"In the ninety degree heat, Solomon Vandy drops to his knees, rattling the wire with his...

Danny Archer: [reads off Maddy's computer] "In the ninety degree heat, Solomon Vandy drops to his knees, rattling the wire with his powerful hands." [laughs lightly] Maddy Bowen: What? [Turns around aggressively, smiling an angry smile that turns into a grimace] Maddy Bowen: Do you think I'm exploiting his grief? Danny Archer: [Scoffs knowingly again] Maddy Bowen: You're right. It's shit. It's like one of those infomercials with African kids with swollen bellies and flies in their eyes. See here I've got dead mothers, I've got severed limbs, but it's *nothing* new. Sure, it might make some people cry if they read it, maybe even write a check. But it's not going to be enough to make it stop! I'm sick of writing about victims but it's all I can fucking do! Because I need names, I need dates, I need pictures, I need bank accounts. Which is to say that I need someone to go *on* record. And if that's not you, and you're not really gonna help me, and we're not really gonna screw, then why don't you get the *fuck* out of my face, and let me do my work? Danny Archer: [scoffs, grimacing] You know Solomon thinks his son will be a doctor someday? Maybe his baby dies in that camp, maybe his daughter gets raped. Who knows, maybe both. Do you realize that that diamond is his only chance of getting his family out of here... Maddy Bowen: [angrily] - You don't give a rat's ass... Danny Archer: - Do you understand that? Maddy Bowen: - About his family.