Chapter 70 Chapter 70
SEVENTY~
I spent the early morning hours going through everything Dr. Porter had sent me during our interviews. Emails, notes, documents. Looking for any hint about the sixth child he'd mentioned.
Most of it was material I'd already seen. Interview transcripts. Family trees. Historical records.
But then I found something. An email Porter had sent me three weeks ago that I'd never opened. The subject line was "Urgent - Do Not Share."
I opened it now.
Anita,
I've made a breakthrough in identifying James's sixth child. I can't discuss it over email or phone. Too dangerous. If anything happens to me, look for the safe deposit box at First National Bank in Philadelphia. Box 7743. The key is with my attorney, Gerald Chen.
If you're reading this and I'm dead, be careful. Someone is watching. Someone who doesn't want this child found.
—Michael
The email was timestamped at 11:47 PM on the day before Porter died.
He'd known he was in danger.
I called Agent Martinez back. "Porter left information in a safe deposit box. We need to get it."
"I'll contact his attorney," Agent Martinez said. "We can get access with a warrant."
"That could take days," I said. "We might not have days."
"Are you suggesting we break into a safe deposit box?" Agent Martinez asked.
"I'm suggesting we move fast," I said.
Agent Martinez contacted Gerald Chen, Porter's attorney. Chen was cooperative but cautious.
"Dr. Porter did leave instructions about the safe deposit box," Chen said. "He said if anything happened to him, I should give the key to Anita Harris and no one else."
"Why me?" I asked.
"He said you were the only one he trusted to do the right thing with the information," Chen said.
Chen met us at the bank later that morning. Agent Martinez obtained emergency access through FBI channels. We opened box 7743.
Inside were documents. Lots of them. Birth certificates. Medical records. Adoption papers. And a DNA test result.
"Porter found them," I said, reading through the material.
The sixth child was born in 1985 to a woman named Jennifer Hartley. She'd been one of James's secretaries in the early 1980s. The baby had been placed for adoption immediately after birth.
"The adoptive parents were Robert and Susan Mitchell," I read. "They named the child Andrew Mitchell."
"Do we know where Andrew Mitchell is now?" Agent Martinez asked.
I kept reading. Porter had tracked Andrew's life. College at Northwestern. Law degree from Georgetown. Currently working as a federal prosecutor in Washington D.C.
"A prosecutor," I said. "James's son became a federal prosecutor."
"The irony is almost poetic," Agent Martinez said.
There was more. Porter had obtained Andrew's DNA from a coffee cup and confirmed he was James's biological child. The match was definitive.
"Has Andrew been contacted?" I asked.
According to Porter's notes, no. Porter had been planning to approach Andrew after confirming the DNA results. But he'd been killed before he could.
"So Andrew Mitchell has no idea he's James Harris's son," I said.
"And someone killed Porter to keep it that way," Agent Martinez said. "The question is who and why."
We reviewed Porter's research more carefully. He'd noted that Andrew Mitchell was prosecuting a major corruption case. One involving government contractors and defense department officials.
"What if this isn't about hiding Andrew's identity?" I suggested. "What if it's about stopping his prosecution?"
"You think someone killed Porter to get leverage over Andrew?" Agent Martinez asked.
"Think about it," I said. "Andrew's prosecuting powerful people. If they could prove he's the son of a notorious criminal, they could discredit him. Get his cases dismissed."
"Or they could blackmail him into dropping the prosecution," Agent Martinez added.
We needed to warn Andrew Mitchell immediately.
Agent Martinez called the U.S. Attorney's office in Washington D.C. Asked to speak with Andrew Mitchell urgently.
"He's in court," his assistant said. "Can I take a message?"
"Tell him Agent Sylvia Martinez from the FBI needs to speak with him about a personal security matter," Agent Martinez said. "It's urgent."
We waited three hours. Finally, Andrew Mitchell called back.
"This is Andrew Mitchell. You said something about a security matter?"
"Mr. Mitchell, my name is Agent Sylvia Martinez. I'm calling about a sensitive issue regarding your biological background."
There was a long pause. "I'm adopted. I know that already."
"We have information about your biological father," Agent Martinez said carefully. "Information that certain people may try to use against you."
"Who was my biological father?" Andrew asked.
Agent Martinez looked at me. I nodded.
"James Harris," she said.
Another long pause. "The James Harris? The criminal who was all over the news?"
