Jada created multiple backups of each drive, checking and double-checking the file integrity. Outside, the sky grew steadily brighter. "Car just pulled into the faculty lot," Mrs. Price warned. "Blue sedan. Looks like administration."
"Almost done." Jada's fingers never stopped moving, labeling each backup with precise timestamps. "2 minutes." She was disconnecting the final drive when voices echoed in the hallway. Mrs. Price motioned her to freeze as footsteps approached, then passed by.
They waited another 30 seconds before Jada quickly shut down the computer, wiping any trace of their work. They slipped out the same way they'd entered, walking unhurriedly to the car like they belonged there. The morning sun was fully up now, casting long shadows across the campus. "Next stop, my office," Mrs. Price said as they drove away. "Need to catalog everything properly before the handoff.
They spent the next several hours in Mrs. Price's home office documenting every file, creating detailed indexes, and preparing certified copies. The work was tedious but crucial building an unbreakable chain of evidence. Remember what I taught you about presentation? Mrs. Price asked as they worked. Evidence is only as good as as your ability to authenticate it, Jada finished carefully labeling another folder.
Everything documented, witnessed, and timestamped. Around noon, they broke for a quick lunch. Sandwiches eaten over case files and legal pads. Mrs. Price's dining room table had become a command center covered in papers and laptops. Time to move these somewhere safer, Mrs. Price said gathering the most crucial files into her briefcase.
My old paralegal Marcus, he's got a secure storage system that would make the FBI jealous. They drove across town to a small law office tucked between a bakery and a bookstore. Marcus, gray-haired but sharp-eyed, met them at the door. Ruby, he greeted Mrs. Price warmly. Been a while since you brought me anything this interesting.
Inside his office, Marcus examined their documentation with professional scrutiny nodding approvingly at their thoroughness. He input security codes on a wall safe that looked new enough to belong in a bank. Nobody accesses these without both my authorization and a court order, he assured them securing the drives and documents. And I mean nobody. As they walked back to the car, Jada's phone buzzed.
A message from Truth Trek lit up the screen. Segment confirmed 7:00 p.m. Title: Hidden Hand in Beaumont Crossing. Sending final questions shortly. Mrs. Price read the message over Jada's shoulder and smiled. Perfect timing.
Now we've got backup copies safe. Let them try to bury the truth. The afternoon sun blazed through the courthouse windows as Jada sat rigid in the cramped hearing room. Her school uniform felt stiff and uncomfortable after hours of waiting. Beside her, Mama D clutched her worn leather purse, knuckles white with tension.
Caleb stood before the judge in his detention jumpsuit, looking smaller than his 13 years. His shoulders hunched forward as if trying to disappear. "Given the complexity of new evidence submitted to this court," Judge Martinez announced, adjusting her reading glasses, "I am postponing final judgment until Monday morning." "But, Your Honor," Mrs. Price rose from her seat, voice steady but urgent, "my client is a minor being held without proper cause. The initial charge itself is questionable at best."