “I can’t, I’m sorry.” He got up and put his hand gently on Simon’s shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck.” Elliot left a tip for the waitress and left the café, walking into the clouds and rain, leaving Simon with the manila folder.

*

            Elliot finally got home, the combination of rain and traffic making it difficult to switch off and relax. He took off his jacket, and hanging it up, walking down the hallway to his kitchen. Other pages of notes were scattered across the bench. Additional research, interviews. Time.

            “Useless now,” Elliot said despondently, gathering it all up and throwing them away. He went to his computer and found what he was looking for. The finished article. Everything that Simon told him, everything in the manila folder, months of work. “Useless.”

            He went to delete it, wanting to move past this whole ordeal, but some deep part of him, the cynical side of him, told him to keep it. The evening news begun when Elliot finally got the television on, who needed to hear some good news, anything.

            “We begin this program with a report of the death of an unnamed, middle-aged man. He was found surrounded by empty pill bottles and bottles-”  Elliot jumped up, spilling his water all over the floor. His hand covered his mouth in shock and dismay. “-Police found a manila folder on the ground, with only one page inside saying-” he mutes the TV, already knowing what words were to follow.

            “Silence is rewarded,” Elliot said quietly collapsing into his chair, “the truth is hunted”.

            With one final glance back at the TV, he leapt up to his computer. He knew what needed to be done.

            “I believe you, Simon”.