But I was not that man anymore, and more than that, I did not want to be, and most of all Samantha would not have wanted the man who avenged her to be a monster of a slightly different kind than the ones who’d hurt her.

So we documented.

Every bruise became a photograph.

Every photograph became a page.

Every page became a brick in a wall that no amount of Harrington money or Harrington lies could ever pull down — because it was built not out of my fear, which was formidable, but out of the plain recorded truth, which is the one thing on earth that even the powerful cannot make disappear once enough copies exist.

Chapter 9 — You Have Accomplices