Chapter 21 – The Weight of a Name
November 12, 1991 – Harvard, Langdell Library
The afternoon was gray, heavy with clouds that threatened a timid drizzle over Cambridge. Inside the library, the usual silence was punctuated by fingers typing words on keyboards, pages turning, and held breaths.
Logan was in the reserved study room. One of the smaller ones, with a round dark wood table, two chairs, and a whiteboard. His laptop was open a Tandy model rented from the school—and a white envelope was resting on the table.
It was sealed. With the seal of the New York State Board of Law Examiners.
"Are you going to open this or are you going to stare at it like it's a bomb?" Thomas said, coming through the door with a folder in his hands.
Logan looked at him, his eyes shining with a rare mix of anxiety and fear.
"It's not just a test result, Tom. It's… everything. It's my city. It's my name. It's my parents' names."
Thomas walked over to the other chair and sat down. "Mine arrived today too," he said, holding up his own envelope. "The difference is that I already know you passed."
"How?"
"Because I saw you study like crazy. Because you prepared more than anyone else. Because you read every damn New York penal code like it was poetry."
Logan let out a short laugh. His fingers trembled as he touched the seal. He swallowed hard, looked at Thomas… and opened it. For a moment, everything seemed silent, even though the world wasn't. Logan scanned the first few lines of the letter.
"Congratulations. You have successfully passed the July 1991 New York State Bar Examination…"
He read the sentence three times. His chest rose and fell faster. "I passed." His voice was low, almost a whisper.
Thomas leaned in. "Excuse me?"
Logan looked up. They were watery.
"I passed!" he said, now in a loud voice, standing up suddenly. "I passed, Tom!"
Thomas smiled broadly and stood up too.
"I knew it! I knew it, you talented bastard!"
They hugged in the center of the room, laughing, slapping each other on the back.
"I need to call my parents," Logan said, stepping back and pulling his phone out of his backpack pocket. "They... they need to know now."
"Go. Go. I'm going to check mine too."
As Logan hurried out of the room, Thomas sat down again, staring at his envelope. He took a deep breath. He opened it.
In the hallway – minutes later
Logan was talking on the pay phone in the library hallway, the coiled cord attached to the wall, his voice thick with emotion.
"Mom? It's Logan... yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I... I got my bar results. I passed, Mom. With flying colors.
On the other end of the line, Clara's voice faltered into a sob.
— My son... my son passed...
— Call dad... please call him.
Seconds later, Richard's heavy breathing echoed on the line.
— Dad... I'm officially a New York lawyer.
On the other end, there was silence. Then the deep, emotional voice answered:
— I knew it, son. I always knew it.
Inside the room again
Thomas wasn't smiling. He was silent, staring at the paper in his hands. Logan came back, already composed, and saw his friend staring at the letter.
— Tom?
Thomas looked up slowly, and then, an almost shy smile appeared on his lips.
— I passed too. And... with honors. One of the best results in the state.
Logan laughed, shaking his head.
— So that's it. We're ready. Real lawyers.
— Not just lawyers... — Thomas replied, holding up the envelope. — We are what we always dreamed of being.
November 13 – Celebration Night at the Apartment
The living room of the small Cambridge apartment was lit by soft lights. A soft jazz soundtrack filled the air, and the makeshift table served as a celebratory buffet: cheese pizza, soda, and a small bottle of cheap wine that Thomas had secretly bought.
"It's not champagne, but it gets the job done," he said, pouring two glasses.
"It's perfect," Logan replied, raising his glass. "A toast to... everything we've been doing since day one."
"And to everything we're yet to do."
"May we change the world," Logan said sincerely.
"Or at least not make it worse."
They toasted. The glasses clinked, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down. Two friends, two lawyers, two stories intertwined by fate.
Chapter 22 – When Pride Overflows
Cambridge, Massachusetts — December 1992
The trees in front of the Harvard Law School campus were bare, their thin branches covered in a delicate layer of fresh snow. It was as if the city were suspended in time, enveloped in a white, cold, calm serenity. Logan Moore's last semester was ending, and with it, three years of intensity, discipline, and sacrifice.
Inside the Langdell library, the atmosphere was the same as always: silent, almost sacred. Logan was zipping up his backpack. He had just printed out his last paper for National Security Law, a 38-page analysis of legal intelligence and counterterrorism measures, something that was only possible for someone who, like him, had previously interned directly with the U.S. Department of Defense.
As he stepped outside, he felt the cutting wind blow against his face, but he didn't mind. He smiled. A small smile, but a genuine one. The first semester of his senior year was done.
