“Teenagers don’t have a clue as to the broader scope of their actions,” Jo Jo says. “They think they live in an inviolable bubble that cushions them from threats. Javier can attest. If there’s one thing we’d like to get through to the families, it’s this: The Internet is like Pandora’s box. Once you let something out and online, it’s virtually impossible to put it back in. I tell folks, be watchful of recording devices, and be borderline paranoid of your surroundings.”
Jo Jo turns this into everyday fodder, as though we’re discussing teaching children to safely cross the street.
“Isn’t it a little late for this conversation?” Bobby asks, the color draining from his skin.
I finger the collar of my blouse. Nervousness has me licking my lips until the lipstick is gone.
“We’d been firm with the girls,” I say. “We talked about that stuff all the time.”
“How serious is this?” Bobby asks.
Jo Jo leans forward when she replies. “Your daughter’s a minor. If she was coerced in any way, or if someone drugged her, those are significant offenses, punishable by law. Further, whoever videoed her and shared it can be charged. However, it’s exponentially worse once it hits the Internet. We’re in the age of digital voyeurism, Technological Tom, as in Peeping. Child erotica, porn, sexting, they’re all dangerous. Whoever filmed her is in trouble. And whoever watched it, and anyone who sent it to their friends can be charged with possession and distribution of child pornography. That means every kid at Zoe’s school could face some form of penalty even if they did nothing but receive the video on their phone.” She pauses while we absorb the severity. “Let me be clear. If an adult watches or shares the video, myself included, they can be charged, too. If convicted, they’ll have to register as a sex offender.”
I never fully appreciated the term Coming out of my skin until this very moment. The discomfort, the agony—it creeps up and down my arms and legs. This is criminal. I look at Bobby. His empty eyes stare at the floor.
“Look,” Jo Jo begins, “it might be wise for all of you to talk to someone, professionally. Zoe needs a confidant she can trust, someone she feels she’s not letting down. It’s hard sometimes for a young girl to expose herself to her parents. There are counselors at the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative who work with victims, unfortunately, all the time.”
“She’s seeing the guidance counselor at school,” I say.
“What about you two? How are you holding up?”
Neither of us responds.
Jo Jo shuffles papers on her desk. “You flagged the video as I instructed?”
“We did,” I say.
She turns to her computer and types. “It’s still there.”
The news is a blow, and I wish there were a way to pull the Internet plug.
“Did Zoe have any indication she might have been videoed? Could she have videoed it herself?”
Bobby’s indignant. “Zoe was videoed unknowingly.”
Javier eyes us sympathetically. “Every parent wants to believe they know everything about their child. It’s not always the case.”
Excuse me, do I know you? No. No. No. I know my daughter. But the question gnaws at me.
Jo Jo interrupts my denials. “We’ve established that while Zoe’s underage, she agreed to the acts performed in the video. Blood work at this time is pointless, and there’s no evidence of physical assault. But there is a cybercrime. You said her face is identifiable?”
“Yes,” I answer. “And it says her name. And the boy’s.”
Bobby clears his throat, and I stare at my clasped fingers. Jo Jo lets that sink in before moving forward. “The laws are getting tougher and stricter pertaining to sexting when a minor’s involved. There’s sexual cyberharassment and the distribution of child porn.” The words spring from her mouth as though she’s repeated them one too many times. “Sexual cyberharassment covers materials uploaded to the Internet, ones where the victim is clearly recognizable or identified. It does not cover those spread via texting. It’s a lot of information I’m throwing at you, but you need to understand.”
My head lowers farther toward my lap, and I’m studying my fingers and nails. I need clarity. With each second that passes there is a new fact to remember, a new concept to absorb. I should probably grab a pen and paper, but I’m afraid of what I’d do with a sharp object. I clench the chair handles instead. Bobby is pale and defenseless. We are sequestered in our seats, apart. And Jo Jo, she keeps talking.
