Chapter 11
What We Leave Behind
“Emma’s parents are here,” he said quietly. “Jeff and Lisa. They’re in the conference room.”
Colin stood, gathering his notes. “Thanks. Can you ask Emma if she’d like to join us? Tell her she doesn’t have to, but she’s welcome. And she can leave anytime if she needs to.”
Kyle nodded and disappeared.
Colin took a breath, squared his shoulders, and headed down the hall.
Jeff and Lisa were sitting at the small conference table, hands clasped as if bracing for bad news. Jeff looked tired—the kind of tired that came from weeks of worry. Lisa’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she was gripping a tissue like a lifeline.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bennett,” Colin said, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Campbell-Abrams. I’m a prosecutor in Charlottesville, and I work with Camp Pride. Sharon and Paul told me about Emma’s situation.”
Jeff stood and shook his hand, his grip firm but trembling slightly. “Thank you for meeting with us. We don’t... we don’t know what else to do. She’s terrified of going back to school in the fall.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Colin said. “I’m going to help.”
There was a soft knock at the door. Kyle appeared with Emma, who was clutching her notebook to her chest, eyes on the floor.
“Emma,” Colin said gently. “I’d like you to join us if you’re comfortable. But if at any point you need to leave, that’s okay too. No one’s going to make you stay.”
Emma hesitated, then nodded and slipped into the chair next to her mother. “I—I’d like to stay until the journaling class starts.” Lisa immediately put an arm around her shoulders.
Kyle laid a hand on her shoulder. “Emma, Nate’s still setting up. I will come and get you as soon as the class starts. You won’t miss a minute of it.”
Colin sat down across from them and set his notes on the table.
“Okay. First, I want you to know that what’s happening to Emma is illegal.
Schools have a legal obligation under federal law—Title IX—to protect students from harassment based on sex, including sexual orientation.
If they’re not doing that, they’re breaking the law. ”
Jeff’s jaw tightened. “We’ve told the school. Multiple times. They say they’re ‘handling it,’ but nothing changes.”
“That’s not uncommon,” Colin said. “Schools don’t like admitting they have a problem—especially when LGBTQ+ issues are involved. But that doesn’t mean you’re powerless. There are real, concrete steps that will force the school to act.”
Lisa leaned forward. “What kind of steps?”
Colin pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table.
“First: a formal Title IX complaint. You file this directly with the school district. It’s free, and it puts them on notice that you’re serious.
The school is required by federal law to investigate and respond within a reasonable timeframe. If they don’t, you escalate.”
“Escalate how?” Jeff asked.
“You file a complaint with the Office for Civil Rights—the OCR—at the U.S. Department of Education. Also free. You can do it online. The website URL is right here along with all pertinent information,” He pointed to a second piece of paper, which he slid toward them.
“OCR investigations are a school’s nightmare.
They can lose federal funding if they’re found to be in violation. ”
He pulled out another sheet. “Third: documentation. I need you to start writing down everything. Dates, times, what was said, who said it, who witnessed it, what the school did—or didn’t do—in response.
Keep emails. Keep text messages. If Emma tells you something happened, write it down.
This creates a paper trail, and it becomes evidence if you need to take further legal action. ”
Lisa was writing frantically on the back of an envelope, and, noticing, Colin reached for a blank legal pad and handed it to her. “I’m sorry, Lisa. Meant to give you this earlier. But, trust me, all the information you’ll need is on those papers I gave you.”
“Next,” Colin continued, “I want to know if any of this bullying has crossed into criminal territory. He turned to Emma. “Emma, has anyone physically touched you? Pushed you, hit you, anything like that?”
Emma’s voice was barely audible. “They shove me in the hallway sometimes. And someone threw my lunch tray at me last week.”
Colin’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice steady as he turned back to her parents. “That’s assault. That’s a crime. You can file a police report. It may not result in charges—but it creates a record.”
Jeff looked stunned. “We didn’t know we could do that.”
“Most people don’t,” Colin said. “But you can. And you should. Today.”
He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table.
“This is my cell number. I’m going to call the school district office tomorrow as a representative of the Charlottesville Commonwealth Attorney’s Office.
I’ll make it clear that I’m aware of Emma’s situation and that I expect them to take immediate action.
