They Demanded My Seat For a $10 Hoodie. They Didn't Know About the Six Navy SEALs Who Stood Up—Or the Federal Secret I Was Carrying in My Backpack. The air in terminal B was thick with the smell of stale coffee and my own anxiety. I clutched the single strap of my backpack, the one I’d had since freshman year. Inside, next to a frayed notebook on trauma protocols, was a "prototype" my Uncle had insisted I carry. "Don't let it out of your sight, Kalin," he'd said, his voice crackling over a secur