In my line of work, I believe I can spot a liar.
The emotion in her voice, in the details, was heartbreaking. Then again, she was an actress, so I told her I needed her to file a complaint with the police before I’d go public.
She agreed.
“It was almost ten years ago. I know I should be over it,” Susan said.
“Don’t do that,” I replied. “What Taylor did to you is illegal and cruel, and not something you just move on from.”
Afterward, I reached out to my legal team to discuss how we could proceed. The way we say things, encouraging discussion while being morally fair, is important.
It’s up to our audience to decide what they think.
We are not the courts.
I take what I do very seriously. I’m aware that we can make or destroy someone’s life, but this is America, where we are privileged to have free speech, and it’s everyone’s responsibility to protect it.
Historically, humanity has been suppressed by kings, queens, dictators, and leaders. Then someone invented the internet and social media. Now we all have a platform for our voices. It’s human evolution in its next stage.
Will it destroy us or make us better?
History will be the judge of that...not me...or you.
As far as I’m concerned, criminals harming children and innocents should be exposed.
And it was for that reason I agreed to share Susan’s story.
I just never thought I’d get inundated by so many others.
“I’m Brooklyn McKenna, and you have been listening toThe McKenna Files.” I give the audience a smile, my signature salute, and end the show.
Nudging the microphone back, I flop back in my seat and glance around.
“Nice work,” Scott, my sound engineer, says.
Milly taps away at the keyboard, managing the comments and posting the post-show content across all the social channels.
It’s a lot of work now that we are so big.
My father calls itthat little show.Even after my team and I were paramount in giving the local authorities information to find the killer of a five-year unsolved murder in North Carolina. And...drum roll please...the evidence to keep him locked up.
Little show, my ass.
“Thanks.” I stretch my neck and let out a sigh. “God, I need a glass of wine, or ten.”
“I have to skip this week,” Scott says. “The wife is going out to some show, so I’m the babysitter.”
“You aren’t the babysitter; you’re the dad.” I roll my eyes.
Sometimes his comments get my goat, but he’s an excellent engineer and researcher. How his wife puts up with the things he says, I don’t know. But she loves him. And his two little girls are adorable. If they lived in my house, though, I’d want to wring their cute little five- and seven-year-old necks.
I’m single and set in my ways after living alone for a while. I like things to be tidy, peaceful, and organized. White sofas and children don’t really go well together.
Perhaps that’s why I got a white, blue-eyed Ragdoll kitten. Although that didn’t pan out the way I thought it would when Luna chucked up on my two-thousand-dollar rug.
Still, it’s hard to be angry at such a pretty fur ball.But if she does it again...
Friday drinks have become a regular thing after a busy week. We walk down to Midnight’s Bar on Madison and let off some steam, then finish up for the weekend. My apartment is only a few blocks away, so it’s a short walk home.