January 1993 — The Beginning of the End
Thomas shouldered open the apartment door, holding two grocery bags and grumbling about the cold.
"Logan! I forgot to ask you if there's any coffee left."
"Yes, there is!" Logan replied from the kitchen, wearing an apron that said "Lawyers Do It With Appeal."
Thomas dropped the bags on the counter and looked at his friend with an arched eyebrow.
"Do you really wear that apron?"
"It was a gift from Margaret. I can't let her down."
They laughed. The lightness between them was natural. Over the past three years, they had become more than roommates, more than friends—they were brothers by choice, loyal, present in each other's lives through thick and thin.
"This semester is going to fly by," Thomas said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Have you decided whether to go straight to the L.L.M. yet?"
Logan nodded, stirring a pot of gravy.
— Yes. I've already been accepted to stay here, focusing on Criminal Justice and National Security. I'll apply for some fellowships later.
— Any chance of going back to Washington?
— If all goes well... yes. But before that, there's something more important.
Thomas looked at him curiously.
— What?
— My parents. They're coming to my graduation. With the DOD money, I was able to pay for their flights, lodging... everything. It's been over three years since I've seen them, Tom.
Thomas smiled broadly, touched by Logan.
— They're going to be so proud of you.
— I just want to be able to hug them. Show them that it was all worth it.
May 1993 — Graduation Day
The Cambridge sky was clear that Saturday, the sun shining brightly, warming the streets with a soft, golden light. Harvard Law School's traditional commencement ceremony was held in the campus courtyard, with families, classmates, and faculty seated in long white rows before a stage draped with scarlet banners and flags. Logan wore the black gown and scarlet sash bearing the school's insignia. His eyes darted through the crowd, searching for two faces he hadn't seen since he was seventeen.
"Are they here?" Thomas asked, standing next to him, adjusting his own gown.
Logan was about to answer when he saw them. Standing near the second row were Richard and Clara Moore. Richard's hair was now streaked with gray, and Clara wore a simple but elegant navy blue gown. They were both crying quietly, but with palpable emotion.
Logan felt his chest tighten. His legs moved on their own. He ignored protocol, ran around the sidelines, and hugged them tightly, kneeling before them like a son returning home.
— Mom... Dad...
Clara hugged him as if she was afraid to let him go again.
— You're so... grown up. And beautiful, my son. Such a... man.
Richard held him by the shoulders, his eyes moist.
— And now he's a lawyer. Graduated from Harvard. My God.
— I only made it because you believed in me — Logan said, his voice breaking.
The people around them looked at them tenderly, some taking pictures. The scene seemed like something out of a movie.
After the ceremony – Private reception
Logan, now officially holding his J.D. diploma in his hands, walked alongside his parents and Thomas, who introduced them to his own: George and Margaret.
— Mr. and Mrs. Moore — George said, extending his hand. — It's an honor to finally meet the parents of this brilliant young man. Logan is like a son to us.
— He spoke highly of you and Madam — Clara replied, with a shy smile.
Margaret held Clara's hands.
"Your son is special. And our Thomas wouldn't have gotten this far without him."
Thomas looked embarrassed, but Logan just smiled.
"The truth is, we got here together. Always pulling each other along."
George raised a glass of champagne.
"So let's toast to that: to effort, friendship, and family."
Late afternoon – Campus tour
Logan walked with his parents across the lawn in front of the college's main building. He pointed out the places where he spent hours studying, where he discussed cases, where he met Thomas.
"This is where I was called by surprise by Professor Kennedy on the first day — he said, laughing. — Total butterflies in my stomach.
Richard watched everything with pride.
— This college, Logan... has centuries of history. And now your name is part of it.
— Not only that — Clara said, touching her son's arm. — You've carried our name this far. Moore is not just a surname. Now it's a symbol.
Logan took a deep breath, looking at the sky.
— And there's still more to come. I'm going to continue my L.L.M. — he said, with a smile. — I want to continue working on national security cases. Maybe go back to the DOD later. And who knows... one day, federal justice.
Richard put his arm around his son's shoulder.
— Whatever it is, we'll be with you.
— Always — Clara added.
Chapter 23 – The Silences of Those Who Know Too Much
Cambridge, Massachusetts — June 1993
The early summer sun gently warmed the sidewalks of Cambridge. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the days seemed longer, slower. For the first time in years, Logan Moore had time. Time to walk without looking at the clock. To wake up without a case on his mind. To laugh with his parents Richard and Clara as they ate breakfast in a small apartment he rented in the city.
