“She didn’t just ignore it,” Reynolds whispered. “She wanted her to bleed. This elevates her crime to accessory to assault.”
Orders were given. Copies were sent to the FBI and the Department of Justice. Strategy shifted from evidence gathering to action.
At the city hall auditorium, tension was electric. Five hundred people had gathered. Bradford attempted to frame Sanders as the victim, Reynolds as a rogue officer. The crowd murmured agreement.
Sarah stepped forward. “My father taught me that lies are for cowards,” she said, voice trembling but firm. “I am not the problem. I was there. I saw the truth. And I will not be silenced.”
Reynolds signaled, and the doors swung open. Preston entered, bruised, ashamed, but defiant. He stepped to the witness stand. “He hit me,” he said. “Not because I was the aggressor, but because I got caught.”
The footage played: Preston striking Sarah, the slap, and Sanders’ approving smile. Shock rippled through the crowd. The illusion of a virtuous teacher collapsed instantly.