Trying to decide which issue to deal with has me woozy. The room feels unsteady, as if it might collapse under the weight of our worry. Javier joins in, but I’ve shut my eyes and begun massaging my temples. The pain is worsening. I want Zoe. I need to be near her, comforting her, loving this away from her.
It’s only then that I notice Jo Jo’s clothes. Rather than focusing on what she’s saying that has Javier writing furiously on his pad, I’m making note of the floral top and the navy slacks. The black flats with the silver buckle. Her fingers are bare of jewelry. What kind of person chose a field like this? The helplessness has to be agonizing.
“Why would someone do this to her?” I finally ask.
“Hurt people hurt people,” Javier answers. “Their goal is to shame the victim with a virtual attack. The real slimy bastards download their cache to underground sites. They’re virtually impossible to shut down.” He opens and closes his eyes in deference. “We have no control at that point.”
I’m washed down by debilitating fright. “What are you saying?” I stutter, unable to form a thought, shackled by a raging venom. “We may never get rid of this video? How can this be?”
Bobby’s eyes change. Their warm brown shifts to black. The disappointment spreads across his face. “It’s about choices,” he says. “Why would anyone put themselves in this position?”
“Bobby.” I’m unable to meet his gaze. “She had no idea this would happen.”
“How do we know that?” he asks. “She may not even remember.”
“I trust her!”
Javier stares down at his pad of paper.
“It’s understandable to be upset,” says Jo Jo.
“Maybe Emma will divorce me in twenty years and forget she has a video of us stashed in her hard drive.”
Divorce. The word startles me, and I hardly hear the rest.
“Then she gets a virus,” he continues, “and wham, we’re an overnight sensation. It’s not the people I trust who I worry about—it’s the predators who hack into your private lives. I operate with a heightened sense of mistrust. Don’t take chances. Be smart. That’s the solution.”
I know all about mistrust. Our eyes finally meet, and I don’t recognize who’s inside him.
“Mr. Ross,” Jo Jo asserts, “you’re correct in your vigilance, but kids today don’t think in the abstract like we do. Right now, Zoe needs love and compassion. Support. We may never know the reasons why this happened, and you’ll have to accept that, and her. Zoe’s well-being relies on it.”
It feels like a tiny victory, and Bobby backs down. I cross and uncross my legs before questioning Jo Jo. “Yesterday, my husband asked about YouTube’s parameters for content. Can anyone post this stuff?”
Jo Jo feels around her bag and retrieves an inhaler. She takes two puffs before putting it back. The minor threat to her health almost goes unnoticed; she’s composed and focused. “There’s no way for YouTube or any of these sites to censor the amount of material uploaded daily. Monitors can flag explicit content, but there are simply too many uploads to review every single one. Once a video gets taken down, the same one often crops up on another site under a different account with a different name. It’s the Internet version of Whac-A-Mole.”
My voice shakes, and panic rises up my throat. “How do we stop it? How do we stop it from going to that underground place? Or to another site?”
“I know this is difficult to hear,” she says, “but there’s a possibility we may not. This is the reality we’re
facing. Internet crimes are radically different from a catfight in the cafeteria and, unfortunately, longer lasting.” Her blue eyes narrow in regret. “I’m sorry. Technology is a predator with way too much power. I’ve seen more than my share of young girls in this situation. It’s always somebody’s daughter.”
I let this threat coil around me and drag me underwater. It’s always somebody’s daughter. Now it’s ours.
“We’ll do everything we can to bring these criminals to justice,” Jo Jo says. “Limiting distribution is key. Once we have that under control, we can focus on liability and recourse.”
“Meaning?” asks Bobby.
“To upload to YouTube, you have to have a Google account. We have methods of following the tracks, and my people in law enforcement can expedite this through their subpoena power. We’ll know pretty quickly if we’re dealing with a juvenile or a more sophisticated cybercriminal. The latter has ways of hiding their identity.” She pauses, checking the calendar on her desk. “Is Zoe able to meet with us today after school?”
Bobby searches my face for the answer.
“Sure.” I nod.
