Chapter 6: Problems

There is a 10-minute break between the 2nd and 3rd periods. It is during this time that I am heading to my locker. When I get to the foyer, I can see Brenden, the abusive kid that Grace dated instead of me. He is shouting obscenities at Grace. Brenden has her by the hair and is pulling her into the closest classroom. It is obvious he is going to give her a beating, and nobody is doing anything about it. I get to them just in time to block his way into the classroom.

He stops and looks up at me, saying, “So you think you can steal my whore?”

“She isn’t a whore. It is also time you stop beating helpless little girls. First off, she is a human, not your property. Second, I believe it was last week she broke up with you. Everybody has seen how she was forced to wear a turtleneck to hide all the bruising.”

He tries to punch me in the face. I lower my head, effectively head butting his fist. You can hear the breaking of bone in his hand over the din of the crowd. Brenden is cursing and swearing at me when he decides to kick me instead. I step back through the door, and he connects with the doorframe. I doubt Brenden broke any bones this time, but he has a limp now. He hobbles back as I move forward. I’m not attacking, all I want to do is get between Grace and Brenden. That is when Mr. Rains decides to step in. He watched the entire thing, including Brenden dragging Grace across the foyer by her hair. The asshole is only stepping in now because he hates me.

Mr. Rains says, “Fighting again, Mr. Brown. I guess another trip to the Principal’s office is in store for you.”

I’m disgusted by the asshole and reply, “You know dam right, that isn’t what happened. Twist the facts all you want. There are well over a hundred witnesses. I never instigated anything, and I never attacked.”

Mr. Rains helps Brenden to the office. I have learnt a lot in the 54 years since I dealt with these fools last. One of the reasons the principle has never taken my side is people tend to believe the first thing they hear over the truth. It almost doesn’t matter how absurd the original tale is or how obvious the truth is. The Principal always got the story from the dishonest teacher first. I was fighting an uphill battle.

Like my last visit, before the teacher can follow, I take off to the office. This time, I take Grace with me. I knock as the Principal was about to leave, and he opens his door. He shakes his head in disgust, saying, “Already Mr. Brown. We haven’t finished sorting things out from your last visit.”

“I guess you will have learnt that you need to deal with things properly, or I will get the authorities involved. I gave you a chance to deal with things properly last time, and you refused too. Just like last time, I’m here giving you another chance. I should be phoning the police but want to see if you learnt anything.”

He steps aside to let me into his office. I gesture for Grace to head in before me.

He asks, “What is it this time?”

I smile at him as a challenge to defy me, “Criminal negligence resulting in child abuse, the same thing my parents will be charged with, as well as three counts of assault. Brenden grabbed Grace by the hair and dragged her across the foyer, attempting to get her alone in the classroom so he could beat her again. Mr. Rains witnessed the entire thing and refused to intervene. I stepped between the door and Brenden, and he punched me in the head, breaking his fist. He then tried to kick me, but I back stepped into the classroom. He missed, kicking the door frame. That is two assaults against Grace. Come here, honey.” She steps forward, and I show him her red scalp from Brenden, dragging her by the hair.

“You can see the evidence of him pulling her hair. If you get the school nurse, she can take Grace into a private room and have Grace show her the week-old bruises from his previous assault. The criminal negligence is just another one of your teachers refusing to do their job because you have refused to do yours.”

The Principal ignores my slight against him. He is used to my verbal abuse. “Those are some serious accusations.”

“As usual, you have a ton of witnesses. I’m guessing you are going to be your typical lazy ass self and refuse to ask any of them a thing. The only question is how lazy and incompetent are you going to be this time. Do I have to phone the cops again?”

“I’m sure we can figure it out without them.”

“Nothing you have ever shown me leads me to believe that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You are seriously going to ask that like you are some innocent bystander? Almost every time something has happened to me in this school, you have refused to ask the witnesses what happened. You assume I am at fault and then discipline the victim. You are a coward and too much of a lazy bastard to be a Principal. Any parent to trust you with their kid is a fool.”

I know insulting the person in charge isn’t the smartest thing, but he has proven over the last 16 months how he will never do the right thing. Instead, he makes uninformed decisions and punishes innocents rather than taking his time to make sure he does the right thing.

As expected, the Principal believes the teacher over Grace and me. I am ready for this. I go to my locker and collect my books for when my foster parents show up. In my locker is a tape recorder. I bring it with me, back to the office. I stop outside the office to use the public phone. This time, I phone the regular number to the police station. I bring the recorder up to the speaker on the phone, recording my voice as well as the operators.

When the operator answers, I tell her my name and that I wanted to report one case of child abuse and 3 of assault. She starts asking me questions, and when she gets to asking the address, I tell her. She responds, “I’m sorry, but we do not respond to school matters. If there is a problem, the Principal will call us.”

