“And?” My throat tightens around the word.
“And at each institution, there were complaints. Formal ones. Filed and documented.”
The rain intensifies outside, a counterpoint to the sudden stillness of my body. A crack of thunder rolls in the distance.
“What kind of complaints?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
Martin exhales, papers rustling on his end. “Intimidation. Manipulation. Inappropriate professional conduct. Fostering hostile work environments for subordinates. Targeting specific faculty members for excessive scrutiny. And undermining colleagues through back channels.”
My fingers clench around the pen, and the plastic casing creaks under pressure.
“At Lakeview, two Omega teachers filed separate complaints about being singled out for what they termed ‘corrective mentoring’ that went well beyond normal professional development. Both left teaching altogether within six months.”
I jot down notes, abbreviating where I can to keep pace with the information. The page fills with damning evidence, a pattern taking shape in blue ink.
I shift in my chair, spine rigid with tension. “Did anyone investigate?”
“No formal investigations,” Martin says. “Instead, Carson received promotions or transfers to new institutions each time complaints accumulated beyond a certain threshold.”
The pen stills in my hand. “They moved the problem instead of solving it.”
“Looks that way. Each transfer was framed as a career advancement. His personnel file reads like a success story.”
Thunder cracks closer now, a flash of lightning illuminating my desk in stark white. I blink away the afterimage, focusing on the yellow pad before me.
“Here’s what happens,” Martin explains, the professional analyst in him taking over. “Carson identifies vulnerable faculty members. Most often Omegas, though Betas aren’t safe either. He showers them with encouragement, establishes himself as a mentor, fosters dependency through praise alternating with criticism, and then progressively increases his demands on them while steadily stripping away autonomy.”
My gut tightens. Carson would have seen Leif’s kind personality, size, and Omega status as an irresistible challenge to break him.
“The complaints show a pattern of isolating his targets from colleague support while increasing workload. When targets push back, he questions their commitment, professionalism, or stability.”
Acidic bile rises in my throat.
“At Highlands, an Omega teacher filed a complaint stating Carson implied student accommodations might be reconsidered if the teacher didn’t take on additional committee work.”
My breath catches at the familiar pattern. It sounds like what’s happening with Leif right now, with the endless committee meetings and presentations he keeps disappearing for. And with Quinn attending Pinecrest Academy with accommodations for Sprinkles, she would be the perfect leverage. Leif loves that kid.
“The teacher ended up resigning for health concerns,” Martin continues. “Carson received a promotion to curriculum director three months later.”
I flip to a fresh page, continuing to document the evidence of systematic protection. Not for victims, but for the perpetrator, Carson himself.
“Pinecrest Academy wasn’t a fresh start,” I realize. “It was Westbrook offloading their problem.”
“Exactly.” Keys click on Martin’s end. “Westbrook had three separate complaints within Carson’s final months. All filed by the same teacher.”
The pen slips from my fingers, rolling across the desktop. “Leif.”
Silence fills the line for two beats. “Yes. Leif Hollis.”
The temperature in the room drops.
“Carson followed him here,” I whisper, cold understanding taking root. “To Pinecrest.”
“The timing lines up,” Martin confirms. “Carson transferred to Pinecrest three months after Leif Hollis accepted his position there. His recommendation letters came from Westbrook board members who had received complaints about him.”
The framed photo on my desk catches my attention. It shows Emily, Jared, and me at the last Saturday Market day before they closed for the season. Leif should have been there, too, but he had stopped going by then.
“How did they justify ignoring the complaints?” I ask, picking up my pen again.