Dear Clarice...
I have followed|with enthusiasm...
the course of your disgrace|and public shaming.
My own never bothered me...
except for the inconvenience|of being incarcerated.
But you may lack perspective.
In our discussions|down in the dungeon...
it was apparent to me|that your father...
the dead night watchman...
figures largely|in your value system.
I think your success|in putting an end...
to Jame Gumb's career|as a couturier...
pleased you most...
because you could imagine|your father being pleased.
But now, alas, you're in|bad odor with the FBI.
Do you imagine your daddy|being shamed by your
disgrace?
Do you see him|in his plain pine box...
crushed by your failure?
The sorry, petty end|of a promising career?
What is worst about|this humiliation, Clarice?
Is it how your failure...
will reflect|on your mommy and daddy?
Is your worst fear that people|will now and forever...
believe they were indeed...
just good old trailer camp,|tornado-bait, white trash?
And that perhaps you are, too?
By the way,|I couldn't help noticing...
on the FBI's|rather dull public website...
that I have been hoisted...
from the Bureau's archives|of the common criminal...
and elevated|to the more prestigious...
Ten Most Wanted List.
Is this coincidence,|or are you back on the case?
If so, goody goody.
I need to come out of retirement|and return to public
life.
Clearly this new assignment|is not your choice.
Rather, I suppose it is|part of the bargain...
but you accepted it, Clarice.
Your job is to craft my doom.
So I am not sure how well|I should wish you...
but I'm sure|we'll have a lot of fun.
Ta-ta. "H"