I had finished my coffee and morning newspapers and was preparing to give up on Big Freddy when he finally joined me.
“What’s with you?” I asked. “This is the second week in a row that you’ve turned up late,” I said.
“Glued to my TV,” Freddy said.
“The massive man hunt,” I said.
“Massive kid hunt - they took down his older brother,” Freddy said.
“I know that,” I said. “Remarkable the way they pin-pointed the two of them by picking them out of what? Hundreds in the crowd at the finish line?
“Everything about this is remarkable,” Freddy said. “Everybody they can get to mikes from Obama on down are having their say.
“They even find the bombers’ uncle -- or maybe he finds them because he says he wants the world to know that between him and his brother’s family, things haven’t been what you might call cozy for some time.
“I don’t blame him. The bombers are his brother’s sons, and he wants the world to know whatever love they may have had between them once is long gone.
“This really has been an extraordinary news maker,” I said. “ Television, the new media? The FBI, Boston cops to a man, armed to the teeth and on the move from here to wherever?
“You name it, they’re there.”
“Made for TV,” Freddy said.
“You’re cynical,” I said.
“No, I’m saying the bombers made it happen,” Freddy said.
“Somebody might have dreamed up a movie based on blowing up the Boston Marathon, but I doubt it because nobody would have backed it.
“But these two didn’t need much money. There was no cast to hire. No permits needed. A couple of pressure cookers, and what they fill them with didn’t cost all that much. No dialog. They just do their thing and walk off the set.”