It is hard to fathom.
A reporter is thrust into the limelight for a Pulitzer prize at twenty years of age.
She breaks major news stories. She leaps over tall buildings.
Everybody wants her: Huffington Post, Buzzfeed, Politico, the New York Times.
The truth is always stranger than fiction.
Reporter Ali Watkins received leaks from the head of security for the Senate Select Intelligence Committee – a man who apparently has worse leaks than the average man with benign prostatic hypertrophy.
Nubile flesh meets needy middle-aged man. A marriage made in hell. But a marriage made in heaven for the media outlets who knew what was going on and still gave the reporter a berth.
James Wolfe was accountable for receiving, managing, and properly maintaining all classified information provided to the Senate Select Intelligence Committee by the Executive Branch.
Ali Watkins, was accountable to her profession regarding personal behavior.
And yet today, the New York Times and other outlets scream about press freedom and source confidentiality. It would seem that source confidentiality becomes quite the joke when it is found that the source was a long-term lover who thought pillow talk could move beyond personal vignettes into the realm of security clearance issues.
Whoever knew that journalism was such a sweet deal?