the conspiracy theories for your public defender.”
“I don’t need a public defender,” I cut him off, my voice dropping an octave, carrying the absolute, uncompromising weight of a senior data analyst about to dissect a flawed system.
“I need you to open the cardboard box containing the personal effects your officers confiscated from my coat pockets when I was arrested. Because inside that box is my encrypted smartphone. And the second you hand it to me, I am going to give you the exact GPS coordinates, the biometric heart
