HARRISBURG, Pa. – Over the past two and a half years or so, the Pennsylvania government has been mired in a porn-related scandal that has more twists and turns than the last seven minutes of an M. Night Shyamalan movie about a village full of possibly demon-possessed kids with the ability to see dead people who start mysteriously killing themselves, right after a terrible passenger train derails on the outskirts of town, killing everybody on board except Bruce Willis and Marky Mark.

I might have a few of the details wrong here, because a) I don’t read very well when I’m really, really high on muscle relaxers, b) I always fall asleep during M. Night Shyamalan movies and b) who gives a shit about “accuracy” anymore, realistically?

With those caveats in mind, here’s the gist of the story:

Back in January 2013, Kathleen Kane, a woman with an alliterative name that would be right at home on a marquee for a porn movie (if porn movie names ever got placed on marquees anymore, which they don’t), took office as the new attorney general of Pennsylvania.

Kane had been carried into office in part on the campaign promise to investigate why it took so damn long to indict some sick fuck of an assistant college football coach after it came to light he’d been doing more than “horsing around” with minors in the showers down yonder at Penn State University.

Within a month of taking office, Kane appointed a former federal prosecutor to handle the investigation, beginning a period of about a year in which everybody sorta forgot about the whole sordid thing. Then, in February 2014, Kane announced the investigation had stalled because some “key documents” had gone missing.

To a prosecutor, missing documents are like a red cape waved at an angry bull: They immediately rush forward in the direction of the documents, only to be stabbed in the chest by some Spanish guy wearing a really stupid-looking hat.

With such fierce dedication, it was no wonder Kane’s office later turned up copies of the missing documents, which included internal emails sent around by the officials being investigated. This didn’t mean Kane could now release the investigator’s final report, though, because first some judge needed to review the materials to make sure there was nothing in there about the hookers who (allegedly) come over to his house every Saturday to (allegedly) flog him with bundles of Slim Jims while he (allegedly) pranced around in a wedding dress (allegedly) singing the 1964 Dixie Cups classic “Going to the Chapel of Love.”

Meanwhile, the guy who used to have Kane’s job was getting pretty pissed off about her constantly implying there was something wrong with his prosecution of the sicko football coach asshole, especially seeing as how the football coach wound up being demoted to Assistant Resident Bitch at Greene State Prison, where he’s now on a contract that will last somewhere in the 30-60 year range.

Anyway, the pissed-off former prosecutor went to the (allegedly) singing-wedding-dress judge and asked for an order barring Kane from publicly releasing any of the emails that came to light during the review of the investigation of Coach Bad-Touch, setting in motion the epic prosecutorial pissing match that followed.

In March 2014, a Philadelphia newspaper ran a story claiming Kane had stymied another investigation into governmental corruption by killing a sting operation that was looking into state and city officials taking bribes.

Feeling the article made her seem like something less than the anti-corruption crusader she had presented herself to be on the campaign trail, Kane went positively apeshit and started accusing everyone from the former prosecutors running the sting operation to former judges to the bass player from Rusted Root of conspiring to sabotage her career.

Fighting fire with fire, Kane then allegedly directed her staff to leak to a different Philadelphia newspaper information from a 2009 grand jury investigation she believed made two of her rival former prosecutors look bad. As prosecutors aren’t really supposed to leak information collected by grand juries, Kane’s move spawned yet another investigation, this one into the grand jury leak.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, the report about the investigation into Coach Bad-Touch finally got released. While it reported “inexplicable delays” in the investigation, the report stopped short of supporting Kane’s claim the former prosecutor had gone slowly with the probe to aid his 2010 run for governor.

And this is where things started to get really good.

Last summer, the Pennsylvania press began to catch wind that the emails uncovered in Kane’s investigation included something a lot juicier than boring old political corruption: Porn. Pretty soon, “freedom of information” and “right to know” requests were flying around in Philly courts like pigeons frantically looking for a new place to shit on the Liberty Bell.

Kane’s office declined to respond to the requests, leading the media outlets to appeal. Rather than going through the usual appeals process, though, the appeals landed on the desk of the judge who (allegedly) enjoys being beaten with meat sticks.

In late August 2014, a judge who nobody has accused (yet) of having a processed meat fetish issued an order against witness intimidation and retaliation in the grand jury leak case, while Kane and one of the former prosecutors continued to spar on the subject of whether information about the pornographic emails could be released.

Kane eventually prevailed in the argument, leading to a lifting of the stay against releasing the emails, but the judge left it up to Kane whether the emails fit into the “right to know” exception, saying he lacked jurisdiction—and, quite frankly, he was sick of the whole fucking thing and just wanted to get back to (allegedly) prancing around in wedding wear.

To the total confusion of just about everybody not named “Kathleen Kane,” Kane then reversed course and decided not to release the emails to the media, saying the emails were part of an “ongoing investigation,” even though she’d just finished arguing in court the emails should be released to the media.

Two days later, Kane made another about-face, allowing the media to review some of the sexually explicit emails. And—wouldn’t you know it?—the emails she allowed the media to review included those sent, forwarded and responded to by some of the same political opponents (and/or people who worked for them) with whom she’d just spent the last year and half squabbling.

What a crazy coincidence, right?

Repercussions were swift: Within weeks, a sitting Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice (one named “Seamus,” somehow) resigned after it was revealed he was among the men who had done things men commonly do when they don’t expect prosecutors and former prosecutors to be reading over their shoulder, like trade porn links—and other things men only do when they figure nobody is reading over their shoulder, like forward around racist and sexist jokes.

Kane went on to wield the porn emails—both those selectively revealed and those she continued to hold back—as a political bludgeon, leading then-Governor Tom Corbett to fire several members of his staff, while two more staffers voluntarily resigned. Kane also disciplined 23 other members of the AG’s office, declining to identify them because she said union contracts prohibited the disclosure.

The latest turn in the saga, however, doesn’t appear to be cutting in Kane’s favor: Last week, Kane was indicted in connection with the grand jury leaks on charges including perjury, obstruction and conspiracy, among other crimes.

Kane, who continues to selectively block release of the emails, took to the podium recently to declare her innocence and point her finger in an unsurprising direction: at her political opponents.

“I am innocent of any wrongdoing,” Kane said. “I neither conspired with anyone nor did I ask or direct anyone to do anything or unlawful.”

Kane maintained “only a portion of the story has been told,” adding it’s a story that “begins with pornography, racial insensitivity and religious bigotry.”

In a word: Sweet!

As a student of literature, an avid film buff and shameless rubbernecker at every manner of vehicular mishap I happen to drive by, I can tell you every great story begins with pornography, racial insensitivity and religious bigotry—or, failing that, a good car chase.

Of course, Kane’s critics are quick to point out her version of the “whole story” might not be entirely reliable, either, so expect more twists and turns in the months ahead, as the saga of the Great Pennsylvania Porn Probe shifts into overdrive. Detractors also point out Kane referenced lines from a film called Boondog Millionaire, which presumably is either a porn parody of, or sequel to, the well-known Danny Boyle film “Reservoir Slumdogs.”

Who knows? If we’re really lucky, when the real whole story finally is told, maybe it will include an informative voiceover by Morgan Freeman.