Top secret

In my line of sight from my office, beside stacks of books and magazines, between unplugged lamps and cigar boxes, I can see five different movers' boxes of that instantly recognizable shade of cardboard, smattered with the cheap brown tape ubiquitous to the act of relocation and nothing else. They bear Sharpie'd notes on the sides which grant little knowledge regarding what they contain: "Records" and "Office" and the like. We moved in a year and a half ago — and still, here they are. They are not to be confused with the hopeful white bankers boxes with clearer labels such as (Blu-Rays — Storage, and Books — Donate), which have been the transfer point for a reorganizational slog, likelier to be ended by another move than by crossing the goal line.

As a general matter, people who are indicted and punished for absconding with classified material tend to have done one of two things. First, they either spread that classified material by leaking to foreign governments, to the press or using it to write their memoirs. Or second, even if they don't engage in such behavior, they are a person who has a lot of enemies in the enforcement bodies in question. If you hand your enemies a baseball bat, you shouldn't be surprised when they smash you with it. The Donald Trump documents scenario looks very much like the second category, but it might also be the first.