I stepped squarely between the reporter and Big Rick, physically blocking the camera lens with my body.
The reporter stumbled backward, startled, instinctively pulling her microphone away. “Whoa, ma’am, excuse me, we’re doing a live broadcast—”
“Good!” I yelled, my chest heaving, my voice echoing across the parking lot. I turned to look directly into the glowing lens of the news camera. “Keep it rolling! Make sure every single person in this county sees exactly who this man really is!”
Big Rick’s eyes widened in panic, but he quickly masked it with a look of exhausted condescension. He let out a heavy sigh and turned toward the police officer who was sprinting up behind me.
“Officer Davis, please,” Rick said smoothly, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “This poor woman is completely traumatized. She was standing near the blast. She’s hysterical and clearly not in her right mind. You need to remove her before she hurts herself.”
Officer Davis grabbed my upper arm in a vise grip. “Alright, ma’am, you’re coming with me right now. You’re interfering with an investigation and creating a public disturbance. Walk.”
“I have proof!” I screamed, ripping my arm out of the officer’s grip with a violent twist. I reached into my back pocket and whipped out my phone, holding it high in the air. “He is lying! He is lying to you, he is lying to the news, and he is trying to murder the dog that saved my daughter’s life to cover up his own crime!”
The crowd behind the police tape suddenly went dead silent. The only sounds were the distant wail of sirens and the low rumble of the idling fire trucks.
Officer Davis paused, his hand hovering over his radio. “What are you talking about?”
“A teenager in line behind me was recording the entire thing,” I said, my voice ringing out with absolute, undeniable certainty. I glared directly at Big Rick. The arrogant vendor’s face had suddenly lost a fraction of its color. The confident slump of his shoulders went rigid.
“That’s ridiculous,” Rick scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly, a thin edge of panic bleeding into his tone. “She’s making things up. She’s in shock. Officer, get her out of here!”
“Then you won’t mind if we watch it,” I fired back.
I didn’t hand the phone to the police officer. I stepped forward, grabbed the local news reporter’s microphone by the foam cover, and held my phone’s speaker directly against it. I tapped the screen and cranked my volume to the absolute maximum.
Because the microphone was tied directly into the news van’s external audio broadcast system, the sound from my phone didn’t just play for the officer. It echoed out of the heavy monitors mounted on the side of the news van, projecting across the entire triage area for every single paramedic, firefighter, police officer, and civilian to hear.
The audio started. The upbeat carnival music. The hum of the crowd.
And then, roaring out of the massive speakers like a jet engine, the undeniable, violent sound of the leaking propane gas.
Hssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
Officer Davis’s jaw tightened. He stepped closer, staring down at the bright screen of my phone.
On the screen, and visible to the officer and the reporter, Big Rick wiped his hands on his apron, clearly looking down at the massive tear in the rubber hose.
“He sees it,” I narrated loudly, pointing at the screen. “He hears the gas. He knows the valve is broken. And he does absolutely nothing to stop it.”
The crowd behind the tape began to murmur, the sound rising in pitch and anger.
The audio from my phone continued to play over the speakers. The desperate, high-pitched whining of the stray dog.
“Listen,” I demanded.
Over the speakers, Big Rick’s voice boomed, clear as a bell. “Hey! Get out of here, you filthy rat!”
And then, the sickening, hollow thud of a heavy steel-toed boot kicking the ribs of a seventy-pound animal.