Disorderly Conduct. Mary Feliz
but took the phone, pausing before he lifted it to his face. “What do I say?”
“Tell him what you told me. And answer his questions the best you can. You know Forrest. You can trust him.”
David swallowed. “Forrest is cool,” he said, mostly to himself.
He walked out into the hall while I woke up my sleeping computer to show Max the website. He grimaced as he scrolled.
“Teddy saw this? Has Tess? Seriously...this is terrible stuff. Poor kid. Can Forrest get rid of it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard that Facebook is more responsive to cyberbullying these days, but that’s just a rumor, nothing official. And I don’t know about other platforms, or whether this site is built on one.”
“But this is worse than cyberbullying, isn’t it? Doesn’t it count as libel or something criminal?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I called Forrest. I didn’t expect him to actually answer. Does the man ever sleep?”
“He’s like an air fern—or at least he was in college. A quick catnap and he’s sharp for hours. He used to take twenty-four credits and have more free time than those of us who struggled with sixteen.”
“I hate people like that. I mean, except for Forrest, of course.”
“Why is David talking to him? Why are our teenagers handling our legal affairs?”
“David’s the one who showed me the site. I figured he could tell Forrest directly how long ago he first saw it, whether it has changed, and if he knows anyone who might have created it. It has to be a kid, right? A kid who has it in for Teddy?”
Max shook his head. “I could probably figure it out, but Paolo needs to know about this.”
Paolo had joined the police department almost two years earlier, hoping to specialize in cyberbullying and other offenses, particularly those in which adults victimized minors. He’d wanted to work locally, giving back to the community that had nurtured him as a kid who was outside the mainstream. In choosing Orchard View, however, he’d selected one of the few local police departments in which specialization was seldom possible. Each officer had areas of preference and expertise, but in Orchard View the law enforcement staff was so small that everyone did everything, from patrol to detective work and public relations. Still, Paolo was typically consulted whenever a suspected crime involved online privacy, bullying, software, hardware, or data storage.
David returned, holding the phone out in front of him and passing it to me. He debriefed Max while I listened to Forrest summarize the legal issues.
“Is there anything you can do?” I plugged one ear with my finger to avoid going insane from listening to two conversations at once.
“Yes and no. We can call the web host’s legal team, explain the problem, and hope they’ll tell us who the page owner is and take the site down. The site violates copyright laws because they don’t have permission to use the likenesses of Tess, Teddy, or Patrick. Probably not for the other shots, either, because some still have the protective watermarks.”
“Watermarks?”
“Stock photo companies do it to protect the copyrights of their artists. You can use images for design purposes at no charge, but to display them without a blurred logo marring the image, you need to pay the artist and the stock house. Check the onscreen picture of the crime-scene guys in bunny suits. No way they paid for that image. I doubt any of the federal agencies will pursue it, but Orchard View and Santa Clara County will be interested. Both have cyber-safety teams that protect kids online.”
“Will that work?”
“Probably. As awful as it is that the web page targets Teddy, it may help us kill it. Web hosting services are responsive to shutting down sites that bully children, but the interpretation of free speech is broad online when it comes to adults. That’s changing, but any shift in the law would be too slow to help your friends.”
“But you’ve got a plan, right?” My voice caught, revealing my desperation. Max and David stopped talking and turned toward me, brows furrowed with concern. I smiled and waved my hand, trying to reassure them. Both seemed skeptical.
“We’ve had success with stern letters on legal letterhead,” Forrest said. “I’ll alert the law enforcement offices too.”
“Thank you. Teddy and Tess don’t need this right now. Or ever.”
Forrest sighed. “Modern bullying may have moved into the cyber realm, but some things don’t change. The best protection against this kind of stuff is friends. You look after Tess and Teddy, and I’ll do my best to make this problem go away. Tell Teddy to let me know if any other sites crop up. If he’s in charge of calling me, it may give him a greater sense of control.”
“When did you become the teen whisperer?”
Forrest laughed. “And tell Tess to call me when she’s ready. We can help her with all the paperwork that follows any death. It can be almost as big a nightmare as the death itself, and the pain of it drags on for ages.” I started to thank him, but the sounds coming from the phone changed enough to let me know he’d ended the call. Forrest could be abrupt, but he was one of the good guys.
Little did I know how quickly we’d be calling him for more help.
Chapter 8
Your supplies should include a gallon or more of water per person or pet per day. Remember that you’ll need water for drinking, washing, and preparing any dried foods. If your stash includes canned items, don’t forget a can opener.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Monday, August 7, Morning
Max and I dragged ourselves to the kitchen at the first stirrings of life among our critters, hoping to get the dogs outdoors, fed, and watered before they woke the entire household. Afterward, we set out cold breakfast items and brewed what would likely be the first of many pots of strong fresh coffee.
I made a grocery list and put it on the table for others to add to, then created another to-do list outlining questions I needed to ask Tess and projects my own family needed to tackle if we were ever going to return to our own digs.
Max didn’t need to read the words on the pad to know what I was doing. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knew my morning routine, every morning, involved a list of one kind or another.
“I’m taking personal days for the rest of this week,” Max said, twirling the dial on Tess’s kitchen radio. “I want to get up to the house today if I can. Al Johnson put a note up on Nextdoor offering his Bobcat tiller to anyone who needed it to plow firebreaks on their land.”
“He has a Bobcat? What for?” Few Orchard View properties were large enough or rurally oriented enough to warrant full-time ownership of a Bobcat. Most people, I thought, rented them if and when they were needed.
“He uses it to keep the weeds down, he says, to prep the soil for his vegetable garden, and to maintain that long gravel driveway. I think he transports it up to his Tahoe property in the winter to use as a snowplow.” Max’s eyes twinkled. “We need one, don’t ya think?”
I gave him a little shove, then handed him a fresh cup of coffee and tilted my head up for a kiss. “No, I don’t think we do,” I said. “We paved our driveway, remember? But thank him for loaning it to us.”
Max turned to his phone, scrolling through messages on what must have been the Nextdoor website. “Al started a trend. Local organizations are offering heavy equipment services to anyone who needs them.”
“Like who? I had no idea anyone had equipment like that.”
“PONY baseball, the schools, the city. Apparently, those giant ride-on mowers come with other attachments that can be useful. Who knew?”
“Make