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But procedures are procedures.
And in the end, all twelve of us were cuffed and placed in separate vehicles.
No one said much during the ride.
Because we all knew something the paperwork didn’t show.
We hadn’t come there to start trouble.
We came because no one else would stop it.
Three days later, things started to change.
The story got out—not from us, but from Melissa. The records were pulled. The calls were verified. The ignored reports were suddenly very real when someone bothered to look closely.
Charges were filed. Not against us—but against him.
And quietly, without cameras or headlines, the cuffs that had been placed on us were followed by something else entirely.
A dismissal.
When we saw Melissa again, she was at the diner. Same place. Same shift.
But this time, her sleeves were rolled up.
And for the first time, her smile actually reached her eyes.
She didn’t say much when we walked in.
She just nodded.
And slid twelve cups of coffee across the counter—on the house.