I can’t prosecute them—it’s not my jurisdiction—but they don’t need to know that,” he said evenly.
“A call from a prosecutor tends to get people’s attention. ” He gave them a slow, small smile.
Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”
Colin pulled out another set of papers. “These are contacts for legal organizations in Virginia that handle civil rights cases. The ACLU of Virginia, Equality Virginia, and Virginia Legal Aid Society—attorneys who will represent you pro bono. They can provide free or low-cost legal representation if you need to sue the school district. And trust me, the threat of a lawsuit will get the superintendent moving.”
He looked at Emma, who was still clutching her notebook and staring at the table. “Emma, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest: do you feel physically safe at school?”
Emma shook her head. “I’m scared every day.”
“Okay,” Colin said. “Then part of the Title IX complaint is going to be a demand for a safety plan. The school needs to provide accommodations—different lunch period, escort between classes, whatever it takes to keep you safe while they investigate.”
Jeff looked at his daughter, then at Colin. “What if this doesn’t work? What if the school still does nothing?”
Colin shook his head. “Honestly? I can’t see that happening.
But if it does, you escalate again,” Colin said.
“You take it to the school board. You make it public. Small-town school boards hate bad publicity. You go to the local paper. You go to the superintendent. You make noise. If that doesn’t work, you sue. ”
He leaned forward. “But here’s what I want you to understand: you are not alone in this. You have legal rights. You have resources. And you have people—like Kyle—who are going to help you fight this.”
Lisa was crying now, and Jeff’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Thank you,” Jeff said, his voice rough. “We didn’t know what to do.”
“You start here,” Colin said. “You file the Title IX complaint this week. You document everything. You call me if the school pushes back. And you call Kyle with any questions or concerns—he’s not going anywhere.”
He looked at Emma again. “Can I talk to you privately for a minute?” He glanced at her parents. “If it’s OK with you.”
Emma glanced at her mother, who nodded. “It’s okay, honey.”
Colin and Emma walked down the hall to the outer office. Emma sat on the couch, still clutching her notebook, and Colin sat in the desk chair, turning it to face her.
“Emma,” he said gently. “I want to make sure you understand what’s going to happen next. Your parents are going to file a complaint with the school. The school will have to investigate. And while that’s happening, we’re going to make sure you’re safe.”
Emma nodded, but she didn’t look up.
“You don’t have to confront the kids who are bullying you. You don’t have to make them stop. That’s the adults’ job. Your job is just to keep showing up and being yourself.”
Emma’s voice was barely a whisper. “But what if it gets worse?”
“Then you tell Kyle. And your parents. Or you call me.” He pulled out another business card and handed it to her. “This is my cell number. If something happens—if someone hurts you, if you feel unsafe—you call me. Day or night. I’ll do my best to pick up.”
Emma took the card carefully, like it might break.
“And if anyone physically touches you—pushes you, hits you, anything like that—you call 911. That’s not a school issue. That’s a crime. And you have the right to be safe.”
Emma finally looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy, but there was something else there too—something that looked like hope.
“Do you really think this will work?” she asked.
“I think it has a much better chance of working now than it did yesterday,” Colin said honestly. “Your parents have tools now. They have a plan. And they have people backing them up. That’s a really strong support system, all focused on one thing: keeping you safe.”
Emma nodded slowly. She tucked the card into her notebook, next to Kyle’s card.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You’re welcome, Emma.”
Kyle stuck his head in the door. “Journaling class is about to start, Emma.”
Colin smiled at her. “You go on to class, Emma.” He leaned a tiny bit closer. “You’re gonna love it. Nate’s a hoot… and he’s a very, very nice man.”
Emma stood and moved, with Kyle, toward the door, and then she paused, turned, and walked back to Colin’s side. She stood for a moment, as if afraid to move, then slowly leaned forward and hugged him. She was light and tense, smelling faintly of shampoo and cafeteria lunch.
Colin felt his chest seize, and his eyes burned with tears.
“Thank you,” Emma whispered.
“I’m just happy I could help, Emma. We’ll talk again.”
He watched as she left, headed toward her journaling class, then lowered his head and swiped away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. “Dammit!” he whispered, his voice choked.