April 5, 2016

Day.  A plane takes off.  Our reporter looks manfully into the camera.  “Tax haven,” he says.  He walks down a sunlit beach towards a generic office building.  “Look,” he says, “why would a lawyer have an office in a tax haven?”

Night.  A plane is landing, silhouetted against a London skyline.  Our reporter is seen in profile, sitting in his car, looking manfully at a pile of documents in a folder on the seat beside him.  “Hundreds of thousands of documents,” he says.

Day.  Our reporter is walking alongside another white man, on a path through a field.  “But did you?” he says.  “Look,” the other man says, “I have already emailed you the answers to your questions and I’m not going to give an interview.  Now can you go away please?”  “Yes, but DID YOU???” asks the reporter.  “Go away,” the man says, going through a gate into a garden.  The reporter stands outside the gate and looks mournfully into the camera.  “Well, did he?” he asks.  “We may never know.”

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