The prosecutor had a question. So I opened the phone and dived into its content, messages, photos, videos. I extracted the elements useful for the manifestation of the truth and I recorded my observations in a report. I have provided some answers, my mission is accomplished.
I could write an article about it… how well I followed traces, how well I got around some protections, and how I finally found the evidence. In short, how I saved the world. It’s said to be good for the branding.
But we would miss the most important.
While investigating, I mostly got to know a stranger, I saw the world through his eyes, I shared his memories. Even if some were hidden. Whatever I take a step back, I can’t help but empathize with him.
I encountered a loneliness that searched for some meaning in life. And some manual to get through it. And believed that the answers’ll occur in social networks…
But she found only one new addiction that locked her permanently in a bubble impervious to the rest of the world. She gradually became isolated and estranged from her family. Its landmarks have become blurred, the barriers have vanished.
Until the line was crossed, justice had to interfere, and the phone lands on my desk for answers. But even when I find some, whatever I find, it’s too late.
So, like every time I yield my report, my head is full of minor chords as I think of all those lives that, while searching for help, get lost in cyberspace.