Chapter 5 - The Minion's Cracking Veneer
We knew the law wouldn't move fast enough to protect Dana's reputation. Suburban gossip travels at the speed of light, and Tracy Parker held court over the local social hierarchy like a ruthless queen. Her husband, Greg Parker, was the managing partner at a corporate litigation firm downtown; he had already retained a criminal defense attorney to ensure the prosecutor filed maximum charges against Dana by Monday morning.
If we wanted to save Dana, we needed the source: Chloe's phone, the live-stream recording, and the locker room pictures.
At 7:00 AM on Sunday, I stood on the porch of the Collins household, three blocks away.
Savannah Collins was eleven years old, soft-featured, and had been Hailey and Chloe’s shadow since kindergarten. Her mother, Megan Collins, was a practical woman—a pediatric nurse who had never fully blended into Tracy Parker's designer-clad entourage.
When Megan opened the door in her bathrobe, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Rachel? What's going on? I saw the post online... everyone is talking about—"
"Megan, I need five minutes," I interrupted gently. "Please. As one mother to another. Your daughter was there yesterday. And your daughter is in serious legal danger."
Megan frowned, her protective maternal instincts immediately flaring. "What are you talking about? Savannah didn't do anything."
"Let me show you Molly's journal," I said, holding up a small spiral notebook Molly had handed me before I left the house. "And then I want you to ask Savannah why she brought a bottle of industrial adhesive and salon-grade bleach to my daughter's birthday party."
Megan stared at me for three long seconds. The defensive edge in her eyes melted into profound bewilderment. She stepped aside and opened the door. "Come in."
Ten minutes later, Savannah was sitting on the living room sofa, sobbing uncontrollably into her flannel pajama sleeves while Megan stood over her, trembling with rage.
"You brought *what* into that house?!" Megan shouted, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"Chloe told me I had to!" Savannah wailed, her face purple with guilt. "She said if I didn't bring it from my sister's vanity, she wouldn't let me sit at the cheer table at lunch anymore! She said she would tell everyone I stole money from the book fair!"
"Where is the video, Savannah?" I asked, kneeling before the girl, keeping my voice calm, steady, and devoid of the burning fury inside me. "Hailey was holding her phone. Were you streaming?"
"It was on a private Discord server," Savannah sobbed, wiping her runny nose. "There were forty kids from fifth and sixth grade in the voice call. Chloe set up the channel. She called it 'The Molly Makeover.' She said when Molly leaned in, she was going to push Molly's head into the cake, pour the glue on her hair, and tell everyone Molly did it herself because she was crazy."
Megan covered her mouth with both hands, gasping in utter horror. "Sweet Jesus, Savannah... you participated in this?"
"I didn't want to!" Savannah cried, pulling her phone from her pocket and shoving it into her mother’s hands. "Here! It’s all in the chat! Look at what Chloe texted us! She sent the photos of Molly changing clothes to prove she wasn't playing around!"
Megan unlocked the screen, scrolled for thirty seconds, and then looked at me. Her face was stark white.
"Rachel," Megan whispered, her voice choked with nausea. "I'm calling the police right now."
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"No," I said, standing up. "Don't call the patrol desk. We take this straight to the county prosecutor and the superintendent. We are going to end this today."
***
