When the tears finally stopped, I looked directly into her eyes.
“In an hour’s time, we’re going to pay Daniel and his parents a visit.”
I found Daniel’s mother’s phone number in a parent contact directory that had been shared for graduation planning.
I sent her a message explaining that we needed to talk.
When Ellie and I arrived at their large hillside home, both she and her husband were already waiting by the front door.
As soon as I explained what their son had done, the color drained from their faces.
Daniel was called downstairs.
He appeared wearing sweatpants, still groggy from sleep and irritated about being summoned.
Then he saw us.
His face immediately turned pale.
His father spoke first.
“You want to tell us what happened on prom night?”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I already told you—”
“Tell it again. In front of them.”
Silence filled the room.
Then, little by little, while his mother’s expression hardened with every sentence, Daniel admitted everything.
When he finished, his father turned toward Ellie.
“I owe you a real apology. On behalf of this family.”
“With respect,” I said carefully, “the apology should come from Daniel.”
Daniel’s mother nodded toward her son.
“I agree, and it shouldn’t be private. He’ll apologize at graduation, in front of the whole year. If that’s agreeable to you.”
I looked at Ellie.
She considered it quietly.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s agreeable.”
His mother nodded.
“Then we’ll speak to the principal and make the arrangements.”
—
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