Meanwhile, in a small office in the West Wing, a young intern notices a manila folder that has slid unnoticed behind a bookcase. He opens it and scans the content, his eyes widening as he reads.
It is a soul-sickening history of a twisted pair: Their early abuse at the hands of the farmer's sadistic son, who liked to creep up and throw breadcrumbs into their pen, adding tauntingly, "These will be in your butt one day ..." Early drug use leading to dealing to support their habit. The coke overdose of the pig in barn 3, which was never tied to them even though everybody knew. Random, senseless eye-peckings. A home invasion that went bad when the family returned unexpectedly -- 2 killed, many poops left on a nice area rug, the good silver taken. And then, the kidnapping of the congressman's daughter and the ransom exchange that turned ugly when the dye-pack in the sack of corn went off early. The young FBI agent who'll never come home to his family. His wife who wakes screaming from dreams of the sounds of gobbling outside the bedroom door.
The intern closes the file, stumbling toward the door, throwing in open and startling the Secret Service agent and the prostitute in the next room. "Wait!" the agent commands, swiping the pair of underpants from his face and fumbling for his service weapon, but the intern knows he can't wait. There is no time. A couple of decent passport forgeries and the two could be anywhere by now. Manila. Beirut. He came to the White House to serve his country, and today he will, even if it costs him his life. He has to tell POTUS the truth: He pardoned the wrong turkeys.