My biggest fear, though, and the one that caused me the most anxiety was that the story of my indictment and arrest would leak out in the press, especially since the public doesn't generally know the difference between someone who's indicted and someone who's guilty. I was petrified for my career, which had been going along so beautifully. But certainly no editor would ever give an assignment to someone indicted for sending bomb threats to people she had exposed. And if I was forced to leave freelance writing, which I had worked so hard to succeed in [[I already had four books out by the time I was 30]] and was one of the few people to do so, I doubted whether it would be easy for me to get a job again with that kind of background if it was publicized.
These problems hounded me for years, as did acute anxiety about possible public humiliation -- and the fact that it was all so bizarre made it likely to get extensive press coverage -- to me and my parents. I hardly wanted every detail of my life coming out in the newspapers while looking like a criminal and I felt even worse for my poor [[adoptive]] parents. Everything I had ever done in my life had been to make them proud of me, and not feel that they were wrong in adopting me. And now we were all about to be hurt and embarrassed publicly.
I was to realize much later, however, that it was consistent with my taking a pile of stationery and tossing them to Joy's side, as I frequently did with her stationery which cluttered up my section of the apartment.
In addition, I was later to wonder whether Margie Shepherd [[the mysterious woman who visited my apartment right before the bomb threats were sent]] hadn't placed that paper under the clipboard which held the petition I signed (which also would have [[line undecipherable but it probably said "also would have explained the fingerprint being only 1/4 of a finger on one side only)."]]
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