After all, their employer, Hawk One Security, folded yesterday afternoon. The business provided about 300 guards to D.C. schools.

Education insider and activist Robert Brannum , who last night posted to a Listserv warning DC residents the security guards would be absent today, says via e-mail that he got a call last night, telling him the company was imploding. "Hawk One employees were advised not to report to work because there was not a contract." he writes.

The Washington Post says the company's going belly-up is no surprise:

"Hawk One had recently lost a lucrative contract to provide security at District government buildings. It also owes the Internal Revenue Service $4 million in taxes and penalties, records show. The company was also having trouble paying its employees. Hawk One officials said earlier this week that untimely payment from the city was the reason for the payment troubles."

Preventing any Lord-of-the-Flies scenarios, the D.C. police department has moved in to take up the slack as far as DCPS security is concerned. It has also, according to a recent release from the mayor's office, already hired two brand new contractors to protect D.C. schools.

Barry never got into detail with council staff. But it was enough for Brighthaupt to get barred that night from a Wilson Building event. At 10:30 that night, Barry left a voicemail on his ex-girlfriend's cellphone apologizing for his actions. He goes on to state that Delonta Brighthaupt was now free to go anywhere he wants.

This wasn't the end to this love-hate triangle between Barry, Donna Watts-Brighthaupt and Delonta Brighthaupt which we detail in this week's cover. On July 1, Barry wrote a letter to Donna apologizing further. Barry's staff provided the letter to Washington City Paper this week.

In the letter, Barry writes: "In an effort to resolve this situation in an amicable manner, I sincerely apologize to you, Brew and to Mr. Brighthaupt."

Full letter after the jump.

Dear Donna,

There has been a lot of controversy and confusion related to the situation surrounding the screening last night.  I urged you several times on Tuesday not to bring your ex-husband to the screening at the Wilson Building that night because his presence made me feel threatened.  You arrived at the Wilson Building with your daughter and Mr. Brighthaupt was denied entry, I can see how this was embarrassing to each of you.

Continuing to go back and forth on this issue is not in the best interest of you, Mr. Brighthaupt and me.  In an effort to resolve this situation in an amicable manner, I sincerely apologize to you, Brew and to Mr. Brighthaupt.  Furthermore I am not going to pursue any further actions related to Mr. Brighthaupt.

In order to put this to rest and resolve it amicably, I am asking for you to agree with me that going forward we will not defame or seek to injure each other’s reputation in any form or manner.  I ask that you respond to me by letter indicating that you agree to these terms.  Following your written response we will also agree that there will be no interaction, conversations or contact between us going forward.

I look forward to your swift response, please call me regarding this letter.

Sincerely,

Marion Barry

Now a congressman is pushing for an audit of security, on the following basis: "In the interest of ensuring the integrity of Secret Service protective operations, and the security of our nation's leaders, I request that you audit the Secret Service protective security plans for the Inauguration, investigate and identify any deficiencies in security operations," wrote Rep. Bennie G. Thompson (D-Miss.) in a letter to some big shot at the Department of Homeland Security.

How 'bout this deficiency, Mr. Congressman?

The story, and it's a good one, is that big-time Obama campaign donors–tech CEOs among them–were appalled at how little they were patted down before mingling with other high fliers on Inauguration Day. Here's what one industrialist said: "I didn't think about it at the time, but we went through security and then we were in an open space, freely accessible to the public."

The point here: You know life is good when you complain that the feds aren't hassling you enough.

But if you're hungry there's a big problem. The line to get to the refreshment tent: Mammoth. Kaitlyn Boyle, 20, a student at Catholic, got to the grounds at 9 this morning and got through security in 15 minutes. But it took her two hours to get hot dogs. Those hot dogs, which are sold with chips, cost $6 apiece. Her total tab, with a $2 cookie, was $14. She's p.o.'d because all she really wanted was hot chocolate and they ran out by the time she made it through the line.

Banville went to back of line to find someone whose hopes she could deflate. She found Craig Massari, 39, a steelworker from Buffalo, N.Y. He'd left Buffalo at 2:30 this morning; the bus dropped his group off here. They have to get to Baltimore, where they're staying, tonight. The bus trip and hotel is costing him $900 for the weekend, but it's worth it because he wants to be part of history. Unfortunately, he also wanted some hot chocolate. Banville broke the news to him.

"Well, then I'm going to storm the place," he said. And then he continued to wait in line.

Banville also reports that the Jumbotron she's standing by, between the Korean War monument and the Reflecting Pool,  just went dark. Says there is a "Huge, huge, huge amount of porta potties." If you've gotta pee, you're taken care of, she says. If you didn't bring snacks, you're fucked.

One of the resounding themes of Inauguration Day will be broken dreams and dashed hopes. People are going to be flooding the federal core, ready to celebrate an inspirational new president, only to be bummed out by the intense security surrounding the event. Hunger could be a problem as well.

If you are one of those 2 million-plus ordinary citizens alighting on the scene, you'll need to plan at least two meals ahead. That's because the chances that you're going to, like, get a spot for the parade or hang on the Mall, then go back to your apartment or hotel room for lunch, and then later re-assume your place in history are nil. Just not going to happen.

So you gotta pack lunch and water and snacks.

Yet according to the Washington Post Web site, you can't carry any large bags or backpacks, at least for the parade route.

Here's what is acceptable: "Bags smaller than 8 inches by 6 inches by 4 inches..."

Great work, officialdom. All my friends, all my acquaintances and relatives and colleagues—they all know automatically what kind of bag is 8-by-6-by-4. In fact, I have a good friend who, when he needs a bag, doesn't ask for a grocery bag or a "baggie" or a paper bag, but rather uses dimensions to state the request. Hey Erik, he'll say, you got a ten-by-19-by-3-inch bag kicking around in your kitchen?

Look at the top of this item. The Giant bag is 13-by-16 inches; the Washington Post delivery bag is 21-by-7.5 inches. Which means that the most common bags around are going to be useless to all you parade seekers.

We here at City Desk will keep following this bag story. We want to know who came up with these bag dimensions and why. Also dying to find out on what sort of bag the rule is modeled. Could it be some kind of Ziploc bag that's on every grocer's shelf? And what's with the whole 3-d standard? Sure, bags commonly expand and become three dimensional, but not uniformly so. And whatever you do, don't you dare try to get in with a bag that's exactly 8-by-6-by-4. Read the regulation carefully: It has to be smaller than those dimensions.

This is the story of the inauguration.

Photograph by Darrow Montgomery