They told me to call a lawyer. Instead, I put on a pot of coffee.
At 3:17 PM on a Tuesday, a notification flashed on my phone. By 3:30 PM, I wasn’t Mr. Sam, the librarian who has served this town for forty years. I was a “danger to the youth” and a “purveyor of filth.”
The post on the local “Concerned Parents” group had 400 shares in an hour.
The accuser was Brenda, a mother I’ve known since she was a cheerleader at this very high school. She posted a photo of a single paragraph from a book in my library. Taken out of context, the words looked dark. Violent. Ugly.
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