I'm truly sorry. I should never have You should never have listened to a racist, Christopher said flatly. He turned to Victoria. If you attempt any further interference with this contestant, I will end you professionally, personally, legally. Are we clear?
Victoria said nothing. Just grabbed her purse and fled. Christopher watched her go, then turned to Diane and Tiana. Up close, the resemblance was undeniable. Tiana had his eyes, his chin, his exact bone structure.
Diane looked older, harder, worn down by years of struggle, but still beautiful, still fierce. Diane stared at him. Really stared. Her eyes narrowed. Christopher.
He froze. Mama. Tiana looked between them, confused. You know him. Diane's face cycled through shock, recognition, rage.
Get out, Diane. I get out. Her voice shook. You don't get to do this. Not now.
Not after. She couldn't finish. Just held Tiana tighter. Christopher looked at his daughter one more time. Your performance was extraordinary," he said softly.
"Good luck tonight." Then he left before he fell apart in front of them. Outside in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall and tried to breathe. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone. He'd just saved his daughter, but he still hadn't told her who he was. Meanwhile, word was spreading.
Carol had organized the hospital staff. The Riverside Apartments neighbors had created a Facebook event. Support Tiana Turner. Finals night. The Black Church Youth Choir was mobilizing.
By 5:00 p.m., there was a line around the community center block. 800 People trying to get into a 400 seat auditorium. # let Tiana sing was trending nationally. Hamburg 3 on Twitter. Victoria saw the crowd from her car and realized she'd lost before the competition even started. 700 P.m.
The auditorium was chaos controlled by fire marshal regulations. 400 Seats packed seats. 300 More in an overflow room with a live stream. Another 150 outside with speakers. News cameras lined the back wall.
Local ABC, NBC, even a CNN stringer who'd driven 2 hours. The energy in the room was electric, protective, hopeful. Front row center, Diane Turner, so thin her dress hung off her frame, headscarf wrapped carefully, makeup covering the worst of her palar. Carol sat beside her, holding her hand. Rows 2 through 10, Riverside neighbors, hospital staff in scrubs, church youth choir members wearing matching Justice for Tiana t-shirts someone had printed that afternoon.
The back rows, supporters from the viral video, strangers who'd driven hours, media, people recording everything. Five finalists had made it through. The performance order was random draw. Madison Mitchell drew number three. Tiana drew number five, last.
The pressure of going last after two rounds of viral videos and national attention would crush most adult performers. For a 10-year-old, it should have been impossible. But Tiana had already lost everything once today. She had nothing left to lose. Madison performed third.