She glanced briefly toward Grant, then continued, her voice level. “Three weeks ago, on the football field, in front of nearly forty witnesses, Grant Sterling took something that belonged to my late father and threw it on the ground. I didn’t retaliate. I picked it up and walked away. Since then, there’s been a rumor campaign about my family. Questions raised about my financial aid. And this week, my friend Paige Ferris was physically threatened and injured by Wade Holloway in a breezeway near the library for the crime of being my friend.”
A murmur moved through the room. Preston Sterling’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing yet. “I have no proof that Grant personally placed those pages in my bag,” Joe continued. “But I have a security clip showing that someone who does not belong to either the volleyball or cheer roster entered that locker room during the exact window it happened. I’d like that entered into consideration.”
Dean Ingram glanced toward Nora, who rose and connected her laptop to the room’s small projector with hands that were not quite steady, though her voice was clear when she spoke. “I obtained this footage through a friend who works in the security office before it was scheduled for routine deletion,” she said. “I want to be transparent about that process because I know it wasn’t standard procedure, but I believed and still believe that it was relevant evidence at risk of being lost.”
The footage played on the small screen at the front of the room, grainy but unmistakable in its basic outline. A figure entering, staying briefly, leaving. The judge on the board leaned forward, studying it closely. “Can anyone identify this individual with certainty?” she asked.
The room was quiet for a long moment. It was Wade Holloway of all people who broke it and not in the way anyone expected. He had been sitting rigid in his chair since the video started playing. His earlier confidence draining slowly from his face as the footage looped a second time. Something in him, watching Cole’s familiar walk on that grainy screen, cracked under the weight of a decision he had clearly not made peace with carrying alone.
“That’s Cole,” he said abruptly before he had fully decided to say it out loud. “That’s him. I was there when he did it. Grant told him to.” The room erupted into quiet urgent noise. Dean Ingram calling for order. Preston Sterling half rising from his chair before catching himself. Grant’s face going pale beside his father.
“Wade,” Grant hissed, low and furious. “I’m not going down for this,” Wade said, his voice rising now. Something finally breaking after weeks of pressure. “I threatened that girl in the breezeway because you told me to. I’m not sitting here while everyone acts like I planned any of this. It was your idea, Grant. All of it. From the field.”