You’re scared. Some of the plans you’ve been making could earn you some hefty jail sentences, especially in the wake of the disruptive protests at the G20 summit. If they’re offering you a chance to come clean and walk away you should take it. Of course that’s not exactly how it plays out.
“I want to talk to a lawyer,” you say.
The lawyer advises you not to give any information that may incriminate you. But since you haven’t actually done anything yet, any information that you give would only enable the police to dismantle the group and little more. The charges that ensue lead to no convictions except for one whooping charge of criminal conspiracy for yourself. During your trial it becomes apparent that the police had no idea about anything you or your group had planned until you told them. All of the information you gave incriminating other members of the cell only served to verify your deep involvement. At your sentencing the media portrays you as a terrorist, while activists distance themselves and call you a turncoat traitor to the cause. Which, upon reflection, is true.
Although your sentence is not long, you find that nobody wants to associate with you upon your release. Mainstream activists and radicals alike view you as a liability. For a while you even find it difficult going to work and school. Even walking down the street you feel like everyone is staring at you. The cops certainly are.
As the spotlight slowly fades and you begin to slip from the collective memory, you decide to give a legal workshop for young activists. Where the best advice you can give is: What the cops know they already know, and anything else, they don’t know until you tell them. Loose lips sink ships.