Cambridge, Massachusetts — September 1993
The early morning light filtered through the window of Logan's new room. It wasn't the same soft light it had been two years ago, when he and Thomas had shared the small dorm in Harvard Yard. There was no sound of laughter, no hurried footsteps sharing the bathroom mirror, no heated debates over the meaning of a Supreme Court precedent.
Now there was silence.
Logan woke at 5:45 a.m. His body, shaped by the military routine of precise schedules, no longer needed an alarm clock. The room was functional, with few personal items: technical books, a pot of coffee, two framed photos one of his parents at graduation, the other of Thomas and his parents, George and Margaret, at lunch in Boston.
He sat up in bed for a few seconds, breathing deeply.
The first day of the L.L.M. program. A step beyond the J.D., a deepening of the areas he loved and now mastered. The program would be demanding, but Logan Moore was no ordinary student. At 22, he had already gained more practical and theoretical experience than many lawyers with years of experience.
He got up, made a strong black coffee, and drank it in silence, looking out the window at the city. Harvard Square was beginning to wake up: bicycles, distant voices, the muffled sound of passing cars. The world outside was in motion. And so was he.
Harvard Law School - Room 201, Pound Hall Building
The first class of the L.L.M. It was "Advanced National Security Law," taught by renowned professor Dr. Nathaniel Brooks, a former NSA legal adviser and White House consultant during the 1980s. He was a figure who commanded respect just by looking at him slicked-back gray hair, rectangular glasses, and a tailored suit that never seemed to wrinkle. Logan entered the room a few minutes early, as usual. He chose a table near the front.
Almost no one knew the others there many were foreigners, international lawyers and prosecutors pursuing their L.L.M. as a bridge to the American market. Soon, the professor entered. There was instant silence.
"Good morning. I'm Professor Brooks. I don't expect any introductions. You're here because you're good. And because you want to be better." He glanced quickly at the files. "We'll start by reading the Church report and the Hamdi v. Rumsfeld case. And before anyone asks: yes, we'll talk about war, terrorism, surveillance, and the limits of legality. If you think ethics and national security are parallel lines, maybe this isn't the right course."
There was tension in the air. Logan didn't look away. That's why he was there.
"Let's start with…" Brooks pulled out a sheet of paper. "Logan Moore. You. What's wrong with using the Patriot Act in extraterritorial contexts?"
Logan sat up straight, not hesitating.
"The Patriot Act, especially Section 215, was designed for surveillance on domestic territory. Applying it extraterritorially expands its jurisdiction in questionable ways, especially against foreign nationals in the sovereign territory of other countries, which could be construed as a violation of international law and, more specifically, the principles of the UN Charter on sovereignty."
Brooks raised an eyebrow.
"Go on."
— Furthermore, Professor, there are troubling precedents where this extraterritoriality extends to the collection of data from US citizens who communicate with individuals outside the US, which may cross the line of the Fourth Amendment, depending on how the data was acquired.
The silence was absolute.
— Interesting. And what do you propose as a safeguard?
— Periodic independent review by judicial committees, with a time limit on data retention, in addition to mandatory notifications to monitored citizens — except in cases of immediate risk to national security. The lack of transparency only breeds distrust, which undermines the legitimacy of the system itself.
Brooks stared at Logan for several long seconds. Then, for the first time, he sketched something resembling a smile.
— Welcome to the course, Moore.
Harvard Cafeteria – Afternoon
After class, Logan sat alone at a table in the corner. He had a turkey sandwich, a bottle of water, and a printed article from the Lawfare Blog about the use of drone strikes in allied countries.
That was when a voice approached, with a slight French accent.
"Excuse me… are you Moore?"
He looked up. It was a woman with dark hair tied back in a bun, round glasses, and a serious expression. She was holding out her hand.
"Marie LaFont. Prosecutor for France. I'm in the L.L.M. too. Your answer in class… was sharp. Impressive."
"Logan. Nice to meet you." He shook her hand. "Have a seat."
"Thank you." She sat down, crossing her legs. "Do you work in national security?"
"I work with the Department of Defense. Legal analyst. I started out as an intern, now I work as a direct advisor on some legal analysis."
Marie smiled.
"You already have a clearance, don't you?"
Logan nodded, without saying anything else. That kind of information wasn't for hallway conversation.
"And you?" he asked.
"Criminal prosecutor in Marseille. Trafficking, local terrorism. My government sent me here to learn how you do it…" she sighed, "this mix of Law and State with so much zeal behind the scenes."
"Not everything is that perfect," Logan said, laughing. "But the theory is nice."
They laughed. It was rare for Logan to relax like that with someone new.
"See you next class?" she asked, standing up.
"Sure thing."
Logan's Apartment – Night
Back in his room, Logan was reviewing his texts for the next class. The yellowish light from the lamp cast shadows on the stacked books. Soft instrumental music played in the background the soundtrack of "The Untouchables," which he always listened to while studying.
He stood up, walked over to the bookshelf, and picked up a dark wooden box. Inside were letters, photos, and a newspaper clipping with the headline: "Harvard Student Joins Classified DOD Internship Program."
It was only a paragraph, but he had kept it as a souvenir. He picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Thomas. Everything okay?"
His friend's cheerful voice rang out on the other end. "Logan! Man, I'm doing great. The office is a mess you should see it but I'm loving it."
"I knew you were going to rock International Law."
"What about you? How's your L.L.M. going?" Thomas asked.
"Intense. But good. It started out differently. I'm living alone now."
"Strange, huh? After all these years living under the same roof..."
"Very strange," Logan admitted. "But I guess it's part of growing up. You, me... we're changing phases."
— But we're still on the same team, man.
Logan smiled.
— Always.
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