Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT EVERYTHING TURNED AGAINST SILASThe school board meeting ended at 8:42 p.m.
I know because Easton hated late meetings, and I had checked the time three times while packing his tablet and headphones.
The district presented preliminary findings.
Restraint documentation had been inconsistent.
Several incidents involving disabled students had not been reported as required by district procedure.
Paul Grady’s employment review remained pending.
Principal Davis sat at the front table looking like a man who regretted every email he had ever written.
Silas sat three rows behind me.
He said nothing.
When the public comment period ended, Davis approached us near the exit.
“You satisfied?” he asked Silas.
Silas looked at him.
“This isn’t about me.”
Davis lowered his voice.
“You’ve turned parents against this school.”
“No.”
Silas nodded toward the board room.
“Your records did that.”
Several people heard him.
That became important later.
We left separately.
Easton and I went to the car.
Silas stopped near his motorcycle to speak with Boone.
At 9:06, I drove away.
At 9:31, a custodian found Principal Davis on the pavement behind the gym.
He had been struck in the head and shoulder.
His laptop bag was gone.
One security camera captured part of the attack.
The image was grainy.
But it showed a large man in dark clothing.
Heavy boots.
A black motorcycle-style vest.
Gray visible near the jaw.
At 11:14 that night, police knocked on Silas’s door.
I watched through my window as they spoke to him.
Then handcuffed him.
I ran outside.
“What happened?”
One officer raised a hand.
“Ma’am, stay back.”
Silas looked at me.
“Marissa. It’s okay.”
No.
It wasn’t.
Detective Lauren Beck told me the next morning that Davis had identified Silas.
Not from seeing his face clearly.
From build.
Clothing.
Voice.
And from their argument after the board meeting.
The security footage showed a biker-shaped figure entering the back lot.
Silas had an old violent felony.
He had publicly challenged Davis.
And one witness claimed a black motorcycle left the area around the same time.
Every fact leaned in the same direction.
Except Silas said he had gone directly to Boone’s garage after the meeting to help with a fuel leak.
Boone confirmed it.
Police needed more.
Easton reacted worse than I expected.
He refused breakfast.
Refused his tablet.
Refused to go near the garage.
Then he drew the same thing over and over on printer paper.
A black shoe.
A bright orange line.
May you like
I thought he was drawing Silas.
I was wrong.
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