Nope, not opportunity
Well, it wasn't opportunity knocking on my door, rattling the knob.
Definitely not.
Mike Sexter called me a few minutes after I finished my last post, and asked me if I knew about the business down the hall. Sure, yes, I know about them, what's up?
Well, the guy knocking on the door a bit ago was a local Channel 2 reporter looking for someone to talk to about the office down the hall.
Apparently, one of the employees of the business two doors down, the one with the keypad entrance on the door, the one whose keypad's last lock combination was known to our office since one of the employees told another employee standing outside our office door when Doyle was listening. The current combination is half known because I watched one guy type in the combo as I was walking upstairs one day, so you know the place is secure.
Totally secure.
Well, working at this company was, according to Sexter, a brother of a known terrorist who has been on the FBI's wanted list since 1990. The man working at this company had been sending his brother information (don't recall if Sexter said money, too).
Yesterday, the FBI came by and ("they're much quieter than the local police," says Sexter) arrested the guy as a terrorist.
This was according to the reporter who, wanting an interview with the people in the office next door, knocked and pounded on my office door.
Sexter, in the next office over from me, and the only one in on Friday with the office door unlocked (yay, Fridays!), did give an interview. Instead of making the obvious comment, "He seemed like such a nice guy," Sexter commented, no, he didn't know the guy and no, it's not like anyone had a neon sign around his neck that flashed "Terrorist! Terrorist!" That's the whole point of terrorizing someone: blend in so that everyone else doesn't know where the next source is coming from. Duh.
Okay, I put words into Sexter's mouth on that last one, he only commented there wasn't anyone who you would suspect as a terrorist walking around the office building's halls, pissing in the next stall over. But that really is the point. You can't judge a book by the cover, and you can't tell the terrorist by his clothes. You can probably tell the terrorist by the bombs strapped to his chest, sure, but maybe not - what if he's the victim of someone else's kidnapping and bomb strapping? Okay, maybe if he's yelling something about "Death to the infidels!" while running with bombs strapped to his chest, then you can tell the terrorist by his choice of evening wear, fine.
But some guy working in the office next door?
No. Not so much.
By not answering that knock on the door, I have to say, damn, I missed my 15 seconds of fame.
At least I get a blog post out of it.