The council members filed in. Nine of them. All looking serious. Official. Powerful. And in the back corner, surrounded by three lawyers in expensive suits, sat Councilman Alan Pierce. He looked smaller than Skye expected. Older. Tired. But his eyes? They were sharp. Cold. Looking right at her. She didn’t look away. The council president banged his gavel. “This emergency session is now in order. We’re here to discuss Resolution 47-B regarding Councilman Pierce’s potential removal from office… We’ll begin with public comments. Three minutes each. First speaker, Skye Washington.”
Evelyn squeezed her hand. “Go get him, baby.” Skye stood. Her legs felt like water. Her heart hammered so hard she could hear it in her ears. She walked to the microphone at the center of the room. Stepped up on the small platform so she could reach it. The room fell silent. Every eye on her. Every camera pointed at her. She looked at Pierce one more time. He stared back, expressionless. Then Skye took a breath and began to speak.
Skye’s voice came out smaller than she wanted at first. “My name is Skye Washington. I’m nine years old. I live on Harper Street with my grandmother.” She paused. Swallowed. Her hands gripped the edges of the podium. “Three months ago, I saved a man’s life. I threw a ball from my window and stopped three men from killing him in an alley. That man was Gavin Parker.” She looked at Gavin briefly. He nodded encouragement. “After that, Mr. Parker wanted to do something nice for my neighborhood. Build us a baseball field. A real one. With lights and bases and dugouts painted the color I picked.” Her voice got steadier. Stronger. “We worked on it for six weeks. Me and my friends and parents and volunteers. We cleaned up trash. We painted. We practiced. For the first time in my whole life, I had something to look forward to every day.” Pierce shifted in his seat. One of his lawyers whispered something to him.
“Then someone destroyed it,” Skye continued. “Spray painted horrible words all over it. Poured oil on the ground. Ripped out the bases. And we found out later that Councilman Pierce paid someone to do it.” “Objection!” one of Pierce’s lawyers stood up. “These are unproven allegations!” “This is public comment, not a trial,” the Council President said firmly. “Sit down. Let her finish.” The lawyer sat. Pierce’s face turned red.
Skye kept going. “He also paid a man named Devin Harris to spy on us. To pretend to be our coach while feeding information to people who wanted to scare us away.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Devin taught me how to pitch better. He learned all our names. He brought us snacks. And the whole time, he was lying. He was helping Councilman Pierce destroy something good.” She took a breath. The room was completely silent now.
“Then they came during practice. Cut the power. Men with weapons stood outside the fence in the dark while kids were screaming and crying and couldn’t find their parents.” Several Councilmembers shifted uncomfortably. “I was on the pitcher’s mound when the lights went out,” Skye said, her voice getting quieter. “I couldn’t see anything. I heard those men laughing. Threatening us. Telling us to shut the field down or they’d come back during the day.” She looked directly at Pierce now. “And you paid for that. You paid for little kids to be terrorized. You paid for parents to be so scared they pulled their children out. You paid to destroy the one good thing our neighborhood had.”
Pierce stood up. “I never—” “SIT DOWN!” the Council President barked. “You’ll get your turn.” Pierce sat slowly, jaw clenched. Skye continued, “I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m asking you to do your job. You’re supposed to protect people. All people. Not just rich ones. Not just the ones who donate to campaigns or whatever.” Her hands were shaking but her voice wasn’t. “You’re supposed to care when a grown man hurts children to make money. And if you don’t vote to remove him…” She paused. “Then you’re just as bad as he is.”
The room erupted. Half the crowd stood, applauding. The other half shouted objections. Pierce’s lawyers were on their feet. News cameras zoomed in. The Council President banged his gavel repeatedly. Order! Order! But Skye was already walking back to her seat. She’d said what she came to say. Evelyn pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, baby. So proud.” Gavin leaned over. “That was perfect.”
Next came other speakers. Parents who’d been at the blackout. Volunteers who’d helped build the field. Even Coach Marcus spoke about the fear he saw in the kids’ eyes. Then Pierce’s lawyers spoke. Denying everything. Calling it a witch hunt. Saying the evidence was circumstantial and inadmissible. Finally, Pierce himself took the microphone. He looked calm. Collected. Like a man who’d done this a thousand times. “I’ve served this city for twelve years,” he began. “Brought jobs. Development. Progress. I’ve never been accused of anything like this before.” He gestured toward Skye. “That little girl has been through trauma. I don’t doubt that. But trauma doesn’t equal truth. Bank transactions don’t prove intent. A recording of someone else confessing doesn’t implicate me.” Several council members nodded. “This is a politically motivated attack,” Pierce continued. “Orchestrated by Mr. Parker because I opposed his project. He’s using a child as a weapon against me.” “Liar!” someone shouted from the crowd. The gavel banged again. Pierce continued calmly, “I’m asking this council to see this for what it is, a smear campaign. And I’m asking you to vote no on this resolution.” He sat down, looking confident.
The council president cleared his throat. “We’ll now deliberate and vote. Council members, please indicate your position.” One by one, they voted. “Councilwoman Harris? I vote yes. Remove him.” “Councilman Bradley? No. Insufficient evidence.” “Councilwoman Chen? Yes. Remove him.” “Councilman Rodriguez? No.” It went back and forth. Each vote making Skye’s stomach tighten more…
