““When the plane landed at O’Hare Airport, the flight attendants asked the passengers to remain in their seats. Sitting eight rows back, Kyle watched as two men wearing standard-issue government suits—clearly FBI agents—boarded the plane and handed over a document to the pilot. “Yep, that would be me,” Kyle said, grabbing his backpack from underneath the seat in front of him. The elderly Hispanic man sitting next to him lowered his voice to a whisper. “Drugs?” “Twitter,” Kyle whispered back. He stood up, backpack in hand, and nodded at the FBI agents that had stopped at his row. “Morning, gentlemen.” The younger agent held out his hand, all business. “Hand over the computer, Rhodes.” “I guess we’re skipping the pleasantries,” Kyle said, handing over his backpack””
