Then, three months before the hearing, the floor fell out from under me.

I arrived at Oakridge one evening to find my security badge deactivated.

The building manager, looking uncomfortable, handed me a termination letter citing “multiple anonymous complaints regarding unprofessional conduct and petty theft.”

It was a fabrication. I’d never taken so much as a paperclip. I pleaded, I cried, but the decision was final.

The lost income devastated us. We fell behind on rent. I started skipping meals so Nolan and my mother could eat, and lay awake at night wondering how I’d keep the lights on.

It wasn’t until weeks later, scrubbing floors at a replacement job that paid half as much, that a former coworker texted me a rumor. The anonymous complaints hadn’t been random.