As they watched the episode that night on the couch together, Deirdre wouldn’t make eye contact with her husband. She did reach out for his hand, keeping her stoic eyes on the television screen. When he felt her touch, Jared realized Deirdre was passing him a note.
They watched the rest of the episode in silence. When it was over, Deirdre kissed his cheek and went to bed. Jared took the note to the only safe room in the house—the bathroom—and read it.
“Jare, don’t ever keep something like that from me again. We should go see your doctor. And don’t ever forget that they’re always watching. The more boring we seem, the sooner they’ll go away.”
But Jared knew that wasn’t true. He knew there was only one way the American Television Network was leaving the Stone house, and that was over his dead body.
***
The second episode of The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon was far more sophisticated than the first. In editing Jackie’s new footage—of the crew, of the Stone family, of the house—Max did a masterful job mimicking the format of Life and Death. He cut disparate snippets of dialogue together to make them appear as if they were from one conversation; he used a narration Jackie had recorded, superimposing it over a variety of scenes that led the viewer to believe she was trapped in a strange kind of nightmare. The crowning achievement was the interview with Jo Garvin. Max did a split screen comparing the footage that aired (Jo crying) with Jackie’s footage (Jo wink-ing in delight at the thought of her Emmy). The truth of the situation was unmistakable: viewers of Life and Death, at least in that one interview, had been hoodwinked. This was documentary filmmaking at its very best.
The episode aired two days after America watched Jared crawl on all fours to the bathroom. Thanks to Jackie’s letter-writing campaign, thanks to social media, and thanks to Hazel spreading the word through Azeroth, The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon had one thousand viewers in the first hour, twelve thousand by the following morning, and one hundred fifty thousand by nightfall that same day.
It had gone viral.
***
By sheer coincidence, Ethan Overbee was already in Portland when the second episode of The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon made its debut. While America was lamenting the steepening decline of Jared’s health, Ethan was thinking two steps ahead. He knew that the star and centerpiece of his show, the most viewed show in the history of television, was on a collision course with a hospital, and once Jared was out of the house, all bets would be off.
Ethan also knew that denying Jared medical care would be tantamount to murder, and while that would make for good television, it wouldn’t resonate with the sponsors. If he couldn’t let Jared go to the hospital, he would have to bring the hospital to Jared. It was during his research into Portland area medical facilities that Ethan had his moment of inspiration.
The only religion to which Ethan subscribed was the adoration and worship of power. The common misconception was that people like Ethan were in it—whatever their particular “it” might be—for the money. They weren’t. They wanted control. If you had control, money came naturally. The vast sea of the American middle class was certain it worked the other way. Get money, get power. It’s why they had “get rich quick” schemes and “dreams of avarice” for their most aspirational thoughts. They should have been called “get powerful quick” schemes, and “dreams of control.” Rubes, Ethan thought about Middle America, when he bothered to think about them at all.
Ethan presumed that Cardinal Trippe, who was playing host to Ethan in the parish’s modest office, would understand this perfectly. It didn’t matter what kind of organization a person was in, Ethan believed, you didn’t get to the top without some amount of clawing and scratching. Power was power no matter where you were. What Ethan didn’t understand was why this combative and entirely unlikable nun was in the room, too.
“Mr. Overbee,” Sister Benedict was saying, “your show is an affront to the very dignity of human life. It—”
“Please, Sister,” the Cardinal interjected. “I’m sure Mr. Overbee saw our press conference.”
“In fact, Your Eminence”—Monique had briefed Ethan on the proper thing to call a Catholic Cardinal—“it’s why I’m here today. I think we can help one another.”
“Your Grace,” the Sister began, continuing to push her agenda. But the Cardinal, with a gentle, paternal touch, patted the nun’s wrist, and she backed down. Yes, Ethan thought, power.
“Mr. Stone is, as you know,” Ethan said, “gravely ill. He’s coming to the point soon where he will need to be hospitalized.”
“And that would be bad for your television show,” the Cardinal added.