When telling the truth could cost you your job.

I wouldn’t be going to you guys if it wasn’t important. I mean, you guys, you’re the feds. Big Brother. You can get the plant shut down, y’know? It’s been my only job for twenty years, and nobody’ll hire me if they find out I’m why it shut down.

But I just can’t take it anymore.

We got bought out four months ago. Since then, we had the -fastest- retooling of the plant I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think there wass a reason for it all. Okay, so there’s profit in the business. Enough to work us all to the bone just to get ready for a new product line?

But my new supervisor… well, one night, after everyone else had gone home, I went out to do some work that needed to get done… and I saw my supervisor standing over the machinery, sayin’ somethign in some strange language… I figure he’s a terrorist, right? So I tell him to turn around…

And he’s holdin’ a dead kid in his arms, lettin’ the boy bleed all over the machinery. I could see it seeping in, mixin’ with the controls, maybe even into the product… I turned and ran. He had a knife. I ain’t a cop… I’m no hero.

But you guys, you’re the feds. You can go in and get this guy, right? ’cause the next day… I found bits of dried blood on all the machines there… even in the plastic vats. It’s too big for me to handle. I need you to do something about it.

I mean, hell, my kid plays with the toys we make there.