A few of them had already been opened by our boss, mostly because people would address mail to whatever the first name was they found on our websites or social media pages, even if the subject really belonged to another person or department. It was pretty common for things to get rerouted before they made it to the right hands.
In this case, I’m guessing after the fifth letter she opened, she assumed that most of these were for me.
Thank you for teaching me about the weather. My favorite thing was learning about boobs.
—From Lucas in Miss Shirley’s class.
I rolled my eyes. Of course, boys would hear anything with the word boobs in it and gravitate toward that. The correct word washaboob, which was a type of dust storm, but boys would hear what they wanted to.
Thanks for visiting our school. I liked your presentation because we didn’t have to take any tests or sit in boring classes.
–From Andie in Miss Frizzle’s class.
Oh, and kids were also usually brutally honest.
“Any good ones in there?” Leah asked over my shoulder.
“A couple, yeah,” I told her, handing her some so she could help me read through them.
We chuckled at a few and shared them with each other and everyone else sitting nearby.
The next one I opened was different from the others. First, it was stuck to the bottom of the other letters thanks to jelly—the kind that came from a jelly donut. Second, it actually had a stamp and everything on the outside. Usually, the school letters came in a large mailer envelope sent by the teacher if there were a bunch of them together. Other times the teacher would put a dozen of the best ones in one single envelope and mail it. Every once in a while, you had one single letter that the teacher wrote but had all the kids sign the back of it. This one felt like that last option.
I opened it and began reading, noting very quickly that this was not from a teacher or a school.
Hello Iris,
My name is Steve, and I’m a crime podcaster. I read in a news article that someone from the weather service found the body in Lake Echo, and then I saw you on TV at the crime scene. I tried to search for an email address for you but was only able to find your name, so I hope this letter makes it to you. I am hoping you would be interested in letting me interview you for my podcast about what you saw that day. Even better, maybe you would be willing to meet me at the lake to show me where exactly the body wasfound and if you could re-enact the scene for my listeners. Did you happen to take any bones or even some of the dirt that was around it that day? If so, I can help you analyze it. Or maybe you could get some from the police and bring it to me. I’m an amateur sleuth, so I would be able to help you in that matter.
—Steve Stanton
“The hell?” I mumbled the question to myself, but Leah must have heard me.
“What?” she asked, grabbing the letter from my hand and reading it. “This dude is nuts!”
I muttered my agreement while pulling out my phone to text Agent Andrews and let her know about the letter and that if she hasn’t blocked off the area already, she may need to since some crazy person wanted to re-enact it. Oh, and that this guy wanted me to grab some of the evidence from the police so he could “borrow” it for his crime podcast.
She called me almost instantly, wanting details. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and I appreciated the concern, though it felt a bit like an overreaction.
“I’m good,” I responded. “It’s mostly just weird that someone would even ask this.”
“You’d be surprised at some of the crazy things these podcasters home in on.”
“How did they even know it was me who found thebody?” I asked her, knowing my name wasn’t publicly released.
“As much as we tried to hide it, the TV crew that showed up was clearly able to get some of your faces on camera,” she explained. “These people may be amateurs, but some of them do have some basic hacking skills and ways to get information. As long as there is even one picture of you on the internet with your name next to it, they can find it and go from there.”
That made sense, especially because I knew there were photos of me with my name out there from other public service events I had done in the past. But it was still creepy as hell how easy it was for people to get information about you.
“I’m headed out of town for a few days, but if something comes up, please feel free to reach out to me I just may not be quick to respond,” she told me. “I’d like to send someone from our team over to your office to pick up the letter if you don’t mind.”
She let me know to put it back in the envelope and prevent anyone else from touching it before they arrived.
“Doyou mind if I send someone over to collect it?” she asked. “Just in case he does show up at the crime scene, I’d like to have this as evidence to use if we need to arrest him.”
“Yeah, sure. I have absolutely no desire to save it, so it’s all yours,” I told her.
She let me know someone would be by within the hour, and then I thanked her and hung up the phone.
