Walking into the federal building that Monday felt different. I wasn’t dragging myself in this time, or shrinking under the noise outside. I walked with my head up, my steps steady. The reporters were still there, of course, shouting questions, jostling one another, but it didn’t rattle me the way it used to. It was almost like background static now, annoying but manageable.
“Mrs. Cross, are you here to see Brennan again?”
“I’m here for my scheduled consultation with federal authorities,” I said without slowing down. Calm. Controlled.
“Critics say you’re being manipulated, care to comment?”
I didn’t break stride. “Federal law enforcement doesn’t let civilians get manipulated by high-value inmates. There are protocols. Oversight. Believe me, this isn’t a free-for-all.”
And that was it.
