“My daddy worked the tannery, and so did I. Forty-three years. My hands still smell like the chemicals. We knew the job wasn’t good for us, but we didn’t have choices. This town used to hum—now it creaks. They say this resort will put us back on the map. But I seen what shortcuts look like. I watched whole blocks of Cancer Alley turn into ghost towns. Kids with tumors. Moms on dialysis before forty. So I ask myself: is money worth it? And I don’t always know. But I do know this—if we sell this lie, it’s not just our town that suffers. It’s anyone who drinks that water thinking we kept them safe.”