Victoria put you up to this, didn't she? Silence on the line. Then I have to follow the rules, Miss Turner. This is because she's black and poor and she beat your favorite.
Don't lie to me. The deadline is 2 p.m., Miss Turner. Documentation is required. He hung up.
Diane stared at her phone. It was 9:47 a.m. She had 4 hours and 13 minutes to obtain legal documentation that didn't exist, couldn't exist for a child's practice videos posted before she even understood what copyright meant. She called free legal aid, voicemail, three-week wait for appointments.
She searched Google frantically. Child posted covers online legal help. The results were contradictory, confusing, useless. She posted in three Facebook mom groups.
Urgent. My 10-year-old being disqualified from talent competition over covers. She posted as a seven-year-old practicing. Is this legal?
Please help. responses trickled in. They're technically right, but morally wrong. You need a lawyer. This happens.
Competitions protect their favorites. That's so wrong. Where's the competition? I'll come protest.
But nobody had solutions. Nobody had documentation. Nobody could help. Victoria sat in her pristine living room texting Madison.
Crisis averted. Honey, you'll be competing for first place tonight unopposed. Start getting ready. Madison stared at her phone, something uncomfortable squirming in her chest.
Mom, what did you do? I simply enforced the rules, sweetheart. Some people think they can bypass years of proper training and investment with one emotional performance. Not on my watch.
She's 10, Mom. And she was incredible. She's 10 and her mother let her break the law online for 3 years. Consequences, darling.
Welcome to the real world. Madison didn't respond. She'd watched Tiana's video 17 times, had cried during 12 of them. She knew what real talent looked like.
This wasn't fair. But her mother's word was law. 11:30 a.m. Three and a half hours until the deadline.
Mr. Harrison, the judge and music teacher, heard about the complaint from another teacher. He immediately called Christopher Hayes. Chris, did you hear about the Turner girl? They're trying to disqualify her over childhood practice videos.
It's Victoria. She's protecting Madison. Christopher was already in his car, already driving. What's the deadline?
2 p.m. She needs documentation she can't possibly have. What's the office address, Chris? What are you?
Send me the address now. 12 minutes later, Christopher pulled into the community center parking lot, tires screeching. He'd been up all night. His eyes were red.