Dr. Albright’s confession hung in the air, heavy and shocking. We met several more times, always in discreet locations. She explained her anguish, her face etched with conflict.
“My oath requires confidentiality,” she said, her voice strained. “But what he did to Leo… and then to you… it violates every ethical principle I hold.”
She paced the small, private room we’d rented. “I’ve tried to manage his condition for years. He refuses proper treatment, denies the severity. His outbursts have worsened, become more frequent.”
“Why now?” I asked, needing to understand. “Why risk everything?”
She stopped, turning to face me. “He’s smearing a child, Ms. Jensen. And he’s using his illness as a weapon, twisting it into a public denial of culpability. I can’t stand by and watch that.” Her voice broke.
Finally, after another agonizing silence, she pulled a small, encrypted USB drive from her purse. “This is anonymized,” she explained, her voice barely audible. “It’s an excerpt of his medical history. Not a full diagnosis, but enough to confirm a documented pattern of aggressive behavior consistent with a neurological disorder.”
She pressed the drive into my hand. “It’s highly encrypted. You won’t find his name on it, but the dates and symptoms… they’re irrefutable. It’s dangerous, Ms. Jensen. For both of us.”
I held the drive, the tiny device feeling like a ticking bomb. This was the concrete proof, the secret Reggie had guarded with his life, now in my hands.
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