"Yes," Agent Martinez confirmed.
"That's impossible," Andrew said. "There must be a mistake."
"We have DNA confirmation," Agent Martinez said. "And we believe someone may try to use this information to discredit your current prosecution."
"I need to see this evidence," Andrew said. "In person."
We arranged to meet Andrew in Washington D.C. the next day. I insisted on coming along despite Declan's objections.
"You promised," Declan said. "No more investigating."
"This is different," I said. "This is family. James's son doesn't even know he's about to be blindsided."
"It's always different," Declan said. "Always an exception. Always a reason."
"What would you have me do?" I asked. "Ignore it? Let Andrew Mitchell get destroyed because I promised to stay out of investigations?"
"I'd have you think about our family," Declan said. "About the promises you made to me. To the twins. To yourself."
"I am thinking about our family," I said. "Andrew Mitchell is family. He just doesn't know it yet."
Declan shook his head. "You're going to go no matter what I say, aren't you?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Then I'm coming with you," Declan said. "Someone needs to keep you from going too deep."
We flew to Washington D.C. Met Andrew Mitchell at a secured FBI facility.
Andrew was thirty-nine, tall, with dark hair and sharp features. Looking at him, I could see traces of James. The same intelligent eyes. The same determined jaw.
But there was something else too. A warmth that James had never possessed. A sense of integrity.
"Show me the evidence," Andrew said immediately.
Agent Martinez presented the DNA results. The birth certificate. The adoption papers.
Andrew read through everything carefully. His expression never changed, but I could see his hands shaking slightly.
"My parents never told me my biological father's name," Andrew said finally. "They said it was better not to know. I always thought it was because he was nobody special. Not because he was... this."
"We're sorry you're finding out this way," I said.
"Who are you?" Andrew asked, looking at me for the first time.
"I'm Anita Harris," I said. "James Harris's daughter-in-law. And this is my husband Declan, James's son."
Andrew stared at Declan. "You're my half-brother."
"Apparently," Declan said.
"How many of us are there?" Andrew asked.
"Six, counting you," I said. "Declan and his brother Liam were raised by James. Emma, Lily, and Marcus were from affairs James had. And now you."
"A family of criminals," Andrew said bitterly.
"A family of people who rejected criminality," I corrected. "None of James's children followed in his footsteps. You're all prosecutors, judges, advocates. You all chose justice."
"Did I choose it?" Andrew asked. "Or is it in my genes? Some twisted response to being the son of a criminal?"
"Does it matter?" Declan asked. "You are who you are. Your father's identity doesn't change that."
"It changes everything," Andrew said. "My credibility. My cases. My entire career is built on integrity. What happens when people learn I'm the son of a man who spent decades corrupting the justice system?"
"Nothing happens," I said. "Unless you let it matter. You can't control your biology. You can only control your choices."
"That's easy for you to say," Andrew said. "You married into this family. You chose it. I didn't choose to be James Harris's son."
"None of us chose it," Declan said quietly. "But we're all dealing with it. You can deal with it alone, or you can let us help."
Andrew was quiet for a long moment. "Why was Dr. Porter killed? Who benefits from this information being hidden?"
"We're not sure," Agent Martinez said. "But we think it might be connected to your current prosecution. Tell us about the case."
Andrew hesitated. "It's classified. High-level corruption involving defense contracts."
"Who are the defendants?" I asked.
"I can't tell you that," Andrew said.
"Even if they're trying to kill you?" Agent Martinez pressed.
"I don't know that they are," Andrew said. "This could all be coincidental."
"Dr. Porter is dead," I said bluntly. "That's not a coincidence."
Andrew made a decision. "The lead defendant is Senator Richard Calloway. We're prosecuting him for accepting bribes from defense contractors in exchange for steering contracts to specific companies."
"Calloway," I said, recognizing the name. "He was on James Harris's blackmail list."
"What?" Andrew asked.
"James kept records of everyone he had leverage over," I explained. "Senator Calloway was on that list. James had evidence of Calloway's corruption years ago."
"Which means Calloway knows about James's network," Agent Martinez said. "He might know about James's children."
"And he'd definitely use that information to discredit the prosecutor trying to convict him," I added.
Everything clicked into place. Calloway had learned about Andrew's connection to James Harris. Possibly from Porter's research. He'd had Porter killed to prevent the information from being verified, but not before obtaining copies of the research.
