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He continued walking through the sprawling construction site, growing more emotional with each
step, still thinking about how a single pill might have saved so many lives. That every single person
can have a sweeping and massive impact on the world they live in. Some choose to have a positive
effect, others a negative; some don’t know the difference. But most people think their role in this big,
big world is meaningless. Just a job.
With this realization in his mind, Jared walked up to one of the burly, seemingly bored security
guards at the One World Trade Center construction site, and he looked directly into the man’s eyes
and blurted out, “Thank you for your service.” The security guard looked back with complete
confusion. He thought the man in front of him—Jared—had gone mad. Jared said it again. “Thank you
for your service.” The guard peered at this strange man, perplexed, as he walked away. Jared’s eyes
were now welling up with tears as he came across another security guard. “Thank you for your
service.” He beamed. “Thank you for your service,” he said again as tears rolled down his cheeks.
He walked up to every single security guard he could find, some old, some young, men and women,
large and small. “Thank you for your service.” He knew he sounded like a crazy person, but he
couldn’t stop himself. He wanted them all to know.
“Thank you for your service.”
• • •
The following morning everyone streamed back into the courthouse as the judge instructed the jury on
what they were to do next. Ross, his mother, Lyn, and his father, Kirk, were there. Tarbell and Gary
too. Dozens of reporters and even more supporters. Except there was one person who wasn’t in the
courtroom: Jared.
As the twelve jurors entered the chambers to deliberate, Jared was on a United Airlines flight
heading back to Chicago. He had spent years, months, weeks, and days hunting for the Dread Pirate
Roberts, and he had been away from his family for so long during that chase. He didn’t need to be
away from his wife and son any longer, and he frankly didn’t care what the verdict was. He had done
his job.
As the plane landed at Chicago O’Hare International Airport, the same place the pink pill had
touched down almost four years earlier, Jared got a text message from Tarbell. The jury had
deliberated for a mere three and a half hours.
“Guilty on all counts.”
Jared smiled as he walked to his Pervert Car and drove back toward his house, where he walked
inside and was gleefully greeted by his son, who asked, “Did you catch the pirate, Daddy?”
“Yes, we did,” Jared said as they fell onto the couch to play video games together. “We caught
the pirate.”