“My latest articlehas only been posted for about two hours, and it’s really performing. It already has over a thousand reads and almost three hundred comments. The city seems just as fed up with all the corruption as I am, and I love that for us. I’ll check back in later with another update.”
Nahla tapped the red button on her phone’s screen to end her voice note and saved it before leaning back in her desk chair with a small smile. For the last four years, Nahla had been the chief investigative journalist for Atlanta’s largest newspaper. Unveiling the truths hidden around her was Nahla’s passion, and a city like Atlanta gave her plenty to uncover.
Eight months ago, she left her busy city life to move back to her hometown to help her siblings care for her father, whohad fallen ill. The lead journalist for their city’s newspaper,The Citizen’s Eye,had recently retired, and the paper was happy to hire someone with Nahla’s credentials to take his place.
She had written some pretty interesting pieces since she had been home, but none of them quite quenched her thirst for real investigative journalism. Well, . . . untilnow.
“This story is doing great numbers, Nahla. Well done.”
Straightening up in her chair, Nahla turned around to meet her editor-in-chief’s smiling face. Mr. Hill had been over the paper for as long as Nahla could remember. During her senior year of high school, she interned at the paper as a part of the work-based learning program, and she learned a lot about journalism working under him. Mr. Hill was the reason she moved to Atlanta in the first place. Because she admired his talent so much, she wanted to get a journalism degree from his Alma Mater,Trudale University.
Nahla returned his smile. “Thanks, Mr. Hill. I’m excited to continue with this story. I just have to run down a couple of leads before I write my next piece,” she replied, subconsciously turning to glance at her desk calendar. She had the next couple of days marked with a gold gel pen because she would be spending them in Lyle, Chaney, following up on her leads.
When she drove her father to Lyle for his doctor’s appointment four weeks ago, she had no idea she would be driving home with a story she would become so passionate about.
It was common knowledge in North Chaney that law enforcement and the government in Lyle were less than fair to their citizens of color. While sitting in the waiting room of her father’s doctor’s office, Nahla struck up a conversation with the only other Black person in the room—an elderly woman waiting for her husband to finish his appointment.
The woman ended up telling Nahla all about how her husband had been a farmer all his life, but had recently lost his property because their land had been seized by the city due to “criminal evidence” that had apparently been reported. The couple had been harassed for weeks but were never arrested for any of the so-calledevidence. According to Mrs. Green, they had been threatened to sign temporary forfeiture forms while their property was under investigation.
The sheriff assured the couple that their land would be returned to them once the investigation was complete, but three months later, it was bulldozed.
What started as a routine trip to the doctor turned into an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Green over lunch, where she documented their story and got permission to write about it as long as she agreed not to mention their names and to post it after they moved to Jai City with their son.
Nahla kept up her end of the bargain, and now that the Greens were officially out of the city, she had officially published her first piece in what was sure to be an enlightening investigative series on the corruption in Lyle.
She had already discovered what seemed to be inconsistent paperwork from county records, but she needed to talk to the people whose names were on the documents to better understand her findings. She could hardly wait.
Mr. Hill chuckled. “I love how passionate you are about the work we do. You remind me of myself at your age. I just need you to be careful with all the time you’re spending in Lyle,” he said, giving her a knowing look.
While Black and brown people made upmostof Chaney’s demographic, Lyle was one of the few cities that was still predominantly White. Their police force was notorious for locking people up for no other reason than driving while Black.
Continuing, Mr. Hill said, “You should take Simon or Damien with you,justin case.
Nahla nodded. “I don’t want to drag them along on their day off, Mr. Hill. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Hill said, “I know you’re gon’ do what you want anyway. Just make sure you check in while you’re there.”
“Yes, sir,” she said softly.
His words touched her in a way that only he could. Nahla loved her father more than anything, but unfortunately, they had never had the closest relationship. Up until he got sick, her father was the principal ofJasona High.Her mother served fifteen years as an educator and nine as an elementary school principal before she passed away four years ago.
Her older brother was a school administrator, and her younger sister was a middle school math teacher, which made her father extremely proud. Nahla was the only one who veered off the path their parents had set for them, and although they never said it, they were never okay with her career choice.
Investigative journalism was exciting, unpredictable, and sometimes a little risky. Those were not traits that the Averys were raised to embrace. Her parents loved the education field because it was a noble—andsafe—profession. You did your time, got a steady raise each year, and retired when it was time to.
Her parents couldn’t understand her desire to climb the ranks as a writer, when promotions, raises, and even good story opportunities were never guaranteed. Because they couldn’t understand it, they distanced themselves from it, and as they drifted apart, it became easier for Nahla to stay away.
Mr. Hill was different, though. He understood her fervent curiosity and her desire to earn her position through hard work and tenacity. Since they’d met, he always encouraged her to pursue her dreams, and in some ways had been more like afather than her own. She cherished their relationship more than he probably knew.
Mr. Hill remained at her desk for a few more minutes before heading to his own office. Once Nahla was alone again, she lost herself in her work. After transcribing her latest interview, highlighting quotes she wanted to use in her follow-up story, and responding to several emails, it was past time for her lunch break.
Because she was spending the weekend in Lyle, Nahla was taking half the day off to prepare, so once she said goodbye to a few people, she packed up her belongings and left the office.
The next morning, Nahla was on the road. As she squinted her eyes at the rising sun, she groaned. Sunrise and sunset were the worst times to drive, in her opinion, because she could barely see the road. She was annoyed with herself for not getting on the road earlier. Luckily, Lyle was only about an hour and a half away from Jasona. She wouldn’t be in the cartoolong.
Reaching into her cupholder, she grasped her piping-hot caramel macchiato and took a few sips before gently placing it back and tapping her phone, which was mounted on her dashboard. After unlocking it and beginning a new voice recording, she began speaking.
“It is January seventeenth, and I am on the road to Lyle, Chaney, for follow-up interviews. I need to confirm at least two more cases of forced forfeitures if I’m going to continue on this investigative journey, so that’s the goal today. The questions that I’d like answered by the end of this trip are, ‘Who signed theseizure orders? Who broke into the Greens’ hotel and stole their copies? What company is benefiting from all of this?’”
