Dansko just kept saying "holy shit, holy shit, holy shit" softly over and over again after my recording finished.

"I can't believe he admitted this."

"Do we really, really want to go through with this?"

Dansko looked me square in the eye. "Warnings have been sounded for years about all this personal data collection and its potential for being used for unethical consumer manipulation."

"Yeah, welcome to the good old U.S. of A."

"Well, this case has gone over the line."

Deep down I knew he was right.

The graphics department came up with a neat little animation showing a man and woman as marionettes and Powell as the puppet master. In the corner, a scraggly cat leapt from a sack.

"Master Matchmaker Lets the Cat Out of the Bag!"

Needless to say, before and after the story ran, Silverado and Powell's Pardners threatened dire legal action. Dansko basically told them "My lawyer can beat up your lawyer," and with a company the size of News of the Nation, that's true.

Armstrong escaped relatively unscathed in the story. Because I never spoke to him first-hand, he couldn't be named much in the story. To this day I've never spoken to the man.

The polymer sheets sold out at the newsstands and downloads topped a half billion. There may have been a camel driver in Baluchistan who didn't read the story, but he probably ordered a printed copy in the mail.

The news media soon picked up on the story. I saw videos of the Pardners office dark and empty in Dallas. The Silverado office in Plano was padlocked. I was interviewed for a few pieces myself.

I thought there might have been some hostility directed towards me for writing the piece, but Powell hung himself with his cynical words.

Another reporter at The News said the topic reminded him of menstruation; it may be true and it may be a fact of life, but no one likes to talk about it, and no one likes anyone who makes money from it.

It was a week later when Dansko called me into his office. He had a real serious look.

"I'm afraid the pendulum of public opinion might be ready to swing against you. Powell's dead."

I got a cold feeling in my gut.

"Did he commit suicide?"

"No, he was out drinking in a Dallas bar and woman walked up and shot him."

"Was it an ex-wife?"

"Umm, actually from what I've heard, it was his senior prom date. Like when he was in high school."

I just sat there.

"Take some time off, stay home, and I'll call you in a few days."

He nodded with a tight smile for me to head out the door.

I was almost out. "Don't beat yourself up, by the way. It was my idea."

"I know, it's just it just like the saying goes. Be careful of what you wish for."

"You might just get it," and he looked away.

Two days later the little food I had in my bachelor's refrigerator had run out, so I ventured down to the market.

I was standing in line at the checkout, waiting to wave my index finger at the scanner, and reading the poly sheets, when that old lady recognized me.

I just gave a tight-lipped smile. I scanned and scooted as fast as I could with my groceries.

Back in my apartment, I sat down and just vegged for a minute. I was numb. The Powell story was the biggest exposé in my professional career.

"Well, certainly got what I wanted in a big way," I thought. "When I let that cat out of the bag, he had rockets on."

I uploaded the latest issue of Editor & Publisher and began looking through the help wanted ads.

"Maybe I can find myself some sleepy little ink and paper job in East Texas," I thought as I scrolled.