Spring had just reached our quiet Seattle suburb. Rain tapped against the kitchen windows before sunrise, the coffee maker hissed, and cherry blossoms were beginning to open along our street.

With Detective Marcus utilizing emergency warrant powers, we opened Michael’s private deposit box at dawn. Inside was a black hard drive along with detailed medical files, blood test logs, and audio recordings of Michael’s secret meetings with Aegis executives.

One recording in particular was chilling. It was a recorded call between Michael and Julian Croft, the CEO.

"Mr. Croft, the batch of X-12 is unstable! It breaks down into organophosphates!" Michael’s voice on the tape was desperate.

"Listen to me, Johnson," Croft’s smooth, icy voice replied. "You stole that material. If you go public, you go to prison for twenty years, and your daughter gets nothing. Keep your mouth shut, or we make sure the police investigate you for intentional poisoning."

They had set Michael up from the beginning. They knew he had taken the drug out of fatherly desperation, and they used his love for Emma as a lever to cover up their lethal drug defect.

"We have them," Marcus said, his jaw clenching as the audio file ended. "This is corporate assault and criminal negligence."