The AG ruled against them all the way down the line.

It was 60 pages or so. They said they had to go across town to get the information and...they put two full-time people on it for two days. They didn't think I'd come and pick it up. But I did and called the attorney general's office.

I had asked them for an open records request over some rumors about the school district and their expense accounts. People tell me they're taking these trips...where they're spending $250 a night on hotel rooms. I confirmed that and I don't think they wanted to give that to me.

I was never a good journalist, because I would make things up. A lot of people frowned on that, which is why I ended up in fiction.

In that inevitable, excruciatingly human moment, we are offered a powerful choice. This choice is perhaps one of the most vitally important choices we will ever make, and it determines the course of our lives from that moment forward. The choice is this: Will we interpret this loss as so unjust, unfair, and devastating that we feel punished, angry, forever and fatally wounded-- or, as our heart, torn apart, bleeds its anguish of sheer, wordless grief, will we somehow feel this loss as an opportunity to become more tender, more open, more passionately alive, more grateful for what remains?

Police officers don't get a special set of rules. The law applies to them as it does anyone else, and that comes from a case on internal investigations.