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The tweets and posts went out in waves, hundreds of them, starting at 2:34 a.m., surging around six and again at nine. Posted on the campaign’s Facebook page, on the pages of news organizations and gossip sites, tweeted out with their handles, with hashtags for #MattCason, #CasonShooting, #AJLA, and #TrueMen.

First they’d sent out the video, which wasn’t that hard to find—nothing was ever entirely gone from the internet. Blurred the boys’ faces so you could not see them, only hers, and put the sounds from a porn film over their voices.

The text they’d used was: “Sarah” is Beth Ryder. Ride her @RepMattCason everyone else has! #BethRyder

Casey wasn’t sure what woke her until her phone’s text alert went off, the loud orchestra sting by her ear jerking her upright, her heart pounding. Stupid me for not putting the thing on Do Not Disturb, she thought, fumbling for it.

5:55 a.m. There were three text messages showing on the lock screen. She’d somehow managed to sleep through the first two, from the morning show producer and Rose.

The most recent text was from Sarah Price.

You can run the segment now.

There were two police cars parked in front of the headquarters, along with several news crews.

The news crews weren’t a surprise, even though it was just after seven and the headquarters wasn’t open yet. But the police cars?

It only took a moment for Sarah to see what had brought them. Red and white paint splatters and blotches, all over the building’s brown stucco wall, the windows, the planters, and the dense, dusty shrubs flanking the walkway.

Their lot in front of the headquarters building was taped off. She drove around the back. The damage looked worse there, including scorch marks from a fire—a Molotov cocktail, maybe? That lot was taped off too. She kept going down the street to the next industrial building and parked in the lot for the brewery there.

She had no choice except to walk past the news crews. Three reporters with cameramen hovered by the walkway. Sarah didn’t see Casey or News 9.

“Hey, it’s Sarah, right? Would you have a moment to speak with us?”

“Are you Beth Ryder?”

“Sarah, could we get a statement from you?”

“Not right now,” Sarah said, ducking her head. She walked toward the entrance, staring at the cement pavers that were spattered with red and white paint. Then she raised her head and stared back at the news crews.

What was the point of trying to hide? Everything was out in the open now.

That’s when she saw someone from News 9—just a cameraman, the burly Latino she’d seen before. He stood back from the others, panning across the building, not focused on her.

For a moment, she felt a flood of gratitude like a warm bath, that at least News 9 was leaving her alone.

Of course they’ve already gotten what they wanted from me, she thought. They can afford to be generous.

“You work here?” the security guard at the door asked.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Name, please?”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. “Sarah. Sarah Price.”

He made a sound somewhere between a cough and a snort and looked her up and down. A big guy with a thick neck and a blunt crew cut. “Oh, yeah,” he said, the corners of his mouth sneaking into a grin. “I recognize you.”

“Security cameras don’t really show anything,” Angus said. “Just guys in masks with paint guns.”

“We’re going to have to have twenty-four-hour guards,” Jane said, shaking her head. “I can’t see any way around it.”

“Will the party pony up for the security, do you think?”

“Let’s hope. I think at this point we can make a good case for it. Capitol Police are covering Matt and the district office.”

“For kids with paint guns?”

“We don’t know if it’s kids. We don’t know if they’re connected to what happened at my house, or what just happened to Sarah. Or what happened in the park for that matter. We can’t take the chance. People who come here to work and volunteer need to feel safe.”

Sarah sat in Jane’s office with Jane and Angus. They were the only people at the headquarters. Others would be arriving soon, at eight, when Natalie usually came in and opened up the doors.

“How do you want to handle this, Sarah?” Jane asked. “I have a draft of a memo to send out to the staff, but if you’d rather make a statement yourself, that’s fine too. Whatever you’d prefer.”

Sarah tried to think about it. Her mind was blank. “I don’t really care,” she finally said.

“Okay,” Jane said, still watching her. “I’ll send it to you for your review.”

“I just want to do a good job,” she said. It was all she could think of to say.

Angus smiled at her. “That’s one thing we’re not worried about.”

She could feel the tears gathering. She hadn’t cried since she’d known she was about to get outed. She didn’t want to cry now, not in front of Jane and Angus.

“Thanks. I’d better get to it.” She picked up her laptop bag and started to rise.

“Sarah, keep in mind that most of the work you’re doing can be done remotely,” Jane said. “If it gets to be too much for you dealing with the circus, you don’t have to come into the office every day.”

“You think I’m a distraction.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Jane was silent for a moment. I need to learn how to do that, Sarah thought, to stop myself from saying things before I’m ready.

“Well, obviously your past is something we will have to address. And people who come in and out of the office are bound to be curious. But that’s just the way it goes on campaigns. Things come up, we deal with it, and we move on. What I am concerned about is the overall security here.” She turned to Angus. “How far do we go to vet volunteers? How can we make sure none of them are moles? Or … or worse?”

“Make sure we get ID, check our database to see what their registration is, maybe do a quick search on Facebook?”

“If we’re discreet.” Jane sighed. “Bad enough they have to come in past armed security. What kind of message is that giving about participating in an election?”

“Well, not like my people haven’t had to go through that kind of shit to vote before,” Angus said, a sharp edge to his smile. “Welcome to our world.”

“Point taken.” Jane paused again, frowned, as if she was going through a checklist in her head. “We’re going to have to ask to search people’s bags if we don’t know them.”

“If you’re worried about guns, they don’t need a bag to bring one in,” Angus said.

Sarah thought about the man in the park, the gun in his hand. The shots, the ringing in her ears, a sharp, caustic smell, ammonia and sulfur.

“Pat-downs? Is that what we’ve come to?” Jane took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She looked utterly drained.

“Yeah,” Angus said. “I think we have.”

Sarah thought about the guard stationed by the door now, the one who’d smirked at her, thought about him patting people down.

“There is something I’d like,” she said. “That guard who’s outside now? I’d like him gone. He’s an asshole.”

Jane and Angus both stared at her for a moment. They seemed surprised. But then, she’d never really asserted herself here before. She’d just kept her head down and done her work.

“Okay,” Angus said. “We’ll tell the company to send somebody different. And if anyone else around here disrespects you, you come and tell us about it right away.”

Sarah nodded. “Thanks.”

Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Maybe the guard hadn’t meant anything by it. But none of this was fair, so why should she be?

Cason Campaign Responds
to Harassment of Staffer and Vandalism of Headquarters

The candidate, staff, and volunteers of Cason for Congress stand behind our staffer, Sarah Price, who
has been the target of an organized campaign of harassment and hate. It is outrageous that a past incident in which she was the victim is being used to hound and threaten her today. She is a valued member of our team, and she has our full support. We are exploring all possible legal and law enforcement avenues to bring the perpetrators to justice.

We will not be intimidated, nor will we falter. We will continue to stand up for true American values of tolerance, respect and democracy.

Hey cuck @RepMattCason dyke @jane_haddad you can’t stop all of us #TrueMen will rise and wash filth like you and slut #BethRyder away #AJLA