It's Victoria. She's protecting Madison. Christopher was already in his car, already driving. What's the deadline?
2 p.m. She needs documentation she can't possibly have. What's the office address, Chris? What are you?
Send me the address now. 12 minutes later, Christopher pulled into the community center parking lot, tires screeching. He'd been up all night. His eyes were red.
His suit was wrinkled. He looked half crazy. He felt half crazy because somewhere in that building, his 10-year-old daughter was about to lose her only chance to save her mother's life. And he'd be damned if he'd let her face this alone twice.
1:35 p.m. Twenty-five minutes until the deadline. Christopher burst through the community center office door without knocking. Diane and Tiana sat in plastic chairs against the wall, both looking defeated.
Tiana's eyes were swollen from crying. Diane held her daughter tight, one hand stroking her hair, whispering something Christopher couldn't hear. Victoria stood by Brian's desk, arms crossed. victorious smile on her face. They all turned when Christopher entered.
I'm halting this disqualification, Christopher said. His voice was cold, controlled, deadly. Effective immediately. Victoria's smile faltered.
Excuse me. This is an internal competition matter. You're a guest judge. You don't have authority.
I'm also a lawyer. Christopher pulled out his phone, opened a folder of documents his assistant had emailed him at 3:00 a.m. Entertainment law, UCLA law school, member of the California Bar. Let me educate you on what you're attempting here.
He turned to Brian, ignoring Victoria completely. Non-commercial cover songs posted by minors for practice purposes fall under fair use provisions. 17 U.S.C. Section 107. No licensing required if no monetization occurred, which it didn't. Brian opened his mouth.
Christopher cut him off. Applying adult contract law standards to a child aged 7 to 10, legally indefensible, ethically reprehensible. She was seven. She couldn't legally consent to terms of service even if she'd tried.
He pulled up another document. Selective enforcement. You didn't vet other contestants' childhood social media. That's discriminatory practice.
Actionable under civil rights law. Victoria's face started going pale. Filing ethics complaints without proper investigation that specifically target a black contestant. Christopher's voice went quieter, more dangerous.
That's grounds for federal discrimination lawsuit. I will personally fund it. I have five attorneys on retainer and unlimited resources. He held up his phone, hit play on the recording.
Victoria's voice filled the office. Rules are rules. Madison has trained for eight years. File the complaint.
Victoria's face went white. You recorded? That's illegal. California is a two-party-consent state, but there's an exception for documenting illegal activity.
Discrimination is illegal. Congratulations, you documented yourself. He turned back to Brian. I have my law firm on speed dial.
I'm prepared to file federal discrimination lawsuit, contact every competition sponsor with this recording, and alert national media that this competition is targeting a 10-year-old Black girl for practicing music online as a child. His eyes were ice. Your arts council funding gone by Monday. Your reputation destroyed.
Every sponsor pulled this community center liable for millions in damages. Tiana watched this stranger defend her, confusion clear on her small face. Who are you? Christopher looked at her.
For one moment, his controlled facade cracked. Pain flashed across his face. Someone who should have been here a long time ago. Before Tiana could ask what that meant, Christopher turned back to Brian.
Withdraw the complaint now or I start making calls. The silence in the office was suffocating. Brian's hands shook as he clicked his mouse. Complaint withdrawn.
Contestant 32 is cleared to perform tonight. In writing, Brian typed frantically, printed, signed, handed the paper to Diane with trembling hands. I'm sorry, Ms. Turner. I'm truly sorry.
I should never have You should never have listened to a racist, Christopher said flatly. He turned to Victoria. If you attempt any further interference with this contestant, I will end you professionally, personally, legally. Are we clear?
Victoria said nothing. Just grabbed her purse and fled. Christopher watched her go, then turned to Diane and Tiana. Up close, the resemblance was undeniable.
Tiana had his eyes, his chin, his exact bone structure. Diane looked older, harder, worn down by years of struggle, but still beautiful, still fierce. Diane stared at him. Really stared.
Her eyes narrowed. Christopher. He froze. Mama.
Tiana looked between them, confused. You know him. Diane's face cycled through shock, recognition, rage. Get out, Diane.
Get out. Her voice shook. You don't get to do this. Not now.
Not after. She couldn't finish. Just held Tiana tighter. Christopher looked at his daughter one more time.
Your performance was extraordinary, he said softly. Good luck tonight. Then he left before he fell apart in front of them. Outside in the hallway, he pressed his back against the wall and tried to breathe.
His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone. He'd just saved his daughter, but he still hadn't told her who he was. Meanwhile, word was spreading. Carol had organized the hospital staff.
The Riverside Apartments neighbors had created a Facebook event. Support Tiana Turner. Finals night. The Black Church Youth Choir was mobilizing.
By 5:00 p.m., there was a line around the community center block. Eight hundred people were trying to get into a 400-seat auditorium. #LetTianaSing was trending nationally. It reached number three on Twitter. Victoria saw the crowd from her car and realized she'd lost before the competition even started.