We had just put the kids in the bathtub when Special Agent Robert Flaherty knocked on my front door with a subpoena. He was very polite, and used “sir” a lot, and he said he just wanted a name: Who sent me the security directive?
I invited Flaherty to sit down in the living room and introduced him to my cats, who seemed to take a liking to him. The kids came by to say hello, too.
“A subpoena?” I asked the special agent. “Is that really necessary?”
“Sir,” he repeated. “You’ve been served.”
Alright, then. I’ve been served.
Source: elliott.org
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