“You know I’m not actually a wizard, right?” Victor complained when Nathan and I presented him with the teddy bear and a longwinded explanation at noon the following day. Phil was with us, since (to my annoyance) he happened to be the right man for the job. Phil had a lot of experience covering the metro section and was still on staff. Was he a creep? Yes. Was he also a good reporter? Sadly, also yes.

I’d explained the political considerations to Phil this morning at the Monitor. He was actually much more understanding than I expected. At least until he gave me an ultimatum and I understood why.

Phil wanted to leave The Monitor and take the story with him. Reluctantly, I agreed. It was only fair that he used the story as his golden ticket if he was going to help me to research and write it. Besides, I wanted him gone immediately. He was too much of a sexual harassment risk to stay on staff. There were plenty of excellent reporters out there who wouldn’t behave inappropriately toward young women.

“But the files should still be in the RAM if the data hasn’t been overwritten,” Phil asserted confidently.

“Yeah, in theory,” replied Victor, eyeing Phil suspiciously, “but there’s absolutely no guarantee that I’ll be able to get a thing off it.”

Victor picked up the teddy bear and popped out the card from its little hidden hatch in the teddy bear’s butt.

“These things give me the creeps,” he mumbled, “why does everything have to watch and listen to us all the time?”

The question was rhetorical, but Phil answered anyway.

“You think it’s creepy until you need it. One time my wife’s favorite babysitter had enthusiastic anal sex with her boyfriend on our couch,” he offered, “our kid was only a few feet away, sleeping like a log. We never would have known if not for good old Mr. Teddy.”

Nathan, Victor, and I looked at Phil with varying degrees of confusion, disbelief, and disgust.

“Um, thanks for sharing, Phil,” I managed, then immediately changed the subject, “should we come back in a little while, Victor? We don’t want to bother you while you work on recovering the video from the card.”

“No,” Victor said, plugging the SD card into a digital camera on his desk and tip-tapping a few things into his keyboard with his stubby, thick fingers, “this ought to be really quick, actually. There’s only one thing on here anymore.”

Victor frowned deeply and tapped for a few seconds, and then, as if by actual wizardry, a video popped up in a little window. We all watched as it began to play with rapt attention.

In the video, which was obviously shot in a very differently decorated version of Angelica’s bedroom, an elderly man was sitting up in bed, reading a newspaper. The Philadelphia Monitor, to be exact. The teddy bear must have been up on a dresser or table, because it had a near perfect view of the bed, and the man. This must have been Albert, I deduced. He looked quite a bit younger than eighty-nine. Not a day over seventy really. Still totally inappropriate marriage material for a woman in her twenties, but not nearly as infirm as I imagined. He was very much alive. A timestamp in the corner of the video coincided with the day that Albert died three years ago.

Albert continued reading the newspaper for a few minutes. It was impossible to tell what time of day the video was taken, but his bedside table light was on. There was a plate next to him on the table, with what looked like a half-eaten sandwich on it. Nothing happened for about the first three minutes of the video.

Just as I was about to request that Victor advance the video and see if anything useful was captured on it, the man put down the newspaper to look at the door. A noise must have captured his attention. Angelica entered the frame next. She looked virtually identical to the way she appeared today, right down to her snobbish expression.

There was no audio on the video, which was fine since there was no conversation between Albert and Angelica. She strutted through the room, disappearing from the camera and then reappearing a moment later. Meanwhile, Albert watched her momentarily and then unfolded his newspaper again and reached for his sandwich.

This wasn’t a very interesting video so far. Albert took a bite of his sandwich, turning his newspaper over to the comics section. He took another bite as Angelica reentered the frame for a second time, sitting down on a nearby chair to put on a pair of high heels she’d carried with her.

Suddenly, Angelica’s attention turned abruptly to Albert. He was laughing? No, he had been laughing at something he read, but now he was coughing. She watched him from the chair with wide eyes. Albert continued to cough, dropping his newspaper and then beginning to motion with his hands toward Angelica and his throat.

“Oh god,” I heard myself whisper. Nathan put a hand on my shoulder. The four of us watched the video in horror. We all pretty much knew what we were about to see, but it was still absolutely awful.

He took forever to die. In the grainy, silent video, Albert continued to gesture urgently to Angelica. She rose from the chair she’d sat down in, moving closer to him, but not assisting. Albert continued to struggle, pointing at his throat and clearly begging Angelica with his eyes to assist. Finally, when he realized she wasn’t going to help him, he reached over to grasp at the phone sitting on the nightstand.

Only then did Angelica act. She pulled the telephone receiver from his weak hand and stood over him as he continued to choke to death. I had no idea that it took so long for someone to die from suffocation. Eventually he slumped over in the bed, his extremities going limp and his head lolling over to the side with the eyes still wide open in panic.

Angelica continued to stare at him for a long, silent moment. She’d just stood there and let him die. Was this a murder? I wasn’t sure. It was definitely wrong. Only a monster could have just stood there and done nothing while another person struggled from a preventable death.

Eventually, Angelica moved. She turned and went back to the chair to put on her shoes with total calm. Then she rose and walked out the room, smiling slightly.

I buried my head in Nathan’s warm chest, and he wrapped his strong arms around me. Nathan looked like he was going to be sick, but he was taking this better than me. Tears were starting to leak out of my eyes. The general consensus was that Albert Hunt had been an asshole, but even assholes deserve mercy. That man died in pain while his wife watched him with all the affection she’d give to dying insect. Nathan and I clung to one another in silence. Each time I stole a glance up, the video continued, focused on Albert Hunt’s dead body sitting upright in bed. His eyes continued to stare into eternity and straight into the camera.

“Shit,” Victor said as the video cut off, breaking the silence after a few minutes. He looked completely horrified. I’m sure we all did. Except Phil. Phil looked excited.

“This is going to sell so many newspapers,” Phil said next, “can you put that video on this flash drive?”