“All well and good. Did you know, the Canadian Privacy Act of 1983 establishes that I have the right to record any phone call that I am a participant in unless I am talking with an employee?”

“No, Mr. Brown, I did not.”

“Truth is, I have been recording this conversation and will be sending copies to the numerous news outlets in BC and Alberta. Are the RCMP still going to refuse to investigate serious crimes simply because they happen on school property?”

“Are you threatening us?”

“No, just stating facts. I already have things in motion to deal with this school, your detachment and all the criminal activities that go on between. No matter what your detachment does, this recording will be made public. Thank you for your time.”

The Principal didn’t see me make the phone call. When I get into the outer office, Grace is still there. Without anybody seeing, I palm the tape and give it to her. I move in as if kissing her ear, but instead whisper, “Hide the tape, preferably in a friend’s locker.” She puts it in her pocket and waits to be dismissed. She leaves before the police arrive.

Two police officers come in. One asks the secretary where there is a private room where he can take my statement. Thankfully, I have another tape in the machine and hit record as I am led off to the in-school suspension room. The first thing the cop does is ask for the recording of the phone call. I remind him that it is not legal for him to question me for any reason without my guardian present. He tries spinning a yarn that I am a ward of the state, and so he is my guardian. I laugh at him. He has no way of knowing he is dealing with a 69-year-old man. He thinks I am just some dumb punk kid. After a half-hour interrogating me, without success, he leaves.

His partner comes in asking questions about what happened. He already heard the Principal and Mr. Rains’ version. Unfortunately for them, he is required to check with more than me and the teacher.

According to the pig, Mr. Rains claimed I attacked Brenden for no reason. Then I slammed his hand in the door and stomped on Brenden’s foot. The cop wouldn’t tell me Brenden’s version of the story, but from what the cop didn’t say, I was able to confirm that Brenden’s and Mr. Rain’s versions didn’t line up.

I hear Grace get paged to the office. When she confirms my story, a list of kids gets called to the office. It is almost twenty minutes later before they let me out of the suspension room.

When I get to the outer office, my foster Mom is there. She has heard what happened and is taking the Principal’s version of events as gospel. She doesn’t quite chew me out for the altercation, but she does express her disappointment. What she is pissed at was my phoning the police. Believing the Principal’s tale, she had no option left but to think I called the police in a half-baked attempt to worm my way out of trouble. I tried telling her, more things were going on in the school than she knew, but she had heard it all from other foster kids and didn’t believe me. She kept on telling me to stop making up stories. I don’t blame her. She has dealt with problem children for years, and they tend to make excuses and try to lie their way out of punishment. She is acting how life has programmed her to.

She finishes her lecture when I see two police officers walking Mr. Rains out wearing handcuffs. A few minutes later, Brenden walks by in cuffs too. Seeing this has her jaw on the floor. She immediately apologizes, “I’m sorry for not believing you. You have to admit it is not something you see every day.”

“Did you read my file? It is not something you see every day. I am an anomaly.”

That made her laugh. She stops when the Principal comes out. He says, “Well, Mr. Brown, you maneuvered your way out of another one.”

“I did no such thing. You were warned, if you refused to do your job, I would make sure the authorities did theirs. When they refused to, I let them know I recorded the phone call. I know, you are now looking for that tape. Let me put your mind at ease. I gave it to a friend that gave it to a friend and so on. I don’t know who has it, only that I can get it back. I also know it is not on school property. From now on, I will record every conversation with the police, and if I can hide a recorder good enough, then every conversation we have will be recorded. According to the Canadian Privacy Act of 1983, I have that right. On the other hand, even with consent, you do not have the right to record our conversations, as you are in a position of authority over me. It is considered entrapment, and you could do serious time for it.”

“You don’t have the right to record anything on school grounds, Mr. Brown. If I catch you, there will be hell to pay.”

“I think you might want to talk to a lawyer about that. It is quite clear. This is public property. You do not get to dictate which laws apply. For that matter, if I wanted to wear a wire and record our conversation, even within your home, I am legally allowed.”

“You cannot.”

“You already know I sleep in all my classes. What do you think I need all that time to sleep for? I study law at night when people think I am sleeping. Every one of your teachers can tell you, if you gave me a placement test, I would be a High School graduate. I am smarter than any three people in this town. Do you want to do your job and forget about this, or are you going to fight me and regret it?”

My foster Mom tries to intervene, “I know he didn’t do right by you today, but you really shouldn’t threaten your Principal.”

“I didn’t threaten him. I asked him a question.”

I open my bookbag.

“I am recording this. There is no way I would do something illegal in a recording.”

That got him red-faced.

“Give me that you little brat.”

I smile back at him.