Chapter 5: The Call I Almost Didn't Answer
I stepped into the hallway and listened to the voicemail.
A woman's voice.
Clipped and professional.
*"This message is for the parent of Letty.
My name is Diane Sorrell.
I'm a producer at WKCT News.
We received a tip this morning about an incident at Claremont Elementary involving a student who donated hair to a classmate with cancer.
We'd love to speak with you at your earliest convenience."*
I stood in the corridor outside the principal's office and read the number twice.
A tip.
Someone had called a news station before nine in the morning.
I went back inside.
"Mr.
Okafor.
Has anyone else contacted the school about this?
Media, specifically?"
He looked up.
"Not that I'm aware of.
Why?"
I showed him the voicemail notification without playing it.
He read the name.
His expression shifted in a way I couldn't quite read.
"I'd recommend you don't respond to that until you've had time to think," he said.
"These things can move quickly."
"Who would have called them?"
He didn't answer.
But his eyes moved — just briefly — toward the window that faced the parking lot.
The same window Millie said Mrs.
Hartwell had stood at that morning.
I called the number back from the hallway.
Diane Sorrell answered on the second ring.
"Thank you for calling back.
I want to be upfront with you — we received an anonymous tip suggesting that a student at Claremont was being disciplined for donating her hair to a sick classmate.
We'd like to hear your side before we run anything."
"Before you run anything," I repeated.
"We're planning a short segment for the evening news.
The angle, as it's been described to us, is that the school moved to punish a grieving child for an act of kindness."
My throat tightened.
"That framing came from the tip?"
"More or less."
"And if I don't comment?"
"We run what we have."
I looked back through the small window in the office door.
Letty was still sitting beside Millie.
They were talking quietly now, heads close together, the wig slightly crooked on Millie's head.
Letty reached over and straightened it without being asked.
"Give me an hour," I said.
I hung up and stood there for a moment.
Someone had called that station.
Someone who knew enough to frame it as a punishment story.
Someone who wanted this to become something ugly before the truth had a chance to breathe.
I thought about Mrs.
Hartwell's face when she walked out.
Not angry.
Controlled.
I thought about how quickly she had moved to the district office threat.
I went back into the office and sat down.
"Mr.
Okafor," I said.
"I need to ask you something directly, and I need you to answer me the same way."
He folded his hands on the desk.
"Did Mrs.
Hartwell suggest, at any point this morning, that this situation could become a public problem for the school if it wasn't handled quickly?"
May you like
The pause was two seconds too long.
"She expressed concern," he said, "about the school's reputation."
