Chapter 6: Accused, Hunted, Destroyed

An older deputy gestured for me to stop talking, then gently asked Savannah:

The deputy, a grizzled man with a kind voice, knelt beside her. "Savannah, sweetheart, just tell us what happened. We're here to help."

“Savannah, honey, tell me what happened. We’ll help you.”

He spoke softly, trying to coax the truth from her. The room held its breath.

Savannah hugged her knees, buried her head, and cried loudly.

She rocked back and forth, wailing. The sound was raw, animal. I felt a lump rise in my throat.

“I went up the mountain at night to gather the cattle, tripped over a rock, and came to him for bandaging.”

Her voice was muffled, barely audible. "I was just trying to bring the herd in, and I tripped. I came to Doc Reeves for help."

“I didn’t expect that while he was bandaging me, he suddenly hugged me and... wuwuwu!”

Her sobs drowned out the rest. The accusation hung in the air, poisonous and heavy. My stomach twisted. Helpless.

“How can you say such nonsense!”

My voice cracked. I felt like I was drowning. "That's a lie! I never—"

I was furious. I had never been so wronged in my life.

My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to scream, to shake her until she told the truth. But all I could do was stand there, helpless.

Her parents took the chance to attack me.

They lunged, fists flying, nails clawing at my skin. I tried to shield myself, but they were relentless.

The police couldn’t even stop them.

The deputies struggled to pull them off. I felt a sharp pain as someone scratched my cheek.

My face and arms were scratched with countless bloody marks.

Blood trickled down my face, stinging. I wiped it away, dazed.

After they were pulled away, a thought flashed through my mind and I immediately said:

I remembered the evidence. My heart leapt. "Officer, I preserved the evidence—it's right there!"

“Officer, I collected and preserved the evidence of her assault, it’s right...”

I turned to the treatment table, expecting to see the carefully bagged samples.

I looked at the treatment table and found it empty!

The evidence was gone. My stomach dropped. Panic clawed at my throat.

Turning to Savannah’s family, I saw the guilt in their eyes.

Her father's gaze flickered. Her mother looked away, biting her lip. Something ugly twisted in my gut.

A chill ran up my spine. I tasted bile.

I knew, in that moment, that I was being set up.

“You heartless people, why are you framing me!”

My voice shook with rage. "How could you do this? After everything I've done for you?"

I was temporarily detained, but because of the records and the scene, they couldn’t prove I was the criminal, so I was soon released.

They put me in cuffs, led me out into the night. The cell was cold, the air stale. But after hours of questioning, they had to let me go. There just wasn't enough to charge me.

But as soon as I got back, Savannah’s family came for me.

They were waiting outside the clinic, faces twisted with hate. Savannah's father spat at my feet. Her mother screamed curses.

They demanded three hundred thousand in compensation.

"You owe us, Doc!" they shouted. "Three hundred grand for what you did to our girl!"

I treated it as nonsense and tried to drive them away.

I slammed the door, locked it tight, tried to drown out their voices with the radio. But they wouldn't leave.

Savannah’s parents threatened me, saying if I didn’t pay, they’d kill me and leave me for the wolves.

The threats got uglier. "Pay up, or you'll end up in the woods, Doc. The wolves'll take care of you."

I wasn’t afraid of such threats. If I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it.

I told myself I was innocent. The truth would come out. I tried to hold onto that, even as the walls closed in.

Many patients who trusted me supported me. After a few failed attempts, her family stopped coming.

My regulars brought me pies, left kind notes. "We know you, Doc," they'd say. "Don't let those crazies get to you." For a while, I thought maybe things would blow over.

I thought they had given up, but I didn’t know they had gone crazy and started a Facebook Live with pots and pans.

One morning, I woke to the sound of banging. Outside, Savannah's family was livestreaming, clanging pots, shouting my name. Their accusations spread like wildfire.

They claimed I was a rapist, and because I knew medicine and the law, I destroyed the evidence and escaped punishment.

"He knows how to hide the truth!" Savannah's mother screamed into her phone. The comments rolled in—some sympathetic, most vicious.

They said I was still at large.

"Why hasn't he been arrested?" strangers demanded. "Why is he still walking free?" The pressure mounted, online and off.

They asked people online to seek justice for them and their daughter.

"Help us!" they pleaded. "Don't let this monster get away with it!" Hashtags trended, petitions circulated. My name became a curse.

The angry online mobs became frenzied, spreading rumors and forwarding the story over and over.

My face was plastered across social media. Strangers sent threats, called my clinic, left graffiti on my door. The rumor mill spun out of control.

Rumors gradually became the truth.

People stopped asking questions. They just believed what they read. My reputation was shredded. Even the postman wouldn't look me in the eye.

I called the police and sued them for harassment and defamation, but it had little effect.

The sheriff shrugged, said his hands were tied. "Freedom of speech," he muttered. Lawsuits dragged on, but nothing changed.