It was Saturday morning, and I had just finished reading the news.
The most intriguing story was about the Virginia Board of Health, and the recent regulation it approved allowing state inspectors to procure lists of clients from abortion clinics, and to remove client files from those clinics, too.
Then I heard a stiff knock on the front door.
I opened it and found two somber men in drab suits on the front porch. One was holding a manila folder.
“Mr. Casey?” the bigger one asked.
“That’s me,” I said.
“I’m Sergeant Joe Friday.” He motioned to the shorter guy. “This is Detective Bill Gannon.”
Friday squinted, and flashed a badge.
“We’re inspectors from the Virginia Board of Health. It’s about your daughter, sir.”
I inhaled sharply. “Has she been in an accident?”
“She’s fine,” Gannon said. “No accident.”
“Thank goodness,” I replied.
Friday frowned. “The problem is, she’s been to Planned Parenthood, sir.”
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