Page 52 of Kisses

Chapter 20

Sullivan

My assistant and manager are preparing me for my discussion on investigating one of the biggest tragedies that has occurred in Omaha’s history. When I started my research on Gregory Maddox, it was all about exposing his demented mind. That was the easy part. However, after reading what one of my student’s wrote, I dug in deeper.

Reading her story motivated me to take the angle she took with her paper. That voice needed to be told. Granted, the meat of the book is about Maddox but the rest is about the survivors and victims. Especially one in particular, Anastasia Hart, a heroine in a disguise. Yes, I had a lot of background information on her that was not in the report. I chose not to share any of that. It is no one’s business. I wanted to focus on the fact that she saved not only her young daughter’s life but several others. The fact she didn’t want to be known as a hero shows her character. She protected her daughter from the grave. None of this hit me until I thought further into why her mother asked her not to say anything.

Anastasia’s personal life could potentially ruin any success for her daughter and all her work in putting criminals in jail would be questioned. That would have ruined her legacy and her daughter’s future. Until that one day, her daughter wrote about it in a school assignment.

I tried contacting this student numerous times about her report being displayed in my book. I felt it was only appropriate. When someone takes my class, they sign an agreement to allow me to use their research. I left this student’s name anonymous. I really hope she gets her hands on a copy of the book. I hope she realizes the impact and inspiration she had toward the process of this book. If it weren’t for her, this book would have never been so successful.

The conference is starting. The auditorium fills up with several criminalists, reporters, behavioral analysts and true crime nerds. There has been some questions about the sources I used for this book. It’s all because I used her name anonymously. The questions will be loaded for sure. I am prepared for it. This is the game.

The emcee introduces me to the audience. Everybody stands and claps. I cannot believe I have taken my career to this point. It baffles me. I feel this is the moment I have hit my prime. I am set for life. With this book doing so well, my other documentaries have soared in sales. It is a dream come true.

When the clapping stops, I start discussing the documentary. I show pictures. Provide quotes from the survivors. It is important for me to show a remembrance of those who lost their lives that one day, especially Anastasia. She was the true hero of this tragedy. She took his life, so he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

I open the floor for questioning. I look toward the audience and a young female barges her way down to the podium to ask questions. She is cutthroat. She wants to be the first to ask me questions.

Due to the lighting, I can only vaguely see her. I can see the other individuals making comments to her when she pushes her way to the front of the line. She grabs the microphone.

Now, I am able to see her. I cannot believe it. It is her. My anonymous, the woman I fell deeply in love with, the woman who looks like she is going to tear me apart for using her story in my book.

I greet, “Hello, Ms. Keaton.”

“Oh, you know my name. Lucky me,” she says snarky.

“Yes, I do. You were a student of mine.”

“Yeah, I remember. I’m so glad you remembered too. I am so honored.”

She is beyond pissed off. She has every right to be, but again, I had her permission since day one. She chose not to respond to my emails.

I encourage, “Ms. Keaton, what questions do you have for me?”

“Why didn’t you reveal your sources when it comes to the final moments of Anastasia Hart?”

“I was unable to get in contact with my source.”

“You were unable to reach your source. So, you decided to use their information anyway.”

“My source was a student of mine. At the beginning of the semester, I have all students sign an agreement that anything they provide in class could be used in my research. She signed off.”

“Do you really think this person would want you to reveal what happened that day?”

“If she didn’t want it to be discussed, she should have never written about it. She had the option to keep it to herself.”

Lyla angrily shakes her head and says, “It wasn’t your story to tell.”

In agreement, I nod, “You’re correct. However, any information I was given on this topic, I am going to use. It not only helped me as an author but it also helped my readers grasp what really happened that day. My student wanted her mother to be known as a hero. I agreed.”

Lyla rubs her eyes and yells, “How could you use my stuff?”

“Because I knew it meant so much to you about your mother.”

“It wasn’t your story. It was hers,” she cries.

“Ms. Keaton, it was the story you wanted to represent for not only your mother and yourself but also for the others. All voices needed to be heard.”