At a press conference on April 18, Sarah resisted the temptation to call for immediate destruction of the company. She displayed the relevant documents and explained exactly what they supported and what was still under investigation. "This case began with an adult striking a child," she said, "but the evidence raises broader questions about how the airline valued some passengers' complaints over others and how those choices affected reporting." She called for independent review, preservation of records, remedies for affected passengers, and an end to procedures that made loyalty status a substitute for credibility. The reporters asked sharp questions about whether the policy was legal and how long it had operated. Sarah answered what she knew and declined to invent what she did not.
National Airways released a response that afternoon. It denied endorsing discrimination, said the training language had been misunderstood, and announced an internal review. The statement promised respect and dignity to every traveler, phrases the company had used in advertisements for years. Sarah read the statement aloud to Taylor without editorializing. "Does that mean they'll change it?" Taylor asked. "It means they've said they will examine it," Sarah replied. "We will have to see what they actually do." Taylor nodded. She was learning to distinguish a promise from a result.
Three days later federal aviation regulators announced a review of the airline's incident handling and reporting practices, while civil-rights officials considered the allegations within their respective authority. Investigators requested training materials, communications, and examples of relevant passenger complaints. Public attention brought other claims to light, some well documented and others unverified. Sarah reminded everyone on her team that the existence of additional allegations did not make each allegation automatically true. The company deserved a fair opportunity to respond, and passengers deserved investigations that took their reports seriously. Those two principles were not opposites.
At home, Taylor watched a short news segment about the federal inquiry, then switched the television off. Evelyn looked at her questioningly. "I'm glad they're looking," Taylor said. "I just wish I could stop looking." Evelyn sat beside her with a needle and thread, repairing the cuff of Taylor's blue sweater. "Then stop for tonight," she said. "The grown-ups can carry their share." For the first time, Taylor believed it might be possible to let them.
On the evening before the May hearing, Sarah invited Taylor and James to a private conference room near the courthouse. She laid out the process in ordinary language: what the judge would decide, which witnesses might be called, why preliminary relief was different from a final verdict, and what the opposing attorneys might ask. Taylor listened with a notebook open before her, the same way she prepared for debate tournaments. Halfway through, she raised her hand out of habit. "Do I have to explain why I didn't hit her back?" she asked. Sarah paused. "You may be asked about your response," she said, "but there is no legal or moral duty for a child to fight an adult who hits her. You are not on trial for remaining calm."