"Calloway's going to leak this," Andrew said. "He's going to tell the media I'm James Harris's son and claim my prosecution is compromised."
"Can he prove it?" Declan asked.
"He doesn't need to prove it," Andrew said. "He just needs to create doubt. Get the case reassigned to a different prosecutor. Buy time."
"Then we beat him to it," I said. "We go public first. Control the narrative."
"Are you insane?" Andrew asked. "If I admit I'm James Harris's son, my career is over."
"Or it's just beginning," I said. "Think about it. The son of a notorious criminal becomes a prosecutor. Dedicates his life to fighting the kind of corruption his father embodied. That's not a scandal. That's a redemption story."
"The media will destroy me," Andrew said.
"The media will be fascinated by you," I corrected. "And if you're open and honest about it, they can't use it against you. You take away Calloway's weapon."
"She's right," Agent Martinez said. "Coming forward voluntarily gives you control. Letting Calloway leak it makes you look like you were hiding something."
Andrew paced the room, thinking. "This is my life. My career. My reputation."
"It's also your choice," Declan said. "None of us can make it for you."
Andrew stopped pacing. Looked at each of us. "If I do this, if I go public, will you stand with me? Will you vouch for me?"
"Yes," I said immediately.
"Absolutely," Declan agreed.
"All of us will," I said. "The whole family. We'll show the media that James's children are united in rejecting his legacy."
Andrew took a deep breath. "Then let's do it. Let's tell my story before Calloway can weaponize it."
We scheduled a press conference for the next day. Andrew would announce his biological connection to James Harris and explain how learning about it had only strengthened his commitment to fighting corruption.
That night, I called Emma, Lily, Marcus, Liam, and the twins. Explained the situation. Asked if they'd appear at the press conference in support of Andrew.
"Of course," Emma said. "He's family."
"We stand together," Liam agreed.
Everyone agreed to come. Even Sarah, who rarely got involved in family drama, said she'd be there.
"This is what family does," she said. "We show up for each other."
The press conference was held at the Department of Justice. Andrew stood at a podium, flanked by his siblings. All six of James Harris's children together for the first time.
"My name is Andrew Mitchell," he began. "And I recently learned that my biological father was James Harris, the criminal who was convicted of numerous crimes over a decade ago. I was adopted at birth and raised by wonderful parents who gave me every opportunity to become who I am today."
He paused. "I will not let my biological father's crimes define me. I am a prosecutor because I believe in justice. Because I believe in accountability. Because I believe that people should be judged by their choices, not their genetics."
The press conference went viral. News outlets around the world covered it. The headline was consistent: "Harris's Son Fights His Father's Legacy."
Public reaction was overwhelmingly positive. People were fascinated by the story. Inspired by Andrew's commitment to justice despite his heritage.
"You did it," I told Andrew afterward. "You controlled the narrative."
"We did it," Andrew corrected. "I couldn't have done this without all of you."
Senator Calloway's defense team tried to use Andrew's connection to James Harris to get the case dismissed. They argued Andrew was biased. That his prosecution was personal.
The judge rejected the argument.
"Mr. Mitchell's biological heritage has no bearing on his professional conduct," the judge ruled. "The prosecution will continue."
Calloway was convicted two months later. Sentenced to fifteen years in prison.
"Justice," Andrew said after the verdict. "That's what matters."
Andrew joined our family fully after that. Came to dinners. Spent time with his siblings. Built relationships with people who understood what it meant to carry James Harris's blood.
"I thought I'd spend my life alone with this secret," Andrew told me. "Instead, I found a family."
"You always had a family," I said. "You just didn't know it yet."
Things settled down after that. The media moved on to other stories. We returned to our normal lives.
I thought maybe, finally, we could have lasting peace.
But three weeks after Calloway's conviction, Andrew received a threatening letter.
You may have won this battle, but the war isn't over. James Harris had powerful friends. Friends who are still around. Friends who don't appreciate his children interfering with business.
Back off, or all six of you will pay the price.
The letter was unsigned, untraceable.
"It's probably just an empty threat," Agent Martinez said when we reported it. "Calloway's supporters trying to intimidate you."
"Or it's something more," I said.
Because I'd learned over the years that threats were rarely empty.
Someone was watching us. Someone connected to James's old network.
And they were planning something.
The question was what.
And whether we'd see it coming before it was too late.