Free Republic

My colleagues make fun of my old-fashioned devotion to my mailbox. It’s about 30 feet from my desk — among all the other third-floor employees’ mailboxes — and I check it constantly, always hoping a tipster will have sent me some revealing letter or secret document. In Metro, we get a lot of junk mail, and are regularly flooded with correspondence from prisoners in New York’s penitentiaries. But Friday, Sept. 23, was different. I walked to my mailbox and spotted a manila envelope, postmarked New York, NY, with a return address of The Trump Organization. My heart skipped a beat....