“Great,” Jo Jo says. “We’ll come around four. Javier will get started on the preliminaries. We’ll contact the boy’s family as well. A full investigation.”
At the mention of his name, Javier crosses the room to shake our hands. “I have young daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Ross. I’ll treat your case as if Zoe were one of my own.”
Jo Jo stands up and leads us out of her office. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Mr. and Mrs. Ross. Call me anytime. Day or night. Whatever you need. See you this afternoon.”
CHAPTER 19
Our conversation on the ride home is bitter and short. Bobby drives with one hand on the wheel while the other massages his temple. “What was she thinking?”
I want to say, She’s a young, impressionable girl doing what a lot of girls do. Only she got caught. I swallow it instead. My voice is shaky, but loud. “You have no idea how Zoe feels. You have no idea how she’s suffering or why she did this. You do this. You judge. It hurts people. I know you can’t believe what happened in that room, but your accusations . . . sitting on that pillar of moral virtue . . . Zoe made a mistake. She has to live with it. You’re only making it worse.”
He feels my gaze and turns.
“It’s sad we can’t be on the same side,” I add.
He doesn’t care. He ignores me, closing me out. When we get to the hotel, he disappears to his office, and I actually follow through on the wedding matters. Oozy butter sandwiches and all.
The girls walk in after school, and I pull Zoe aside to ask about her day.
She sulks. “I survived.” I inform her of Jo Jo’s visit. Her eyes glaze over, and her shoulders sag from her backpack. “I can’t.”
“Zoe, we have to. What this person did . . . we can’t let them get away with it. Or do it to someone else.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
I won’t give up on her. I won’t let her give up on herself. “You have to.”
“I want it to end. I want to make it go away.”
I wish for that, too, but not by burying it. My daughter must stand up for herself and fight. She must do what I was too afraid to do.
They unload their computers at the kitchen table, and Zoe types in her name. “It’s still not down.”
Bobby comes through the door, and his nearness puts me on the defensive. He doesn’t joke with the girls about recent Instagram posts from Random Turtle and UberFacts or join in the conversation when the girls bring up a summer trip. Today he’s closed off and focused on revenge.
“I got an A on the Spanish project,” Lily says.
He half smiles. “Good job, Lil.”
“Mr. Harmon is pressuring me about debate,” offers Zoe. “I’m excused from practice and the next tournament, but I don’t want to do it anymore. Period. I can’t imagine being the center of anything right now. Why doesn’t anyone listen?”
“Debate looks good for college,” he says without looking at her. He opens the refrigerator, asking for blueberries. He loves blueberries.
“I’ll call downstairs and have them send some up,” I say.
He’s annoyed. I’m a terrible wife. Luckily for me his phone rings, and he takes the call in the other room. Zoe follows him, but it’s to go to the bathroom and put in the new contacts I bought.
“Daddy’s acting really weird,” Lily says.
“He’s got a lot going on with work. And he’s very worried about your sister.”
The front desk texts me, letting me know that Jo Jo and Javier are on their way up.
I meet the pair at the door and usher them toward the kitchen. Jo Jo is poised, admiring our views along the way. Lily looks up from her phone and smiles.
“Zoe?” Jo Jo asks.
“Lily,” she corrects her. “Nice to meet you.”
Zoe returns with fresh eyes.
Jo Jo’s expression is part sympathetic and part fearless. She introduces herself and extends her hand. “I’m an attorney. And this is Javier Harden. He’s a private investigator.”
Zoe and Jo Jo study each other while Javier nods his greeting and vanishes to the periphery. Zoe caves into herself, shrinking before my very eyes.
Lily watches her sister, waits, then asks, “Do you want me to go in the other room?”
“No,” I say. “You stay here. We’ll go into the living room.”
“Unless Zoe wants me to stay,” she adds, searching her sister’s eyes.
Zoe tells her it’s fine. “Finish your homework. At least one of us will pass ninth grade.” A signal passes between them that’s hard to miss.
“Listen to them, Zoe,” Lily whispers. “They’re here to help.”
