“Kirsten Springs is going to put us on the map—at least that’s what Tom says. He’s so full of ideas. Always has been. And sometimes, they’re beautiful. And sometimes, they cost us everything.

I’m not normally one for public affairs. I care about clean linens, about quiet evenings, about the children eating something green once in a while. But last year—we had visitors at the clinic. Stomach cramps, rashes, a case of typhoid in the Svensen family. At first, it just seemed like travel stress or bad oysters. Then more people came. Same complaints. I remember Mrs. Svensen’s niece—her skin blistered after one soak in the spa. And I thank God Tom caught it in time.

But why didn’t he tell me sooner? Why did he keep it secret so long? The entire water system—all of it—has to be replaced. Do you know what that means for a town like ours? Do you know what that means for us?

I’ve seen what lead does to a child. I saw it in the hospital where I trained—children in Flint who couldn’t speak anymore, couldn’t hold their own heads up. You don’t “invest” your way out of that. And I won’t lie to you—I’m scared.

Peter—Tom’s brother—he’s not stupid. But he’s scared too. Scared someone else might do something good for this town. That’s what this is really about. Pride and power. And maybe Tom could’ve handled it differently. Maybe he could’ve said that Peter helped him, or that the town council was already working on a solution. But he didn’t. And now here we are.

He’ll lose his job. They’ll smear him in the press, turn him into a punchline. “Mad doctor bites the hand that feeds him.” We’ll be back where we were—counting grocery money, praying the furnace holds through winter, wondering if this time Eli will notice what’s missing from his birthday cake.

And still—I want him to tell the truth. I do. I do. But I want him home more. I want him alive. And safe. And not hunted by the people we’ve lived beside for twenty years.

I read something a mother said during the Flint hearings. She said, “We were collateral damage in someone else’s dream.” I think about that all the time now. This town has dreams. But I don’t want to be sacrificed on the altar of someone else’s ambition. Not Tom’s. Not Peter’s. Not the press.

God help me, I think those people are monsters. Printing Peter’s statement and not a word of Tom’s report. They turned him into a villain before he even had a chance to speak.

…And now… the town looks at us like we’re strangers. I walk into the bakery and they lower their voices. They say we want to destroy everything. All we want is for our children not to drink poison. Is that really so radical?

If this town could be clean—truly clean—I’d love to stay. I’ve given it so many years, so many quiet sacrifices. I want to believe it still has a future worth fighting for.

But if they’re going to lie… if they’re going to cover it up, bury it beneath contracts and ribbon-cuttings…

I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to stay. I want Tom to fight, but I also want him to stop. To let it go. For our sake. For Eli’s sake.

Maybe you learn to live with a little injustice. Maybe you don’t. I just— I just wish I didn’t have to choose between the truth and keeping my family whole.”