The letterhead is simple and crisp. A law firm I recognize from her book acknowledgments. I don’t have to read a word to know who this is from and what it’s about.
CEASE AND DESIST NOTICE
Re: The unauthorized publication and distribution of defamatory content through the website titled HEAR US ROAR.
Dear Ms. Parks,
You are hereby instructed to remove all existing posts referencing Dr. Althea Ralston from said platform and to cease all solicitation of materials relating to her academic and professional career.
This includes, but is not limited to:
-Allegations of plagiarism
-Unsubstantiated claims of professional misconduct
-Any reference to Dr. Ralston by name or implication
Failure to do so within 24 hours will result in immediate legal action.
I drop the letter onto my bed, my eyes still locked on the page. Even at this late hour, my phone is still buzzing. Notifications keep coming in from the website, along with emails. More stories, more evidence. More people who thought no one cared enough to listen.
Because that’s exactly what she wants.
She wants us to believe no one cares.
And now this. She wants to silence the site. Silence us.
Of course she does. She couldn’t make me disappear on her own, couldn’t offer a price high enough to buy my silence, so now she’s calling in the machine. The university will press on with their weaponized silence disguised as pragmatism while Ralston throws everything she has at me—warnings dressed in suits and legal paper. Clean. White. Cold.
That worked on me once. Veiled threats wore masks of civility, hinting gently at expulsion from Havenport or the erosion of a career that always shimmered just out of reach, like a mirage. A happy, successful future that, in the end, never came.
But I am not twenty-two anymore. And I’m not alone.
I pick up the letter again, smoothing the corner.
She wants it all gone. The posts, the stories, the names. She thinks because it’s what she wants, she should get it. As easy as that.
I won’t let her win.
I open the website, wait for it to load, and begin to type.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I don’t take the site down. I post the letter instead.
A scanned copy of Ralston’s threat.
I make it the home page—pinned to the top, front and center, with a note above it in bold, red font.
I wanted you all to see what I’m up against.
Legal threats. A letter demanding silence. A beloved scholar with power and a platform telling her former students, mentees, and victims that their stories don’t deserve to be told.
That her success means more than our pain.
Rest assured, I will not take this site down. I will fight for your stories—and mine—to be heard. I will face the consequences for all of us.
If you’ve been told your story could ruin someone’s career, ask yourself why they built that career on a foundation that required silence. Ask yourself what your silence gives them, what it costs you.