Three weeks had passed since graduation. Logan was enjoying every minute of it. He took them sightseeing, walked with them along the Charles River, took them to campus to see where he had spent the most challenging years of his life.
One afternoon, they were sitting on a bench in the Boston Public Garden, watching the swans.
"It's been so long since we spent a summer together," Clara said with a soft smile.
"Since you were what—twelve?" Richard finished. — After that, you spent your summers studying martial arts, then summer schools, and now...
— Now I'm a lawyer and I'm already on my way to the next level — Logan said, smiling. — But no matter how high I climb... I always come back.
Clara held her son's hand.
— You have no idea what this means to us, Logan. You've never lost who you are.
Mid-July — Airport
The sound of the public address system echoed through the terminal. Clara adjusted the scarf around her neck, while Richard helped with the bags. Logan stood a little further away, watching his parents about to board the plane back home.
— Are you sure you don't want me to walk you to the gate?
— I've already driven us here, son — Richard replied. — And we know you have a plane to catch too, remember?
— Washington can wait a little longer.
Clara hugged him tightly.
— We love you, Logan. Please take care of yourself. Working with this government stuff... it scares me.
"I know, Mom. But trust me, okay? I'm good at this."
"You're more than good," Richard said. "You were born for this."
They said goodbye, and Logan watched them disappear through the terminal entrance. He took a deep breath. He was back in Washington, but this time, not as an intern.
Washington, D.C. — End of July
The capital's climate was heavy. Summer brought suffocating heat and humidity. Logan was back in the discreet building that housed the Department of Defense annex, where he would now work in his new position: assistant legal analyst with direct access to classified documents.
After passing through security, he was led to a new area. Unlike the rooms where he had interned before, this one had restricted access, reinforced doors, and cameras at every angle. After several biometric checks, Logan was directed to a secluded room, where Dr. Rebecca Rowe was waiting for him.
— Moore — she said, standing up. — Welcome back.
"Dr. Rowe," he replied, shaking her hand firmly. "It's a pleasure to be back."
She motioned him to sit down.
"First of all, congratulations. You graduated with distinction. Harvard continues to produce monsters."
"And you continue to train them," Logan said, with a slight smile.
Rowe opened a folder with several documents.
"We have a lot to talk about. But let's get straight to the point: you have been approved for TS/SCI clearance. The decision came from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence after a thorough background review, psychological tests, and interviews with multiple references. Your profile is considered exemplary."
Logan felt a chill run down his spine. He knew what that meant. That clearance was not granted lightly. It gave access to operations that often not even Congress knew the details of.
"That means that…"
"It means that you now play on a different level, Moore. Starting today, you'll have access to briefings that most people in government will never see. Plus, we'll start integrating you into risk assessments for investigations involving national security and transnational threats."
Logan nodded, taking in the weight of responsibility. "Understood."
"One important thing," Rowe said, closing the folder. "You're already familiar with the protocols, but they're more rigorous now. Your life outside of here… will be different. There will be silence. Secrets you won't be able to share, even with the ones you love. Are you ready for that?"
Logan thought about his parents. Thomas. Everything he'd left behind. "I am."
August - Classified Briefing Room, DOD
Logan's new routine began at 6:30 a.m. He'd wake up, run 3 miles, take a cold shower, read the previous day's legal briefs, drink black coffee, and head to the building. In the restricted office, he passed through three checkpoints before accessing the SCIF (Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility), where the briefings took place.
That morning, Logan sat next to Dr. Rowe and three other analysts. One of the directors of the legal intelligence sector entered, his expression grave.
"We're dealing with a case of interception of sensitive data that may have been compromised by an outside agent. Moore, I want you to review the legality reports for the operation we authorized in June. We need to make sure everything is sealed—and that if we need to testify before any committee, we're legally covered."
Logan took the folder. He looked at Dr. Rowe. She nodded.
"Consider this your first official assignment."
Night - Apartment in Washington
Logan would come home exhausted, his eyes tired but his mind still sharp. He would sit on the couch, pick up the phone, and call New York.
"Hello?" Clara answered.
"Hi, Mom. It's Logan."
"Son! Are you okay?"
"Yes, you are. The work is hard, but I'm learning a lot." I can't tell you anything yet, but... it's important.
— Just hearing your voice makes me feel calmer. Your father is here, he wants to talk to you.
— Send him!
Richard's voice came on the line.
— Logan. How are things over there?
— Intense. But I'm where I always dreamed of being, dad.
— We're proud, son. Just... take care of yourself, okay?
— I promise.
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