The next day

Early the next day, Jeff called me. I was to meet him with my client at the Chicago Violent Crimes Division. Jeff had come across the same emails that Richard spoke of. They had been cc’d to Leung.

Chicago VCD was raucous with activity. In the hallway, two officers dragged a thin, handcuffed man who shouted about his rights. Richard and I passed a dozen or so tables cluttered with stacks of paper and coffee cups on our way to Jeff’s office. Detectives and officers hustled about. At one desk, a couple held hands and tears streamed down their faces as a detective solemnly read from a sheet of yellow paper. In the center of the maelstrom, a hysterical woman held her young son by the shoulders as she yelled something about statutory rape. To the right, a bored detective questioned three men who were more interested in a group of scantily clad women. Half-starved prostitutes with too much makeup on their young faces couldn’t care less.

Jeff waved from across the busy room and met us halfw