Sally Richards #3

Outrage and Concern

Representative Diane Hooper sat in her Washington, D.C. office, her hands gripping a printed copy of Dr. Sally Richards’s email. The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Diane’s chief of staff, Melissa Graves, stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her boss with quiet apprehension.

When Diane finally spoke, her voice was low but taut with controlled anger. “This is worse than I thought.” She held up the paper, shaking it slightly. “The Indoctrination Control Office. Probation without end. Monitoring her emails. Censoring what she can teach about George Washington? I mean… this is chilling.”

Melissa nodded. “It’s been making waves all day. Advocacy groups are calling it authoritarian, and educators across the country are terrified this will set a precedent.”

“It will,” Diane said flatly. “If we don’t act, it will. Do you know how many governors out there are watching this? They’ll take this as a green light to police education in their states, to rewrite history however they see fit. We can’t let that happen.”

Melissa tilted her head. “But how do we fight it? Education is a state issue, and you know how they’ll frame this—‘Democrats meddling in state affairs.’”

“They’re going to say that no matter what,” Diane replied. “But this isn’t about meddling. It’s about protecting academic freedom and standing up for the truth. What they’re doing in Arkansas isn’t just dangerous—it’s un-American.” She tapped a finger on her desk, frustration etched into her features. “This woman, Dr. Richards—she’s a dedicated teacher. A historian with a spotless record. And now she’s being vilified for teaching facts. Facts!”

Melissa shifted her weight. “Well, the Treaty of Tripoli is pretty clear. ‘The Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion.’ They can’t argue with that.”

“They’ll argue anyway,” Diane said, her tone bitter. “They’ll spin it, twist it, make it about culture wars instead of history. But we can’t let that stop us.”

Melissa straightened, sensing her boss’s determination. “So, what’s the plan?”

“First,” Diane said, leaning forward, “we need to amplify this story. I want it on every major news network—MSNBC, CNN, NPR. Anywhere that will listen. This isn’t just about Sally Richards. This is about every teacher in this country who’s afraid to tell the truth because of political interference.”

“Understood,” Melissa said, jotting notes in her tablet. “And the next step?”

“Pressure,” Diane replied. “Arkansas receives millions in federal education funding. If they want to turn their classrooms into political battlegrounds, they can do it without our money. We’ll call for an investigation into how they’re using federal funds, and we’ll make it clear that censorship and intimidation have no place in our education system.”

Melissa hesitated. “And what about the long term?”

Diane’s eyes sharpened. “Legislation. A federal Academic Freedom Act. It won’t pass in this Congress, but that doesn’t matter. The point is to draw a line in the sand. To show educators that we’re fighting for them. And to remind the American people that the truth is worth defending.”

Melissa nodded, her admiration for Diane evident. “I’ll get started on the talking points and reach out to the networks.”

As Melissa left the room, Diane picked up her phone and stared at the screen for a long moment. She thought of Sally Richards—a woman she didn’t know but whose struggle felt personal. Diane herself had been a professor once, before politics had claimed her. She knew what it meant to stand in front of a classroom and fight to make history come alive.

She dialed a number. The voice on the other end was warm and familiar.

“Professor Jacobs? It’s Diane Hooper. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in your constitutional law class at Harvard.”

“Of course I remember you, Diane,” Professor Jacobs replied, his tone tinged with pride. “What can I do for you?”

Diane took a deep breath. “I need your help. A professor in Arkansas is being targeted for teaching historical facts. I want to build a legal case to challenge the constitutionality of what’s happening there. Can you advise?”

“Send me the details,” Jacobs said without hesitation. “We’ll figure this out.”

As Diane hung up, a spark of hope ignited in her chest. The fight was just beginning.

Part 2: Calculated Strategy

Representative Greg Mathers swirled his bourbon in a crystal glass, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. The amber liquid caught the dim light of his private office, casting shadows across his desk. Across from him, Ryan Carter, his communications director, flipped through a stack of papers, his expression sharp and focused.

“So,” Mathers said, leaning back in his chair, “what’s the latest on this professor? The one from Arkansas?”

Ryan glanced up. “Dr. Sally Richards. History professor. The story’s gone viral—Democrats are already calling it an assault on academic freedom. Social media’s ablaze with comparisons to McCarthyism. Advocacy groups are getting involved. It’s turning into a real spectacle.”

Mathers’s smirk widened. “Good. Let them make noise. It only makes them look hysterical.”

Ryan nodded. “The base loves it. We’ve been getting calls from donors all day, asking if we’re going to support Governor Zander’s policy on a national level.”

“Of course we are,” Mathers said, swirling his glass again. “This is exactly the kind of thing that gets people fired up. Protecting our kids from woke indoctrination, defending traditional values—it’s a goldmine. We could ride this wave straight into the midterms.”

“There’s just one issue,” Ryan said carefully. “The history.”

Mathers raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Well, Dr. Richards isn’t wrong,” Ryan admitted. “Washington was a Deist. The Treaty of Tripoli explicitly states that America isn’t a Christian nation. And these are verifiable facts, so we can’t outright deny them without losing credibility.”

Mathers nodded slowly, taking a sip of his bourbon. “Fine. We don’t deny the facts. But we frame them differently. We don’t have to argue about whether Washington was a Deist or a Christian. We just focus on what this is really about: protecting students from being told that their beliefs are wrong. That’s where the real power lies.”

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “So, we make it about parental rights? Framing this as a defense of students’ ability to think critically and form their own opinions?”

“Exactly,” Mathers said, pointing his glass at Ryan. “We position ourselves as the champions of freedom and balance. Say we’re not against history—we’re against biased teaching. And we double down on the idea that these policies are about empowering parents to make sure their kids aren’t being fed a one-sided narrative.”

Ryan flipped to a blank page in his notebook, his pen flying. “We could push for national legislation. A ‘Student Protection Act.’ It would give parents more oversight in classrooms, require schools to provide transparency in lesson plans, and create a formal complaint process for ‘biased’ teaching.”

Mathers grinned. “Now you’re talking. Get a draft started. It doesn’t matter if it’s actually enforceable—what matters is the messaging. Parents will eat it up.”

Ryan scribbled furiously, then looked up. “What about Dr. Richards? Do we address her directly?”

“No,” Mathers said, shaking his head. “Going after her personally makes us look petty. We focus on the policy. But we use her as a symbol—a representation of the woke, out-of-touch elites who want to rewrite history and indoctrinate our kids.”

Ryan grinned. “Got it. I’ll have the messaging team start drafting talking points.”

Mathers raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to winning, Ryan. And to reminding everyone who’s really in charge.”

As the two men strategized late into the night, the pieces of their plan began to fall into place. For them, Sally Richards wasn’t a person. She was a tool, a means to an end. And they would wield her story like a weapon, all the while shaping the narrative to suit their needs.