Jo Jo takes a seat on our couch and offers Zoe the space beside her. I sit on the other side so she feels me close. Her body hunches over as if she’s fighting the temptation to flee. Bobby walks in and shakes their hands before sitting across from us. He doesn’t look at me. He’s cracking his knuckles and tense. Javier, with his slight frame and trimmed goatee, prefers to stand.
“Am I in trouble?” Zoe asks, her blue eyes wide.
It’s hard for me to watch her. Blotches cover her skin and her features are tight, pressed on her face. My eyes rest on the gray fabric hiding the part child, part woman underneath, a contradiction of age and body and mind. Her posture closes her off, but she is bursting to grow up.
“I didn’t know you girls were twins,” Jo Jo says. “It must be fun.”
Zoe stares ahead blankly. “It’s all right.” She folds deeper into the couch and sneaks a glimpse at Javier. “Am I in trouble?” she asks again. “I know I’m in trouble with my parents, but with the police?”
“Zoe,” Jo Jo begins, her blue eyes full of sympathy, “I was telling your mom and dad how I work for people who have had Internet crimes committed against them.”
Zoe blinks.
“You’re a child in the eyes of the justice system,” Jo Jo continues, “and no matter how this video came to be, we have laws against filming them, laws against posting them on the Internet, or even sending them to a friend through a text.”
I can tell by the way Zoe is fidgeting with the string on her hoodie that she is spooked.
“You’re not in trouble,” Jo Jo reassures her. “We’re here to help.”
“What about the video?” Zoe asks. “When will it come down?”
Jo Jo’s high-pitched voice hammers away at the quiet. “As of about fifteen minutes ago, the video’s officially down. It didn’t have many views . . . a couple hundred.”
Bobby stretches back in his chair. “Thank God.”
I’m partially listening. I’m thinking of Zoe and how a couple hundred people have now formed their opinions of my daughter. How they’re judging her. Laughing. And God only knows what else. Jo Jo’s trying to make it better by saying we’re lucky, how it wasn’t thousands or hundr
eds of thousands. That it’s very contained.
I want to tell her there’s no such thing when it’s your daughter engaged in sexual activity on a video on the Internet. Will she ever be able to apply for a job without it coming up? Will it affect her entrance to college? I stare at Zoe’s face while the thoughts attack.
“If it’s okay with you, Zoe,” Jo Jo says, “we’d like to ask a few questions and figure out what happened that night.”
“Why?” I think Zoe is about to cry again. “What’s it going to change?”
“Zoe, just listen to Ms. Sturner,” Bobby says.
I don’t tell her what to do. I move in closer and let her feel me near.
“You have rights,” says Jo Jo, “and you have to defend those rights. We’re not going to ask only you questions. We’re going to ask Price Hudson the same ones, and anyone who received the video.”
Zoe pulls the sleeves of her hoodie down past her wrists so her hands are hidden. “You may as well bring in the whole school.” She groans. “Stuff like this gets around quicker than a Snapchat.”
“Only it doesn’t disappear in twenty-four hours.”
Jo Jo’s knowledge of the girls’ favorite social stream seems to pique Zoe’s interest. She turns in my direction, because she’s beginning to understand the gravity of what she’s up against.
“I know this doesn’t feel good,” I say. “I know it hurts. I’m here.”
Jo Jo sets down her legal pad, and her eyes tell Zoe she’s here to fight for her, too. “We’re going to do everything we can to fix this.”
The momentary rally of support softens Zoe’s face. “Okay.”
“Miss Ross,” Javier begins, fixing his attention on Zoe. He has a nice voice, deep and full. “Do you have any idea who might’ve recorded you?”
She shakes her head.
“Did anyone threaten you?”
Another shake of her head.
“Was there anything out of the ordinary that night? Anything that stands out?”
“Other than a bunch of teenagers drinking and being stupid?”
Javier cracks a reassuring smile, and Zoe lightens.
Somebody's Daughter Page 17
